It's been a while since I've posted anything...the past week and a half has been pretty rough--filled with stubborn migraines, fatigue, and an array of emotions which makes it a little difficult to write. I feel like I've finally gotten a break though, and I haven't even had to take any pain medicine the past two days! So I'm thankful for that.
There are sooo many things on my heart and mind right now as I reflect upon the painful days. It's hard not to get discouraged in the midst of the bad times, but knowing that the good days are on their way helps me to be patient. I want to share with you this psalm that pretty much describes what I couldn't put into words on my own this week. It's 20 verses which may look like a lot, but please just read it to the end. That's where I'm at right now.
Psalm 77
(For the director of music. For Jeduthun. Of Asaph. A psalm.)
1 I cried out to God for help;
I cried out to God to hear me.
2 When I was in distress, I sought the Lord;
at night I stretched out untiring hands,
and I would not be comforted.
3 I remembered you, God, and I groaned;
I meditated, and my spirit grew faint.
4 You kept my eyes from closing;
I was too troubled to speak.
5 I thought about the former days,
the years of long ago;
6 I remembered my songs in the night.
My heart meditated and my spirit asked:
7 “Will the Lord reject forever?
Will he never show his favor again?
8 Has his unfailing love vanished forever?
Has his promise failed for all time?
9 Has God forgotten to be merciful?
Has he in anger withheld his compassion?”
10 Then I thought, “To this I will appeal:
the years when the Most High stretched out his right hand.
11 I will remember the deeds of the LORD;
yes, I will remember your miracles of long ago.
12 I will consider all your works
and meditate on all your mighty deeds.”
13 Your ways, God, are holy.
What god is as great as our God?
14 You are the God who performs miracles;
you display your power among the peoples.
15 With your mighty arm you redeemed your people,
the descendants of Jacob and Joseph.
16 The waters saw you, God,
the waters saw you and writhed;
the very depths were convulsed.
17 The clouds poured down water,
the heavens resounded with thunder;
your arrows flashed back and forth.
18 Your thunder was heard in the whirlwind,
your lightning lit up the world;
the earth trembled and quaked.
19 Your path led through the sea,
your way through the mighty waters,
though your footprints were not seen.
20 You led your people like a flock
by the hand of Moses and Aaron.
Sometimes I don't necessarily "feel" God's presence, comfort, and peace. Sometimes it seems like He's unresponsive. Silent. My first response to Him in those times is frustration which often comes out as arrogance, thinking that I deserve or am entitled to an encounter with the Almighty God. I remember his faithfulness and the precious times we shared together. I treasure those moments; yet, here I am now wondering where He is. Though I know that He promises never to leave me nor forsake me, I long to hear his voice, to feel his touch, to see his face. The longing, while not satisfied, continues to grow, deepening my desire for Him even more. As I focus on Him and meditate upon his character, I still struggle to make sense of the silence. I feel like I'm totally aware of my desire for Him, yet I'm still waiting in my painful, desperate state, to truly discover Him.
I know that I'm not alone in feeling this way. In Larry Crabb's book Shattered Dreams, he writes about others who have experienced deep pain and loss. A man who lost his wife reported this: "At his worst moments of pain, he never hears a happy song coming out of his heart. When he hears a song, it's the music of desire, of longing for what is not now and will never be till heaven. 'Tears have become my deepest form of worship.' He spoke with passion.
Though I haven't lost my spouse (since I've never had one), I can identify with him in that I do believe that tears have also become my deepest form of worship. I hate crying because it makes my head hurt worse, "but it's in the pain that we discover our desire for God, and it's in the frustration of that desire that we come to realize how sturdy it is. We face the truth that there is no other answer. To whom else shall we go? Moving toward anything else we might desire is idolatry and foolishness. Only God has the life our souls desperately need. We come to really believe that. So we abandon ourselves to Him. And we wait. Any experience of His presence is given as a sovereign mercy. There is no formula for making it happen.--No longer do we live for blessings; no longer do we pray, 'God, here is what I need. Give it to me!' Now we rest, an agitated rest that includes the agony of frustration, but stil we rest. And we learn to say, 'God, whoever You are, whatever You do, that is all I want. I demand nothing. I will wait for You.'"
I don't think I have to write a book anymore because Larry Crabb has already said everything that I would want to say, and he has done so with perfect words which I could not express.
My sister Lauren gave me his book Shattered Dreams for Christmas and it has been such a blessing to me ever since.
So that's where I'm at right now. Waiting on the Lord. It's not easy, but they say that good things come to those who wait. So that's exactly what I plan on doing. I'm trusting my faith, not my feelings.
Thank you for all of you who are praying for me! You are such a blessing. Prayer is powerful. So please, don't give up!
---
"Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." ~ 2 Cor. 12:8-10 <3
Wednesday, February 16, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Where I was about a year ago: The Awakening
I wanted to share with you an essay that I wrote over a year ago for my 12th grade AP English class, so you can get an idea of where I'm coming from. It is dated November 23, 2009.
A lot has changed since then. Now we have a somewhat conclusive diagnosis of Lyme disease. However, a lot has stayed the same.
It's best if you just read it.
The Awakening
As I awoke with another piercing migraine this morning, discouraging thoughts went racing through my head. I wondered if the pain would ever cease; if all the intercessory prayers, along with my own, would ever receive an affirmative response; if I would ever be able to enjoy my senior year of high school; if I would ever be on top again. Though my head was pounding, I arose from my warm and comfortable, queen-sized bed with a sigh, in order to arrive at yet another doctor’s appointment where I would undergo yet another diagnostic test. The fun just never ends.
This is a typical morning in the life of Elisabeth Edelman—a seventeen year old, chronic migraine sufferer. She has faced abounding disappointments, tainting every area of her life. Elisabeth’s view of hope is now as an unreachable, theoretical concept held captive behind a wall of suffering and despair that is built upon a firm foundation of unfortunate circumstances. Her passions and desires are suppressed by the burdens of the present, and the future is uncertain. Once uncertainty and disappointment merge, discouragement accelerates.
As my mom ignored multiple speed limit signs while driving me to my appointment, I reflected on what had taken place the previous night. Being blindsided in a conversation with my director, I was informed that my spot in a prestigious performance group was questionable. Though I was shocked, I knew my health dictated the action. If I ever thought that my life was hard enough, a curve ball would hit me, thus, convincing me otherwise. In that moment, quiet tears of sadness streamed down my face, being replenished by an overwhelming sense of helplessness. I could do nothing to change the situation.
The performing arts give Elisabeth an outlet to express herself. They are therapeutic in distracting her from the constant, searing pain. The stage is also a place where Elisabeth can do what she does best—act as if she is not suffering. It provides Elisabeth with a mask that she can wear in addition to the armor of courage and stoicism she must put on everyday. While authenticity is adulterated when masks are worn off stage, masks are expected and required to be worn on stage. However, if Elisabeth’s stage mask were torn off, it would expose a young girl with a wounded spirit and hinder her expression of passion.
After returning home, taking medication, and resting my eyes in hope of relieving some pain, I craved a taste of the outside world, so I checked my e-mail. With little expectation that any message in my inbox could lift my heavy-laden spirit, I was pleasantly surprised by what I assumed would be just another pestering college reminder. It contained an encouraging quote that Abigail Adams had written in a letter to her son, John Quincy, “The habits of a vigorous mind are formed in contending with difficulties. Great necessities call out great virtues. When a mind is raised, and animated by the scenes that engage the heart, then those qualities which would otherwise lay dormant, wake into life and form the character of the hero and the statesman.” I was not quite sure how it happened, but when I finished reading that powerful quote, my anxious thoughts were silenced.
As Elisabeth sits back in her chair, something awakes inside her. Her hope has broken through the wall of suffering and despair, illuminating the foundation of unfortunate circumstances. Her competitive nature has been refreshed, and she can now mentally prepare herself for battle against the opposition that currently wages war upon her entire being. Hope has transformed darkness into the light that guides Elisabeth through the despair of her present trial. Though she is in a season of grief, she knows that her pain is temporary while her hope is eternal.
I prayed the night before that God would remind me of what is essential in life, and He answered my prayer by restoring the hope that I had lost. Being caught in a storm of my own, I had lost sight of the blessings that have been bestowed upon me. I often pitied myself, and it consumed me. However, when I read Abigail Adams quote, I was inspired. I was reminded that my heart and mind are formed by the challenges I must face; without overcoming these obstacles, a crucial part of me remains dormant. Hope awakened my desire to endure this temporary pain in order that I may pursue my passions and live a joyous life again. I could lose everything, but if I have hope, I know I will be victorious.
Hope is the distinguishing factor separating despair and perseverance, and it is often found unexpectedly amidst struggle and hardship. Though at times it may seem as if hope has been captured by the high walls of despair, with a little faith and perseverance, hope can conquer those walls, take hold of passion and, thus, illuminate darkness. Character has the opportunity to develop the most when it is tested through the darkest trial; yet no light is too small for perseverance to be ignited, hope to be restored, and passion to be renewed. Ultimately, victory is won in the light.
A lot has changed since then. Now we have a somewhat conclusive diagnosis of Lyme disease. However, a lot has stayed the same.
It's best if you just read it.
The Awakening
As I awoke with another piercing migraine this morning, discouraging thoughts went racing through my head. I wondered if the pain would ever cease; if all the intercessory prayers, along with my own, would ever receive an affirmative response; if I would ever be able to enjoy my senior year of high school; if I would ever be on top again. Though my head was pounding, I arose from my warm and comfortable, queen-sized bed with a sigh, in order to arrive at yet another doctor’s appointment where I would undergo yet another diagnostic test. The fun just never ends.
This is a typical morning in the life of Elisabeth Edelman—a seventeen year old, chronic migraine sufferer. She has faced abounding disappointments, tainting every area of her life. Elisabeth’s view of hope is now as an unreachable, theoretical concept held captive behind a wall of suffering and despair that is built upon a firm foundation of unfortunate circumstances. Her passions and desires are suppressed by the burdens of the present, and the future is uncertain. Once uncertainty and disappointment merge, discouragement accelerates.
As my mom ignored multiple speed limit signs while driving me to my appointment, I reflected on what had taken place the previous night. Being blindsided in a conversation with my director, I was informed that my spot in a prestigious performance group was questionable. Though I was shocked, I knew my health dictated the action. If I ever thought that my life was hard enough, a curve ball would hit me, thus, convincing me otherwise. In that moment, quiet tears of sadness streamed down my face, being replenished by an overwhelming sense of helplessness. I could do nothing to change the situation.
The performing arts give Elisabeth an outlet to express herself. They are therapeutic in distracting her from the constant, searing pain. The stage is also a place where Elisabeth can do what she does best—act as if she is not suffering. It provides Elisabeth with a mask that she can wear in addition to the armor of courage and stoicism she must put on everyday. While authenticity is adulterated when masks are worn off stage, masks are expected and required to be worn on stage. However, if Elisabeth’s stage mask were torn off, it would expose a young girl with a wounded spirit and hinder her expression of passion.
After returning home, taking medication, and resting my eyes in hope of relieving some pain, I craved a taste of the outside world, so I checked my e-mail. With little expectation that any message in my inbox could lift my heavy-laden spirit, I was pleasantly surprised by what I assumed would be just another pestering college reminder. It contained an encouraging quote that Abigail Adams had written in a letter to her son, John Quincy, “The habits of a vigorous mind are formed in contending with difficulties. Great necessities call out great virtues. When a mind is raised, and animated by the scenes that engage the heart, then those qualities which would otherwise lay dormant, wake into life and form the character of the hero and the statesman.” I was not quite sure how it happened, but when I finished reading that powerful quote, my anxious thoughts were silenced.
As Elisabeth sits back in her chair, something awakes inside her. Her hope has broken through the wall of suffering and despair, illuminating the foundation of unfortunate circumstances. Her competitive nature has been refreshed, and she can now mentally prepare herself for battle against the opposition that currently wages war upon her entire being. Hope has transformed darkness into the light that guides Elisabeth through the despair of her present trial. Though she is in a season of grief, she knows that her pain is temporary while her hope is eternal.
I prayed the night before that God would remind me of what is essential in life, and He answered my prayer by restoring the hope that I had lost. Being caught in a storm of my own, I had lost sight of the blessings that have been bestowed upon me. I often pitied myself, and it consumed me. However, when I read Abigail Adams quote, I was inspired. I was reminded that my heart and mind are formed by the challenges I must face; without overcoming these obstacles, a crucial part of me remains dormant. Hope awakened my desire to endure this temporary pain in order that I may pursue my passions and live a joyous life again. I could lose everything, but if I have hope, I know I will be victorious.
Hope is the distinguishing factor separating despair and perseverance, and it is often found unexpectedly amidst struggle and hardship. Though at times it may seem as if hope has been captured by the high walls of despair, with a little faith and perseverance, hope can conquer those walls, take hold of passion and, thus, illuminate darkness. Character has the opportunity to develop the most when it is tested through the darkest trial; yet no light is too small for perseverance to be ignited, hope to be restored, and passion to be renewed. Ultimately, victory is won in the light.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
I expected...
A year ago, I expected that I would have successfully completed my first semester at Messiah College by now, but God had different plans.
Six months ago, I expected that I would have moved into my dorm with my two roommates this past weekend. I expected to have survived my first full day of classes today, and fall asleep in a building with hundreds of other girls and guys my age. I never expected that I'd be sitting here in my bed, alone, in the same room as always, at 11 o'clock updating my blog...
I expected to be in a place where I could learn, where I could thrive, where I could mature. Like most of people my age, I expected that to happen at college. Little did I know, that where I am today, is the very place where God destined me to learn, to thrive, and to mature in ways that I never would've expected (Eph. 3:20). In the quiet stillness of my room, in the comfort of my queen-sized bed, with a heating pad bringing waves of relief to the pounding in my head--this is where much of my learning takes place these days.
And you know what? I'm completely okay with that. As much as I'd love to be learning about literature, psychology, statistics, and philosophy at college right now, I am convinced that God still desires to teach me things here that I wouldn't be able to learn elsewhere. I have learned life lessons that I could never have learned from my professors at college (no offense to them, but some lessons are divine, beyond man's ability to teach, and must be taught by the Best of the best if you know what I mean), and I am learning new things everyday.
Yes, I'm not where I expected to be by now, but I believe I'm where I'm supposed to be. I expected to be healed from this invasive illness that has plagued me for nearly the past two years, but I'm still fighting it. I expected to have my life back by now, but I'm learning that in order to find my life, I first must lose my life (Matt. 10:39). That sounds so strange, I know, but I'm still just learning, so it's okay.
About an hour ago, I expected to be finishing up writing a post entitled, "Enrolling in the School of Prayer," since that's the topic of the book I just started reading, but I kind of went a different direction. Maybe the lesson to be learned tonight is more along this line---When reality doesn't line up with our expectations (which happens A LOT more than we'd like) we just gotta let go of our pride and roll with it. Stay positive, and keep on keeping on!
Yep! Sounds good to me! :)
Peace out!
Six months ago, I expected that I would have moved into my dorm with my two roommates this past weekend. I expected to have survived my first full day of classes today, and fall asleep in a building with hundreds of other girls and guys my age. I never expected that I'd be sitting here in my bed, alone, in the same room as always, at 11 o'clock updating my blog...
I expected to be in a place where I could learn, where I could thrive, where I could mature. Like most of people my age, I expected that to happen at college. Little did I know, that where I am today, is the very place where God destined me to learn, to thrive, and to mature in ways that I never would've expected (Eph. 3:20). In the quiet stillness of my room, in the comfort of my queen-sized bed, with a heating pad bringing waves of relief to the pounding in my head--this is where much of my learning takes place these days.
And you know what? I'm completely okay with that. As much as I'd love to be learning about literature, psychology, statistics, and philosophy at college right now, I am convinced that God still desires to teach me things here that I wouldn't be able to learn elsewhere. I have learned life lessons that I could never have learned from my professors at college (no offense to them, but some lessons are divine, beyond man's ability to teach, and must be taught by the Best of the best if you know what I mean), and I am learning new things everyday.
Yes, I'm not where I expected to be by now, but I believe I'm where I'm supposed to be. I expected to be healed from this invasive illness that has plagued me for nearly the past two years, but I'm still fighting it. I expected to have my life back by now, but I'm learning that in order to find my life, I first must lose my life (Matt. 10:39). That sounds so strange, I know, but I'm still just learning, so it's okay.
About an hour ago, I expected to be finishing up writing a post entitled, "Enrolling in the School of Prayer," since that's the topic of the book I just started reading, but I kind of went a different direction. Maybe the lesson to be learned tonight is more along this line---When reality doesn't line up with our expectations (which happens A LOT more than we'd like) we just gotta let go of our pride and roll with it. Stay positive, and keep on keeping on!
Yep! Sounds good to me! :)
Peace out!
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