The Crucible

Blaise signing in...

And, so we leave again.  No fanfare this time.  No one waving good-bye.  What was this time all about?  This month and a half, filled with fear and worry and waiting?  This crucible, if you will? It’s usually in retrospect that we are able to assign meaning.  But I do have my suspicions...

We’re leaving as different people.  Two people (with two kids in tow) that know God’s nearer than before.  Two people reminded that they need God more than ever.  Reminded: He is one to be pressed into, sought after, run to – desperately. Our default button is often set to ‘convenient’, not ‘desperate’, much less ‘passionate.’ During this last month we were forced to desperately cry out to Him, like no other time in our lives, and He was so faithful.  He drew near, through people and prayers, through doctors, friends and family; He drew near.  What a privilege... so much to be thankful for.

It would be wonderful if that was that, neat and tidy, lesson learned.  But to be honest, I think more and more that the next few months are going to continue to be a crucible of sorts... My sense is that a critical part of this Blank Page is about what God wants to do with our character. Not such a sexy thing, really.  Much less-cool than God giving us the next great thing to do for Him!  It says in the Bible that He’s faithful to complete the work He began in us... (Phil 1:6)  Let’s be real - there’s more than plenty for Him to chip away at and mold, much less finish in these two people (with two kids in tow). 

A scary prayer for any of us to pray if we mean it:  Continue to transform us into the likeness of You so that we may reflect Your glory...

Psalm 121

Blaise again...

I lift my eyes up; where does my help come from…?(Psalm 121)  A friend just sent this song to me; a reminder of the One who holds us in His hand during this strange and unfamiliar time.  As I listen to it, there is a deep ache that washes over me.  The only words that seem to make their way to my lips are - help my unbelief. 

I was finishing up the book ‘Becoming the Answer to Our Prayers’ (by Shane Claiborne and Jonathan Wilson Hartgrove) the other day, and this short quote from Mark 9 jumped out at me - ‘I believe; help my unbelief’.  I can’t seem to get past this line.   It feels so very honest at this moment in our lives.  When it comes to healing and prayer and our circumstances and questions, like where is God… help my unbelief feels like the only prayer I can muster up.

I do believe, but I am made aware of the enormity of uncertainty; the un-knowable.  Following Christ, taking up our cross, counting the cost…these are questions that will never have neat, pretty answers… And somehow we have to be okay with that.  The great I AM is not to be comprehended.  Period.

Lord, help my unbelief…

The Other Side

Hey, Blaise here...  

On the other side is where we are.  The other side of Indiana’s biopsy at Sick Kids. The other side of leaving and coming home.  We are home.  Waiting for results.  Waiting and wondering what’s next...? 

A funny thing, being back where we started; we’re made aware of just how blank the page is.  Far more so than being on the road.  At least on the road, we’ve got our trusted GPS!

It was almost 10 months ago when I sat up in bed and spoke the words “it’s a blank page” to Matt lying next to me.  That moment came after months of restless conversation, one after another.  Finally -- an image, an idea; a vision for something to come.  So we prayed and planned and thought and sought to offer God -- us.  As completely as possible, and without the stuff and the to do’s, that we assumed were ours to have and to do. 

Simple enough idea: a page on which He could write His will for our lives.  Blank, clean…and without. 

And now here we are on the other side, somewhat shell-shocked.

It would be a lie to say we haven’t looked at each other more than once and said, “What were we thinking?” Was this blank page thing some over-romantic idealism?  Was that image even from God, or something from my own zealous imagination? 

The glare from our page is just about blinding at the moment.  Truth be told, the only thing I can see poking through are the faces of our beautiful girls. All of us waiting; with no house, no jobs, no agenda, no place to be.  Feels like we’re in-between something… waiting for something to be delivered… nowhere.  A pregnant pause. 

It’s a time to be still, for Indi’s healing.  It’s a time to be still for each other. 

And I am amazed at how in the moment we really are.  I wonder if God’s smiling at the blankness.   I do know He’s waiting with us.  I know because we’re surrounded by love, from family and friends.  And they are His presence with us.