This Too Shall Pass... But What if it Doesn't?

“Keep going, mama. His strength never fails,” I texted. “This too shall pass.”

“What if it never passes?” she said back. “I just want Heaven.”

Her response made me pause. It had been a hard season. One of those seasons that seems to drag on, and when you think you’re moving forward and making progress - something happens to pull everyone back.

What if we never get out of this season?

What if it lasts for years, and then decades?

Truth is, it might.

More than likely, it will last longer than we want. Longer than we think we can handle it.

And let us not grow weary of doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up. -Galatians 6:9

I wonder.

When the season is hard, when words fail to describe the difficulty and the emotions and the desires for growth but pain from the burden - what if it doesn’t pass?

What if we are still in the same hardship 15 years from now? How do we not grow weary then?

Sometimes we forget that God can change many parts of a season, even if He doesn’t end or lessen the season itself.

What if He makes us more mature as the season goes on, that we can endure it longer? and better?

If we are continuously seeking Him, in His Word and in prayer, He is changing us. Making us more like Himself.

I know firsthand that in difficulties, God is present. In fact, many times it’s in the hard and painful that I most know His comfort and strength and peace. You may know this too. He is near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34:18) - trying times bring this truth to life.

God is not absent in our suffering and desperation. We may think He is detached, but may I remind us all? He humbled Himself and was born into this world full of sin and pain. He too grew up in it, lived in it, and was tempted by Satan. He labored for others, more than we ever will in a single life. He watched sin run its course and He had to endure it. Perfection, enduring utter imperfection.

When He was in the garden of Gethsemane, about to be crucified, what did He plead?

“Father, if it is Your will, take this cup away from Me; nevertheless not My will, but Yours, be done.” -Luke 22:42

That section of Scripture goes on to describe Him in such agony, praying ever more earnestly, pleading that His Father change His current situation - change what was about to happen.

Then He endured the hardest thing possible, something that you and I will never have to endure as believers. God put our punishment for sin on Him, gave Him what we deserve. What a dark, sobering day that was. Terrifying.

We know what happened next - Jesus conquered death. He endured the worst affliction and conquered it all, so that we can be saved from our sin by turning to Him.

This is the most hopeful truth! This Savior knows pain, He knows long, hard seasons. He also knows, in the grand scheme of things, that our lives are fleeting. Our years of challenge after challenge seem so long now, but they truly are temporary.

He has gone ahead and made a way for us; He knows what we need when we need it and He provides it. He has prepared Heaven for His saints, those of us who call Him Lord and believe on His Name.

Long for Heaven, dear Christian! Keep your eyes ahead, knowing that the things before you will someday be completed and you will experience perfection.

Long for your Savior, dear Christian - seek His strength! Study His Word to know His character, know who He is and what He provides. For every hardship, He has provision.

These afflictions and challenges before us are not in vain, if we endure them for His glory. Let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we will reap if we do not give up!

Merry Christmas - let us celebrate our wonderful Savior!

-Amy

Calming Fear With Faith

Both of our children have incredible imaginations. They dream up the most fascinating adventures. My daughter plays out her days with her own never-ending stories. However, when the night comes, her imagination can sometimes get the best of her. 

In the dark hours, I awake to her cries. Half asleep, I tumble into her room. 

I grumble “What’s wrong?”

“I’m scared.” 

I take a breath. Her fear lacks logic. The night light shines bright. The lullabies play softly. Her brother breathes heavily in the bed beside her. She’s safe. 

“There’s a lion in my room.” 

I soften my tone, reminding myself how real the lions feel to her. “You’re safe.”

I assure her the lions are far, far away. I remind her of the truth, that Jesus is with her. He keeps her safe and secure. Her little heart calms, slowly, and her mind allows her to fall into rest once again. 

Fear, at any age, can be a tricky thing. It causes us to not see clearly. Rather than seeing what’s right in front of us, anxiety plagues us about what could happen. Downtrodden in ‘what if,’ we find it impossible to find rest. Like my daughter, in the trenches of the night, we forget the simple comfort that Jesus is with us. 

We can take comfort in that Jesus’s own disciples struggled with this as well. In Matthew 8, we see the disciples spiral as they forget who lies beside them. As you may remember, the story begins with the disciples following Jesus into a boat. They go out to sea, Jesus falls asleep, a storm comes, the disciples give way to fear. In desperation, the disciples call out to Jesus in verse 25, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” They know, then, that Jesus can indeed save them from this trial. Jesus responds, seemingly like I do with my 3 year old in the night—tired, frustrated. “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” 

All of chapter eight up until this point is filled with miracles. Healing after healing, the disciples saw Jesus accomplish the impossible. They had followed Jesus at all cost up until this point, but they still do not know Jesus’ true identity. If they had faith in Jesus as their Savior, they wouldn’t have been overcome by the storm in front of them. They trusted what their eyes showed them—a storm growing so powerful that it could take their lives. And yet, Jesus was right there. The Son of Man was right there in that boat. They had nothing to fear. And that was what Jesus meant. Remember who I am. I’m the one who has come to save you. I’ve come to rescue you from sin and death. The storms and waves cannot take this away. You surely won’t perish. Have faith. 

My daughter won’t always fear the lion under the bed. Her fears, like mine, will change with the seasons. While anxiety might manifest differently as we age, its influence remains the same. Fear causes us to not see clearly. When we succumb to the storms we face, we put our trust in fear instead of the One who’s already rescued us from it all.

As His disciples continued to draw near to Him, Jesus patiently taught them what a life of truth faith looked like. As we draw near to Jesus by spending time in prayer and in His word, our earthly fears fade away. We fix our hearts on the Truth. This gentle, merciful Maker of the Universe, who simultaneously defeated death and made a way for us to call Him friend. 

There are many times I am tricked by my worries, just as my daughter was tricked in the night. I find myself weak in faith like the disciples. I fix my eyes on my worries, rather than fixing my eyes on the One who calms the waves and the wind with only a word. And yet, He answers us gently. He reminds us we are safe. There’s nothing to fear. He gives us the strength and grace we need to depend on Him as we walk through the storms that come our way. We can then breathe deep and rest easy in Christ. 

Written by Rachel Rowe. Rachel is a wife to Caleb and mama to Adalyn, Oliver, and Eliza. When she’s not at home, you might find her teaching Bible Study, gathering for Book Club, or sipping lattes at a local coffee shop. Through it all, she’s learning to let the Word of Christ dwell in her heart—and finding out what that looks like in the everyday moments. Follow along on Instagram @thedwellblog

Inadequacy & Sufficiency

I want to be all the things.

Please all the people.

Fear creeps right in as I settle down on the couch to look at the snow.

How can I possibly handle more if I can’t handle what I have?

What makes me think I could handle more kids, like we so desire?

What makes me think I can give more and serve more?

But when I think it all through, these questions and others, I see lies.

I think things aren’t being handled, yet they are. The kids are fine, everyone’s basic needs are met, we have a happy home, and we’re all learning more about Jesus.

Still all I see is my failures.

Failure over here, failure over there. Not enough of this, not enough of that.

There’s Godly wisdom in managing time well, in saying no to things, in prioritizing. Taking things off my plate when I know He wants me to - that yields blessings.

But there are situations that break me… because that’s what He wants. There are times it all simply is too much for me, and that’s a good thing. He uses these seasons to make me stronger - stronger because I know His strength better.

I know this truth, and I’ve known it all my life: I am not enough. He is.

Motherhood has shown me more depth to this truth; depths I haven’t experienced before. I can do a whole lot by myself. I can pick myself up by the bootstraps and keep going. And going, and going, and going. I can meet people’s physical needs and keep meeting them as they come in and out the door.

But there’s a whole lot of brokenness in this world, with each of us. There’s brokenness in me and there’s brokenness in everyone who comes through our doors. It’s messy. I’m inadequate. There are mental and emotional needs I’ll never be able to meet. And truthfully that’s the hardest part, seeing things and wishing I could fix them - knowing I can’t.

Yet He is sufficient.

The needs everyone else has? He can meet them. Let them see Him!

The needs I have? I mess up, and I wish my flaws could go unseen but often they don’t. So I apologize when necessary, and turn to Him. He can meet my needs too. May my children see!

There are questions I don’t have answers for. But I do know that the Lord has every answer we could ever need, whether it looks how we expect it to or not.

So rather than try to pretend I can do it all, or be it all - I’m learning to accept my limitations. It sounds silly, doesn’t it? Obviously we have limitations! Oh, but we act like we’re invincible.

My limitations show myself and others that He alone can satisfy. Using them to point to Him can be painful but it is truly a joy! And - He determines what’s ultimately necessary and what’s not. What a shift, to think of how His load is light (Matt. 11:30) while the loads we give ourselves are so heavy!

That fear that creeps in, as I sit and think of all the things to do and be… it isn’t necessary. As the Lord adds people and tasks to our lives, He gives all that’s needed. He also gives standards to measure by; I can look to others to gauge some things in life, but may I let Him be the end-all.

My encouragement to you, reader, is to rely on His strength and look to Him to judge how you’re doing. Be consistently - daily - in His Word and in prayer. Let Him guide you and your family.

Be faithful with what He puts in front of you, be content in it, and do all for His glory. Rest in His sufficiency. He truly, deeply, is enough!

-Amy

Taught in the Quiet

It’s been quiet around here the last month. :)

I’m amazed at how much the Lord has taught me in these last few weeks. Seems like many of the things I *knew* in my head have been fleshed out, brought to life before me.

It has been so full.

Scaling back (significantly) on work beyond the home has left me with so much more. More time and energy, yes, but also more awareness. More availability. More creativity for what’s in front of me.

I tend to view all things in life from a dichotomist’s perspective - either/or, this or that, black or white. All or nothing. I do things to extremes, and over the years the Lord has so graciously been helping me gain balance. Pausing the Strength & Song magazine and routine emails has been another means of Him teaching me this. In time, those things may come back to my plate - but they will be much better balanced and the season will be more suitable.

Instead of using every naptime and much of my free time for work, I am more available for my family and community. And I’ll share a humbling fact - I think I’ve done more ministry in the last four weeks than I did in two years working. (It is hard to determine this, of course, because I don’t see the fruit of my labor when I’m producing emails and magazines. But this month has been so rich; you’ll see why.)

We’ve welcomed people over for dinner. I’ve sat on my couch with ladies from church as we cried out to the Lord on behalf of a friend. The kids have helped me make dinner for a sick friend, and came with me to deliver it. We’ve sat around the fire past bedtime with family, watching stars and kids who’d had too much sugar. We’ve had new friends over to play, a family who just moved back home after 10 years away. The kids and I have been in a morning Bible study, and my husband and I have joined an evening Bible study. We welcomed a desperate mom and her baby for a night while she made some life choices. We’ve had impromptu playdates with neighbors whose yard isn’t so flat.

It’s been full.

These things haven’t all happened at once, and I don’t share them to boast. I don’t have all the things we think are necessary to be hospitable - in fact, the only bed I had to offer our guest was the couch. Yet God has convicted me of the importance of living out my faith in my community. He’s convicted me of the need to actually know my community.

I don’t need to have the answers for everyone. I used to be fearful of my neighbors, fearful that I would say something that didn’t represent Christ well and fearful that I wouldn’t remember the right Bible verse for the moment. Growing up in a Christian home and Christian school and going to church regularly (all good!), I wasn’t sure how to interact with nonbelievers. What do you even talk about, if there’s no similarity of faith? What happens when they ask a question or make a statement contrary to His Word and you don’t have an answer or response?

What a weight I haven’t needed to carry. I have learned better the meaning of Luke 12:12:

Now when they bring you to the synagogues and magistrates and authorities, do not worry about how or what you should answer, or what you should say. For the Holy Spirit will teach you in that very hour what you ought to say.

He knows what our neighbors need and when they need it. My job is to be obedient to Him. Of course, that can still spark some fear (standing for Truth with nonbelievers is still a challenge sometimes!). But being obedient to Him is to love them well.

Living alongside other humans is messy. (I know, DUH.) It means riding the rollercoasters of emotions with them. It means joy in the morning and weeping at lunch and desperation at snacktime and contentment at dinner. (And yes, it also means days are often measured in terms of meals. There’s lots of food.) I’ve been learning too that riding the rollercoasters means you need to get good at leaving things with the Lord. If you keep it all in your grip, you obsess over problems and how to fix them and make everyone happy and guess what? Only God can satisfy. We do have limits to how far we can extend. He doesn’t. Hallelujah!

I’ve been taught in the quiet. It has been hard, and it has been wonderful. We have a Savior who steps into our mess, who loves us so deeply, who knows the answers to all of our needs. He is the answer to our need. And He fills us with His joy everlasting, He is truly amazing!

I have missed the regular emails and putting together magazines, it is still bittersweet to think of the fact that I’m not doing them right now. Yet this season has been so good, and I know I’m where the Lord wants me to be. I am so looking forward to how He continues to teach me and work in our family. If you need a push to slow down, scale back, or get outside your comfort zone in community… here it is. *Nudge*

Still praying for you, friends. May the Lord lead you and fill you with His joy.

-Amy