KNOWN 2014: Finding My Brave

So part of my commitment to living KNOWN in 2014 was to admit not to hide behind the excuse, "People think I am brave (or whatever other complimentary word you might want to put there -- or derogatory one, for that matter), but that is because they do not really know me." And instead to be brave about letting myself be known.

I took a big step today in finding a bit of that brave. My beautiful friend Cristi, from my college days in New Orleans, has a stunning blog called Motherhood Unadorned where she gets real about motherhood, life and mental health.

I have commended her bravery. And I have proclaimed over and over again that mental health is something we have to get comfortable talking about. And today, I accepted the challenge myself.

So I'm over at her place today finding my brave and talking about mental health after infant loss and miscarriage. Would you pop and over and thank Cristi for taking on this aspect of blogging, for being so courageous, and for letting me do the same?

Thanks. You're the best.

Letter To Self: You Shall Not Perish

Dear You,

 Yeah, you. You with the brave word KNOWN tattooed on your heart for the year. You with the new commitment to sink deep into the Word and speak in tongues not your own. You who thought maybe John 3:16 might be an easy place to start.

I watched you this week. I know you found out it wasn't. You found out that familiar isn't the same thing as easy with the Word of God. I watched Love pierce deep in a dark place. Say a hard thing to you.

Because you, daughter of the King, child of Light, lover of Love, you've had a pretty messy year. A good one in so many ways. You counted more than 1000 gifts. Marked them out in pen. But even still, you were dogged by the darkness of anxiety more than ever before, felt the pain of loss open fresh old wounds, trusted and mistrusted yourself for the trusting then felt the guilt of unfounded mistrust. In the Word this week, you heard it. The hard word from Love itself. You have been living like you are perishing. Instead of living this:

You who lay down your life to help others believe, you have forgotten to believe yourself. Forgotten to live knowing no one is relying on your heroics to save the day, and that the dark villain chasing you has already been defeated by the only Superpower. You forgot that at the beginning of it all He WAS. And at the end, He will be. And right now, He is.

You have spent your days swirled in the dark mist of discontent, the bitter sting of hope dashed. And you have refused to believe in eternal life. Day after day, you lived like you were perishing, like any minute now, it was all going to fall apart.

You lived, dear one, in fear. In that unspoken and lonely fear of failure who is your worst enemy yet long-time companion. You courted her a bit this year, invited her in for coffee one too many times. And she wooed with quiet accusation. Made you believe you not only needed to fear the possibility of failing but that you had already failed, that you were a failure.

That the dishes left in the sink overnight said more about you that a God who put on skin to save you. That lack of routine and continuity and kids who went to bed too late and didn't do as much school as they should have said more about you than the miraculous fact that the God of the Universe trusted you enough to put eternity in your hands in the form of people who are His. That your body's betrayal, its inability to cup life safely in its womb, its bleeding out of hope said more about you than the Blood He shed so that your pain matters for something.

That the to-do list without the check marks and the so many days you made no lists whatsoever because you didn't care any more mattered more than the fact that it is done in eternity. That what people thought about you and their approval of your work made you who you were more than the knitting He did in your mother's womb.

You ran and raced within from the menacing threats, from mortal peril, from perishing, so many days. And more often than not, you still felt you had not run fast enough, that the darkness had caught you. But:

And as you have dug back in over the last month, heard Him say, "I know. Come out of hiding, sweet one. You are known. You are loved. Even with, even if, and even when. You are loved. And there is mercy and there is grace and there is light enough for all your dark battles. I put on skin for just this reason. So you would know. I laid my head in the meanness and cold of your cruel world so you would know. I held out my hands and embraced the tears of the woman who wept at my feet and the one who his at the well and the one who banged pots and pans in the kitchen in frustration so that you would know. I became incarnate in the womb of a woman that you would know. From the inside from forever until never-ending glory shines, I have known you. In the beginning, I WAS. And because I lived, I live in you. And you do not have to perish, only believe."

I hear the question forming before you ask. And I know that you know that you already know. All you have to believe is this one little thing: it doesn't matter if you are enough because He is. It doesn't matter what you know because you are known. It does't matter what you do, because it has already been done. So just live and breathe grateful. Keep counting. Live in the embrace of His Word.

You have chosen well, sweet soul sister. This is your year to remember that you are known. And to believe. And to live like you have eternal life in you. Because you are not in peril. You shall not perish, dear. So live in the light. Let it shine on your darkest places and let them be known. Because you cannot fail at what has already been won. And you cannot perish when you know you will live forever. So live lavishly and love long and let it go. He's got you. 

Come link up with us at the Grove at Velvet Ashes  this week.
You don't want to miss the opportunity to be part of this space.

Posted: Most Clicks of All Time

When I decided to link up with the lovely Sarah's new Posted. series, I wasn't realizing how much I would need to re-read the post she would choose. Sarah asked us to link to our post with the most clicks ever.

I had an inkling and I was right. It was this post about saying goodbye to the little one we lost to miscarriage just before we headed to the mission field. Clearly, the sadness and the hop in that post resonated with people. And today, after experiencing two more miscarriages in the last six months, I needed to hear that voice of hope, surrender, and resignation. 

As I seek to spend the year letting myself be KNOWN by God, these last few days I have realized how I have hidden the deep sadness and pain of those losses from Him. Of course He sees and knows all, but in my time with Him, I have not let myself go there, feel the hard feelings, say the sad things, wonder about His will. And I need to. Because on the other side of that lies reconnecting in intimacy with my Father, and that is the road to hope, the road to heaven.

The hope that will let me repeat these words again today:

For I realize, that even when my body is well past the age of bearing babies, even if I should live until I am 100, always, I will be an expectant mother, until the day I hold my babies for eternity. And the hope of that day makes the suffering and struggle and strength to do His will in the hard times all worth it.  For with every drawing near to His cross, we draw near to the glory of the Resurrection as well, and with every bowing low to His sovereignty, we come closer to bowing before His Holy Throne.

So I am thankful this little link-up let me re-visit a part of me I needed to be blessed by today. I hope it blesses you as well.