Josh took the boys to his shop with him so I could go to Roo's appointment just-me-and-her. I'm so grateful that he did, because waves of familiar fears came washing over my heart the whole way there, requiring my whole being to battle for the surrender to allow Christ to reign.
A week or so ago Roo was diagnosed with a hernia, and I felt a tiny pang of fear. I had noticed it during a diaper change, and called out to our Creator. At her one-year appointment we showed it to her doctor, and he referred us to a Urologist. With each diaper change I felt fear rising, squeezing my lungs and throat a little more each time.
I've tasted the bitter anguish of letting go of the child I held in my arms. I've prayed for healing, laying hands and begging from my knees for mercy. I've invested my whole heart in faith that the Healer could re-arrange genetics, undo a diagnosis, and breathe life where there isn't any.
I've tasted the unexplainable peace and strength that the Creator gives when He walks closely, through the valley of the shadow of death. I've watched Him unexplainably sustain life, for His own purposes and glory.
As I drove the familiar streets and intersections toward a familiar, sterile building, bringing another daughter along to receive diagnosis about her health, that familiar fear began to squeeze it's choke-hold.
God, last time You asked me to trust You, it meant the most anguish my heart has ever felt... it's just a hernia, don't freak out... but she'll need anesthesia, and that's scary... but God's in control... but last time He let me hurt- so. bad.
I began to notice mistrust in my heart, where I hadn't seen it before.
He reminded me, "I didn't promise to keep you from pain, I promised to never leave you or forsake you."
But God why would you stay with me and let me hurt??
"I want your trust in Me to be greater than your fear of pain."
That doesn't make me feel any better. That reveals more fear in my heart. I'm afraid that you will let me hurt like that again. I'm afraid.
"Give me your fear. Give me your fear of pain, and I'll replace it with the peace that comes when you trust me wholeheartedly."
I know that peace... it's a really strange, incredible thing. With God, it's possible to be in pain and at peace at the same time. It's possible to be surrounded by your worst fear, but so wrapped in the Healer's arms that you aren't afraid. The world looks at you like you're nuts, and you have that chance to point to our Creator, to His glory.
After the appointment had passed and life began to charge forward full-swing, I found myself running to my husband's arms looking for comfort. I was still wheezing with fear, and he sensed it. He held me at arm's length and reminded me of the choice I had in front of me: succumb to drowning in fear of pain and heartache, or go back to that safe place where the Healer's love drives out all fear.
He had made his choice, and he invited me to join him.
You can have my fear, O God... where else would I go?
I reject fear and choose You.
2 Timothy 1:7
For God did not give us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.
A week or so ago Roo was diagnosed with a hernia, and I felt a tiny pang of fear. I had noticed it during a diaper change, and called out to our Creator. At her one-year appointment we showed it to her doctor, and he referred us to a Urologist. With each diaper change I felt fear rising, squeezing my lungs and throat a little more each time.
I've tasted the bitter anguish of letting go of the child I held in my arms. I've prayed for healing, laying hands and begging from my knees for mercy. I've invested my whole heart in faith that the Healer could re-arrange genetics, undo a diagnosis, and breathe life where there isn't any.
I've tasted the unexplainable peace and strength that the Creator gives when He walks closely, through the valley of the shadow of death. I've watched Him unexplainably sustain life, for His own purposes and glory.
As I drove the familiar streets and intersections toward a familiar, sterile building, bringing another daughter along to receive diagnosis about her health, that familiar fear began to squeeze it's choke-hold.
God, last time You asked me to trust You, it meant the most anguish my heart has ever felt... it's just a hernia, don't freak out... but she'll need anesthesia, and that's scary... but God's in control... but last time He let me hurt- so. bad.
I began to notice mistrust in my heart, where I hadn't seen it before.
He reminded me, "I didn't promise to keep you from pain, I promised to never leave you or forsake you."
But God why would you stay with me and let me hurt??
"I want your trust in Me to be greater than your fear of pain."
That doesn't make me feel any better. That reveals more fear in my heart. I'm afraid that you will let me hurt like that again. I'm afraid.
"Give me your fear. Give me your fear of pain, and I'll replace it with the peace that comes when you trust me wholeheartedly."
I know that peace... it's a really strange, incredible thing. With God, it's possible to be in pain and at peace at the same time. It's possible to be surrounded by your worst fear, but so wrapped in the Healer's arms that you aren't afraid. The world looks at you like you're nuts, and you have that chance to point to our Creator, to His glory.
After the appointment had passed and life began to charge forward full-swing, I found myself running to my husband's arms looking for comfort. I was still wheezing with fear, and he sensed it. He held me at arm's length and reminded me of the choice I had in front of me: succumb to drowning in fear of pain and heartache, or go back to that safe place where the Healer's love drives out all fear.
He had made his choice, and he invited me to join him.
You can have my fear, O God... where else would I go?
I reject fear and choose You.
2 Timothy 1:7
For God did not give us a spirit not of fear but of power and love and self-control.
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