Jehovah-rapha

Wounded.  Healing.
This week in my small group we studied the name Jehovah-rapha, The Lord Who Heals.  This has not been an in-depth study of just this name, but all the names of Jesus (Lord, I Want to Know You by Kay Arthur).  This week just happened to be Jehovah-rapha.  Except nothing just happens to be.  I am loosing my presupposition that there are things that just happen to be with God's children.  I have been in need of some serious healing for some time now.  He knew this.  He came to me this week, the Great Physician.
As is likely common in everyone's life, a time of hurt seems to have arrived for me, in various forms.  Not one thing is happening to cause this, but what seems an overwhelming avalanche of pain is seeming to surround me and pin me down.  I've had an attitude of "suck it up" and tried to deal with it on my own.  After all, I figure, it could be worse.  And it could be worse.  A whole lot worse.  So many of these painful issues are not happening directly to me, but I am in the ripples.  I could be in the bullseye.  So I put my bandaid on and my strong facade.

I hate pulling bandages off.  It hurts.  I am a wimp, and I still have to ask my husband to do it for me, usually.  If he is not available, I take a hot shower to help steam it off!  Or I just leave it on an unnaturally long time.  This is not a good thing for the actual injury.
I have done this with my heart.  I have not brought my hurt to the One who Heals, but thought I wouldn't bother Him with my petty hurts.  I covered it up.  It began to need to be addressed.  It was beginning to fester.  It needed air.
I read a blog post by Beth Moore from August 10 and I realized that I hadn't been real with God about what I was doing with my heart.  In my quest to keep the God of the Universe from being too busy with trivial things of mine (sarcasm), I had begun to push my pain under the carpet so it wouldn't be seen or dealt with.  God already knows what's under there, but I needed to confess it and bring it out into the light.  I needed this reminder from Beth that I can be completely raw before my Lord.  Even if it is the most unGodly sounding rawness, it needs to come out.  My wounds needed to be exposed and washed out before a real infection set in.
I set before the Lord this week, and in tears, I told Him what I thought about how He was letting things go around here.  I told Him how much I hated it.  I told Him how much I hurt from others' actions and they didn't even get it.  I told Him how unfair it was.  I told Him lots of things.  Then my husband walked in, bless his heart!
In His infinite mercy and compassion, God did not send a bolt of lightning or leprosy or snakes or any other thing to tell me He is God and who am I?!  Instead He listened to me.  He empathized with me.  He reminded me that He felt these very things, (well, maybe not exactly) but He knew how it felt to be unjustly hurt and watch others hurt unjustly.  He knew the difficulty of taking the high road (the highest, in fact) when manipulated.  He knows it all.
 He has also heard it all.  I felt like the Israelites in the desert complaining of yet another perceived lack, when they had the visible presence of God traveling before them in the cloud, with manna from heaven on a daily basis.  I have the presence of God living inside me with the Gospel at my fingertips at any given moment and direct access to speak to Him.  And yet my first instinct is to try and heal myself.  I have reached the bitter waters at Marah, and yet God has given the tree to make it sweet.  He hung on it Himself.  All I have to do now is let His healing waters cleanse my wounds and keep it open to Him to heal.

Malachi 4:2a But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings.

Jeremiah 17:14  Heal me, O LORD, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for Thou art my praise.

Yes, Jesus, I will keep my heart open to you, all of it, so You can keep it clean and heal me by the blood of Your wounds.

Z

Today he would be 18 days old.  His birthday was the 9th, you see.

I had the most amazing opportunity to meet him; to hold his perfect hands that look like his mommy's, to touch his perfect feet, to see how much his tiny mouth looks like his daddy's.

To say hello and goodbye.

I miss him.  I miss my nephew, Z.  He's my 14th N&N!  I love him so much.

This has by far been the most difficult month of my life, and I'm the Aunt.  I can't fathom walking this path in my brother and sister-in-law's shoes.  I would do it in their place in a heartbeat though. If I could.  That seems to be my constant wish; If I could.  But I can't.   Instead, I pray and cry and hope.  It's strange to be an aunt.  I wonder if all aunts feel as close to their nieces and nephews.  I wonder if I feel closer to them because I don't have children.  I wouldn't give up that closeness for anything.  Even when it hurts.

It has been a couple of weeks since we said our goodbyes to Z, but life is not the same.  You don't just move on.  I actually hate that phrase.  You can change it to "moving forward" and it makes it a little better, but it still just stinks.  I'm not one to use or feel comfort from platitudes, even if they are true.  I see the happiness of a new birth with other parents all over the place now, when I don't think I noticed it as much before.  I struggle with wanting to be happy for them, but feeling instead like I want to cry.  I want them to fully realize how fortunate they are.  Hearing about so many others (too many) who have walked this path and come through gives me hope, but still reminds me how much I had taken for granted, and how awful living in a fallen world can be.  Singing beautiful praise songs in church is almost impossible.  Not because I don't believe it, but it's just so emotional.  I was supposed to be making multiple trips to see the little guy, playing with him and babysitting while mommy went to the store or the spa or wherever else she wanted to go!  He was supposed to be here.  It's not the same.  It won't ever be the same.  I don't want it to be the same.

I want to remember those perfect little fingers that looked like his mom's and the lips that formed points just like his dad's.  I want to remember how sweet his tiny perfect feet looked as they peeked out from his blanket.  I want to remember how much his mom and dad looked forward to his entry into the world and how much they love him.

Z has made an impact on my life, and so have his parents.  I have seen how they have loved him, grieved for him, rejoiced for him, and continue to support not only each other, but so many of us around them.  God is using Z.  As we discover all the ways, I will continue to believe that God is grieving with us and comforting us.

Moved

On Friday, a family from church lost one of their young sons in a horrific accident. He was 9. I don't believe the age really matters when you lose a child. I have another friend from church who unexpectedly lost a son just recently, who was married with kids of his own. It has been a rough summer for our church family.
I read in other blogs how God sustains those who go through such tragedy, and I have seen firsthand how He has sustained these close to home. I have been very, well, impressed, I suppose to witness the responses of the family left here on earth to grieve and yet celebrate their loved ones' true homecoming. I was truly struck by the mother of the young son. She sent an email to some of the church family explaining what happened and how they are doing. In it she said, "Yet, we know that when ***** was formed in His Mother’s womb, that August 21, 2009 was already established as his homegoing day. " (name removed for their privacy)
I was moved beyond words. The family is not just saying they trust Christ, but they are showing it in the deepest sense. In fact, both families are showing Christ's strength in their lives.
I was also reminded of how Scripture tells us to remember our mortality. We all have a specific time on this planet. We are given works to do in His name and we have a charge to fulfill. We, as believers, do not wonder what our purpose is in life, who we are or what life is about. Don't get me wrong, we wonder about how that all fleshes out, but the big picture is; it's all about glorifying God in our lives. Most often that path is one of the hardest to follow.
Our culture is all about making sure the "self" is protected and nourished. The "self-help" sections of bookstores are filled with numerous step programs to try and give the individual self-esteem, self-awareness, self-whoknowswhatelse. Interestingly, God's word says to put others in front of yourself. Self focus becomes selfishness and that rarely leads to happiness. We don't deserve to be happy. Certainly not if we are focused on that as an end goal. If we focus on the real goal of glorifying God in our lives, that will likely be the hardest road we travel at times, but if we take that road, we won't be alone. There won't always be the happy feelings, but there will be joy. Allowing God to lead and trusting Him for the strength to go that road is the best possible option for living life to the fullest.
I wish I saw more Christians taking that road, instead of the worldly comfortable one. I am encouraged deeply to bear witness to the families who are living and breathing God's strength moment to moment. We all get to decide which camp we will belong to, despite what some may feel. Sometimes we try both, but I see much more peace in one. I continue to lift both families in prayer, but to be honest, they are teaching and helping me much more.