Tuesday, August 13, 2019

When “Normal” Isn’t What You Want To Hear

The last word in the world I wanted to hear fell on my ears all too soon. Normal. In one instant, I crumbled inside, tears sprang to my eyes, and fear of the unknown seemed to swallow me whole. 

My 24th year of life was confined to my house almost completely. I couldn’t even go to the grocery store without feeling like I was going to pass out any second. My muscles ached, my Brain was beyond foggy, and my energy level sat at a -10. The emotional toll compounded the physical strain when I realized infertility had come into the mix. And what word did I continually hear from doctor after doctor? Normal. 

The what if’s strangled my soul: Will I ever have a family? Will I ever have a social life again? Will I ever be able to pick up my career again as a nurse? I really felt the psalmist when he said, “He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog.” If anything was a bog or a pit, what I was living was it.

Dear sisters, I know I don’t have to tell you how it feels to be in a miry bog or a pit of destruction. While your pit may be cancer, a wayward child, or past regrets, you are up to your neck in it. 

But, while I was focusing on my own miry bog, the Lord showed me what this verse is actually about. Let’s read the whole thing.  “He drew me up from the pit of destruction, out of the miry bog, and set my feet upon a rock, making my steps secure.” He, My Father drew me up out of that pit. He snatched me out before I drowned in despair. He is my warrior, he fights my battles. Why else would Moses say, ... “Fear not, stand firm, and see the salvation of the LORD, which he will work for you today. For the Egyptians whom you see today, you shall never see again.” If the Israelites, with no military training, and in a mass of families young and old that had to be moving a snail’s pace with the Red Sea in front of them and angry Egyptians behind them isn’t a miry bog, I don’t know what else I could call it. 

What I love so much is the Warrior Jesus we see in place of the bog or the pit. The same Warrior that willingly fights for us today. The Lord not only pulled us out of the bog, he set our feet upon a rock and made our steps firm and secure. He gives us direction and intentionality in every circumstance, every time, every day. Cry out to him, dear one. Cry out to him through the most painful rejection you have ever faced, the scars that won’t give you peace, the words that cut you to your very soul. Keep your gaze intentionally on Christ alone, and let Him show you the warrior He is. When that happens, that bog or pit becomes an afterthought. 

Let Him pull you out and give you direction. Although weary and weak, we have Christ, our holy Warrior, against who none can stand fighting our battles, championing His will for us. I can’t promise you your situation will pass, but I can promise that your Holy warrior is constantly and proactively working on your behalf. Oh dear one, believe in Him. Believe His Words. Believe He hears. Believe He already has the victory. Believe He orders every step starting today until eternity with Him and walk. 

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