Tears burned my eyes. I was angry and desperately sad. How does a father abandon his family? It feels like the very worst of crimes. My mind raced as jumbled prayers spilled from my mouth. “Lord, will my daughters survive this breaking of our home? How will they come to understand that you are so very different? Can they separate in their hearts a father who leaves and a Father who stays?”  ** READ THE FULL ARTICLE ON RISEN MOTHERHOOD…

There is something sacred about Saturday’s stillness in the passion account.

The disciples didn’t have eyes to see that hope was brimming under the surface. They were full of grief and despair, longing and fear.

But we are of those who see the dawn of Sunday. And yet, here we sit: BETWEEN.

As I worked through the paperwork, tears streaming down my face, I wrote the date and all of a sudden realised that it was Good Friday. The darkest day in the history of the world—the Son of Man, slain for the sins of the world. His body broken and bruised, poured out as an offering. I lifted my heart up to Jesus in that waiting room and felt His presence so strongly in that room.

He had died for this very moment.

I beg You to look down at me- at the losses and broken places, the grief and the ache and say enough.

ENOUGH.

I beg You to say it.

Blow the whistle.

Call for a Season of Rest.

God, do you want to walk away too?

Am I easy to leave? Easy to replace?

Will you always be here, or does our relationship have an expiration date?

Where are you when the chair beside me is empty?

When we are not heard, we begin to believe that there is no reason to speak. We retreat further and further inward and in time, lose ourselves completely. I know this shame far too well. It’s my marriage story and it’s a painful one.

When "love" breaks your heart and walks away it's hard to trust that God's love is any different. When love feels only broken and shaky, look to the cross of Jesus and see, remember and meditate on a Love that has not, will not, could not end. Take note of the differences and remember, real Love NEVER fails.

David cries out in Psalm 13, “How long Lord?”

Four times we hear this same plea. Do you think his cries got louder and angrier with each “how long”?

Maybe I’m just projecting my own angst onto his words…

"Lament is prayer in pain that leads to trust…”

Mark Vroegop in Dark Clouds, Deep Mercy

Lent just seems like the right time to admit that everything feels a bit broken. It seems like the perfect time to remind ourselves that while, yes, everything is dark and shattered, IT WILL NOT ALWAYS BE SO.

Join us as we learn to welcome biblical lament into our lives. We pray it stirs up fresh, raw hope within you in the days to come.

6 years after Mom died, my world completely shattered again as my husband’s unfaithfulness came to light. I walked through horrific betrayal, abandonment and unwanted divorce. My life, my home, and my heart were impossibly broken.

There have been many days over the last 6 years where I have questioned God’s goodness in my Mom’s homegoing. My pain has been so immense as I’ve walked through the darkest days of my own life.

Jesus loves me this I know (but do I believe it?)

Does His love reach even to me? The UNLOVED one? If one man has chosen to stop loving, could it mean God has chosen the same? Do you see the darkness creeping at the edges? 

Dating can be hard. No doubt about it.

Dating as a single parent? Possibly the hardest…

The abandoned wives in your community have experienced the trust-destroying damage of unkept promises. The ground beneath her feet feels shaky as she questions who to trust. The most life-giving gift to give her is the full counsel of Scripture.

I have trust issues. I loved a man who lied & changed his mind and It made me question everyone in my life. Are they being honest? Will they leave too?

And when I look to God, it’s nearly impossible to not sling the same questions at him.

Sometimes the ground beneath my feet feels impossibly fragile–like a sheet of glass. One misstep & the whole thing might crack. And life feels all the more vulnerable when the calendar flips to a new year. Can I actually go another round?

I was desperate.

And life was dark. So very, very dark. I looked up from the pit and wondered where God was in this grief, this impossible season, this shattering. Those dark December days stretched on–creeping towards the darkest days of the year. And it just felt so symbolic. It’s like the cosmic candle of my life had been snuffed and the last sparks were beginning to fade and smoke. All was lost.

Dear Church, we are called to step in towards people. To live incarnationally--the hands and feet of Jesus reaching out to the broken in our midst. We are not to exalt ourselves but rather, humble ourselves before others.

We can approach the throne of mercy and grace with confidence. On days of doubt. Days of loneliness. Days when our lives feel impossibly broken.

On our best days and our very worst days, we have access to mercy and grace.

The juxtaposition of a season full of cheer and twinkling lights and my own utter darkness and despair was almost palpable.