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A Frank Conversation with the Father

 

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Why a glimpse behind the curtain to the deeply personal and hidden grief of a bereaved parent? Not to inspire your pity; of that I can assure you.  Instead to inspire others to look beyond the surface of a grieving friend or family member. To consider how families are affected by loss, emotionally, psychologically and spiritually, as well as the unique family dynamics that result; which might help you comfort, support and encourage them. The bereaved desperately want to be understood, to have their feelings validated, to break free of the isolation, to mourn unrushed, to have another share their sorrow (not attempt to fix it). This post was written months ago and is not reflective of my current state of mind.

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A Frank Conversation with the Father

Here’s the deal Lord, I have no idea how to navigate this existence I’ve been left with.  I don’t even want to navigate it — at all.  I know You are the answer and yet I’m terrified of You — of Your “good” plans for me (pardon the sarcasm).  I’m so broken and I wish more than anything that you had just let all of us die that terrible day.  I’m furious that you allowed that accident to happen, that every dream I’ve ever had has been either withheld from me or snatched from my feebly grasping hands.

nt-puzzle-perseverance-20091101-19-728I have no peace because my fear of You prevents me from drawing close. How can I trust You when You repeatedly allow me to be crushed?, and yet You sustain me.  I don’t get it.  I don’t know how to move forward, with or without You.  I need You but I’m afraid of You – afraid of how much what’s left of this life will hurt – afraid I can’t survive any more.  I’m teetering on the brink of insanity.  But for Gracen I’d just want to slip over the edge.

I desperately need Your help but am afraid to ask and so resistant to any future because I don’t want new dreams; I want my old dreams back.

I can’t let go of my fear and my resistance in my own power.  But I also can’t stomach any more of life as I currently know it.  This is the best I can offer in on my own.  Please do for me what I can’t do for myself.  Do what’s best for me because I’m just hurting myself.  Change me because I can’t change myself.  Help me to rest, or be still, or trust or whatever it is You want from me to move me past this purgatory in which I’m currently living.  I don’t think I can ask twice.

 



 

Helping the Bereaved Bear their Burdens

1.  Realize it is normal for those who mourn to question and struggle with scripture, long held beliefs, drawing close to, leaning on and trusting God.  Don’t get freaked out if you see this happening.

Genesis322.  Ask probing questions instead of correcting or rebuking especially with scripture.  The last thing the grieving need is to feel defensive or to carry the additional weight of fellow believer’s condemnation (which may translate in their minds to God’s condemnation). The believing bereaved need safe people who allow them the freedom to express fears, anger, and disillusionment with God and their faith — people who allow them to question and wrestle with scripture. Failing to provide that will lead them to withdraw or simply suppress their questions and fears.  The grief-stricken may completely turn their back on their faith (not lose their salvation, simply quit following Christ) or they might ignore their questions and carry on with their faith.  They may grow and mature in other areas but place a large “No Trespassing” sign on that area of the heart refusing to allow the Holy Spirit to heal those deep wounds. Unhealed wounds fester.  Allowing a believer to wrestle with their beliefs, to confront scripture, is not something to fear. It’s something to encourage.

3.  Ask God for wisdom and discernment for yourself and the bereaved.  Be cognizant of whether the grieving believer is asking you to help them understand or simply to hear them out.

131574.  If the grieving believer is struggling with a specific scripture and is seeking feedback, make sure they are viewing the passage in context. If you are concerned that they might be misinterpreting a scripture ask, “What else does the Bible say?”. Acknowledge when you yourself don’t understand.  If you aren’t fast on your feet, ask if you can think it over and get back to them — DO NOT fail to return a response! They need you to keep your word and are often desperate for an explanation. If it’s taking awhile to find an answer, email and let them know you are still mulling it over.  Always use the Bible, trusted commentaries, or trusted faith-based resources in a biblical discussion.  Don’t add to or take away from scripture.  For example, count it all joy doesn’t mean they should be happy their loved one died.  Christ wept with the bereaved, he didn’t tell them not to be sad or to find a new perspective, or to buck up and move forward.  Follow His example.

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Posted by on February 25, 2016 in Faith, Grief

 

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Uncovering Unknown Issues of the Heart

(Facebook Post 7/26/15)
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I made a personal discovery today, or maybe God revealed it to me. It has left me feeling even more emotionally fragile than I was before. I discovered that I know a lot about God from an intellectual standpoint. I discovered that I know a lot of scripture, even if I can’t associate the Bible reference with most of them. But I also discovered that I don’t “feel” the most basic of Biblical truths; at least in regards to myself. What is this truth that has left me reeling? This truth I know in my head but not in my heart? This truth that staggered me to the very core of my being when I finally became aware of it? This is the truth that knock my feet out from under me: God loves you, Janet.

Now, I can’t count the number of times I’ve sat in sanctuaries and auditoriums and heard how “it’s not about emotional responses.” That we can’t always trust our feelings – which is why we rely on scripture. I certainly understand that argument on an intellectual level. I do. I get it and I’ve practiced it. When my heart’s been decimated, I’ve clung to the truth that my circumstances are not a reflection of God’s feelings toward me. I’ve held fast to the teaching that God is sovereign but that man has free will. I’ve believed that God doesn’t cause bad things to happen but that He does allow them to happen. I’ve trusted that He never leaves me, that He walks through the bad stuff with me, that He uses the bad stuff to refine my faith and conform me into the imagine of Christ and to somehow use that testimony to bring the lost to salvation; that I’m a tool in the Master’s hand used to bring Him glory.

But somewhere along the way my understanding has become warped. All the losses and the role disease has played in our family is all intertwined with my faith. I’m messed up. If the sole purpose of my life is to bring glory to God and enjoy him forever and if God allows me to be hurt over and over for the purpose of conforming me into Christ’s image and to bring Him glory, then we aren’t describing a God of love, we are describing a self-serving or an ego-maniacal God and that, of course, is in complete opposition to scripture.

So, I know I’ve gotten it wrong somewhere along the way. Maybe I simply accepted the easiest answer to explain God’s sovereignty because I needed an explanation, a purpose, when no real answer could be found. God rarely answers the why question, so I found one I could attribute to an overall grand design. But I can no longer cling to this idea that all this pain is for my good or that it’s justified for another’s salvation. I need to “feel” God’s love for me, not just know He loves me in my head. Otherwise, I’m left feeling as if I’m expendable for the benefit of others. That God loves others more than He loves me. That I’m little more than a means to an end and that the pain it all causes me is not of concern to God. If His purpose is simply to conform me or lead the lost to Christ, then I don’t feel individually cherished or worthy, or precious in His sight. I feel used – that I’m being conformed into a Christian Stepford Wife. I think that is why the idea that some ministry might rise from the ashes of Bethany and Katie’s deaths, from Gracen’s injuries and progressive disease, has been so repulsive to me.

The logical part of my being recognizes that God loves me but I can’t reconcile my theology and my reality. I can’t feel it in my heart – I need to experience His love for myself instead of simply reading about it in the Bible. And I don’t know how to go about it – I’m not even sure there is anything I can do about it. I need God to do it – to change my heart so that I can experience the depth, width and height of His love.

I can’t even describe how broken I am, how tired I feel. I’ve got no words to enable another to understand the prison that my brain has become. The ache, the hollowness left in my heart – the utter and complete devastation not just for what has already happened but for what is yet to come. I don’t know how many more blows I can take, because I’m not fending them off, I’m taking them on the chin.

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I am worried about sending Gracen off to college but I’ve come to realize it is something we both need. She needs to experience it and I want her to as well. I feel so selfish saying this, but I need a break. Not from Gracen – I need a break from the constant reminders of the accident. From the visceral response I have to seeing or hearing that wheelchair coming down the hall. From the things I now do for Gracen that she used to do for herself. It’s about the tasks and lost health resulting from her disease and the accident – not Gracen, herself. It’s about all the unpleasant changes that have happened to the child I love more than life itself endlessly assaulting my heart and mind.

It’s relentless. I just can’t escape it so that I can somehow work it out and live with it. Not just living without bitterness but actually continue to survive the emotional, spiritual and physical destruction. Oh to be able to escape, to flee from it all if not permanently then temporarily so that I can catch my breath and get my feet back under me. So that I can quiet the constantly striving voices in my minds. So I can find some peace. I’m so desperate for a little bit of peace!

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Posted by on October 22, 2015 in Chronic Illness, Faith, Grief, Muscular Dystrophy

 

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