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God’s Faithfulness in a Winter Season: The Gift of Witness

MARISSA HENLEY|GUEST “A prayer of Habakkuk the prophet, according to Shigionoth. O Lord, I have heard the report of you, and your work, O Lord, do I fear. In the midst of the years revive it; in the midst of the years make it known; in wrath remember mercy.” (Habakkuk 3:1-2) Have you ever found yourself in a winter season of suffering, when your world feels dark and cold? My winter season started 14 years ago when I found a lump in my breast. The lump led to tests, which led to a biopsy, which led to a phone call on the day before my 34th birthday. The doctor said the biopsy revealed a rare and aggressive cancer in the lining of my blood vessels called angiosarcoma. A quick internet search informed me that I was statistically unlikely to live to see my three young children reach adolescence. I started a treatment plan of high doses of chemotherapy, covered by the prayers of thousands of people and supported by the most amazing community of family and friends. After two rounds of chemo, my situation got even worse. My platelets were dangerously low from the chemo, and the only way for me to continue treatment was to start a clinical trial at MD Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, 700 miles from my home in Arkansas...

God’s Faithfulness in a Winter Season: The Gift of Witness2025-01-28T19:09:55+00:00

Parenting is Hard

LISA UPDIKE | GUEST Parenting is hard. I mean really hard. I know. Of course, parenting is rewarding, wonderful, and awe inspiring. I’m not denying any of that. In parenting, we experience a depth of love that we never knew we could fathom. In parenting, we catch a glimpse of our Heavenly Father’s great love for us. In parenting, we begin to understand just a wee bit of why Jesus laid down his life for us, his beloved children. Still. Parenting is hard. Some days more than others. I’m right, and you know it. It’s important on those difficult days to remember that hard isn’t bad; it’s just hard. In fact, hard might even be good. It’s funny. We think if God calls us to do something then He will make the path clear, straight, navigable. Somehow, we actually believe that if God calls us to something, and we obey, then it should be easy. But somehow life just doesn’t work that way, does it? You see, God calls us to the hard. Jesus promised that we would have tribulation in this world (John 16:33). Paul even said that Christians rejoice in their sufferings! (Rom. 5:3) And sometimes, parenting is definitely full of both tribulation and suffering. I wonder if, when God told Eve there would be pain in childbearing (Gen. 3:16) if He meant the whole experience of raising children would increase in pain. We parents are so vulnerable. After all, we love these children of ours and want to protect them from all the difficult things that can happen: rejection, failure, sickness, disability, temptation…on and on the list goes. When our children suffer, we suffer. But our job isn’t to protect them from suffering, is it? After all, God loves us far more than we love our children, and He actually brings suffering to us for our good. Our job is to point our children to Jesus in the midst of it all...

Parenting is Hard2025-01-18T15:06:55+00:00

Wrestling With God in Our Suffering

JULIANNE ATKINSON |GUEST As soon as I saw the area code of the phone call my husband was receiving, I knew something was off. I was pregnant with our first child and set to move for his job to Nashville, TN at the beginning of my third trimester. This was a city I had friends in, I knew there were good churches there, and it was a city we both liked. After a short conversation, my husband conveyed the news that there was a post they hadn’t accounted for in rural, northern New York state and he was now at the top of the list to take it. I was disappointed, but it wasn’t my first move and I hoped that God would have a good church and community there waiting when we arrived. Instead, I found a desolate place I never grew to love. I had left a large church in San Antonio where I was on staff and knew and loved each family and their kids by name. In New York, there were a  handful of families hoping for a PCA pastor to come and pastor them. Church members brought meals when I had my son, but it felt more like they were checking off a box than done so out of friendship. I gathered the women of the church and started a Bible study in hopes of fostering fellowship as we studied God’s Word together. I ended up spending the study time preventing my son from climbing sky high, getting into people’s desks, and drinking bathroom chemicals. My husband worked long hours, weekends, and sometimes over an hour away. I was more lonely than I was during the Covid lockdown. It seemed like every hope I had for our move was dashed. The depths of disappointment I felt contrasted with the hope of change and led me to wrestle with God through it. Here my head-knowledge intersected with my very real and difficult circumstances. Were my toes digging into a sandy beach as the storm swirled around me or were they resting on the solid rock of the foundation of God’s promises? If everything around me fell down, I knew He would not.  As believers, sometimes we suffer pain and loss so deep that we come to a crossroads in our relationship with God and who he is. Some might respond to that pain as though with a finger in his face saying, “How could GOD do this to ME?” Our hearts are hardened. We feel bitter. We struggle to forgive God. And we turn and run FROM him. Others might ask the same question, but with trust in God’s faithfulness to his promises—that he really is who he says he is. “How COULD God do this to me?” In that moment, we run TO Him and His Word. As we wrestle with his Word, we will find rest in the midst of our pain and rock under our feet...

Wrestling With God in Our Suffering2025-01-08T18:35:45+00:00

All We Can Do Is Pray: Prayer for California and the Wildfires

SHARON ROCKWELL | CONTRIBUTOR This year, more than one illness spread through our extended family, hampering most of our plans for Christmas and New Year’s celebrations. It seemed like we missed so much of the fun we normally associate with Christmas time that I left our tree up a little longer than usual in an effort to hang on to the season. To extend some of the festivities, I even went with a friend to see the Rose Parade floats that were lined up for viewing on Jan 2nd. I usually just watch the parade on TV, but this year I felt the need to make the drive to Pasadena and smell the roses for myself. Who could imagine that less than a week later, I would be watching some of that same area go up in smoke as wildfires spread across southern California. Our local news is full of stories about individuals who lost their homes and businesses. Many left their homes with nothing but the clothes they were wearing. Yet as I have listened to the live interviews of people who escaped and who are waiting to hear if their house is still standing, or of those who have lost it all, one theme surfaced. They shared the perspective that they had lost only things. They had their lives, their loved ones and their faith. The subject of prayer came up often as newscasters casually ended their reports with the phrase “our thoughts and prayers are with you.” One commentator reporting the devastation as the TV cameras panned block after block of scorched homes even stated in a resigned tone, “All we can do is pray.” All we can do is pray? All we can do is pray!...

All We Can Do Is Pray: Prayer for California and the Wildfires2025-01-18T15:03:18+00:00

Though and Yet

PATRICIA CURTISS | GUEST I’m a Florida native and have lived here most of my life. Recently our state—along with several others—was slammed by Hurricanes Helene and Milton. It has been devastating and burdensome for family and friends. Over the past several weeks, I’ve been reading through the Bible’s minor prophets. It has struck me how some of the literal events described, or the imagery used, refer to such devastations: “…the sea grew even wilder than before…” Jonah 1:13 “…The mountains melt beneath him and the valleys split apart like wax before the fire, like water rushing down a slope…” Micah 1:4 “…His way is in the whirlwind and the storm, and the clouds are the dust of his feet. He rebukes the sea and dries it up; he makes all the rivers run dry…The mountains quake before him and the hills melt away. The earth trembles at his presence, the world and all who live in it…” Nahum 1:3b-5 And then, there’s the last stanza in Habakkuk. Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields produce no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation. God, the Lord, is my strength, he makes my feet like the deer’s; he makes me tread on my high places. Habakkuk 3:17-19 Habakkuk’s Walk Writing is a challenge. When writing, you’re trying to communicate your thoughts to someone without using your voice’s tonal inflections, facial expressions, or body language to assist in meaning. What is written must fully carry the message. It’s even more problematic when writing poetry where every word’s letter, every word’s sound, and every mark of punctuation is crucial in translating the poet’s meaning. The Book of Habakkuk reflects the language of psalms (Hebrew poetry) in the expression of his complaints, reflections on God’s character, and response of obedience. He was really steamed that the kingdom of Judah had turned away from faith in God under the rule of two wicked kings, Manasseh and Amon. Habakkuk understood God needed to punish Judah for its sinful rebellion. He just didn’t understand why a good and just God would choose to use a more wicked nation (the Chaldeans, 1:8) to do the punishing—they deserved punishment, too. After Habakkuk goes through a question/answer period with God, he responds by trusting and rejoicing.  His example encourages us to do the same when faced with debilitating circumstances....

Though and Yet2024-12-05T14:54:13+00:00

Come All the Not So Faithful

MARYBETH MCGEE | GUEST I wept quietly, hoping no one would notice, as I sat among our church family at the annual Christmas concert. I had never heard the song before, but the first line was like a sucker punch after many years of trials. This is the time of year when the old familiar songs begin to echo through the air and you hear the call “O come, all ye faithful, joyful, and triumphant.” But what if you are entering this Advent season feeling more like the lyrics of a not as well-known Christmas song by Sovereign Grace Music, O Come, All You Unfaithful? “O come, all you unfaithful Come, weak and unstable Come, know you are not alone O come, barren and waiting ones Weary of praying, come” [1] I had experienced much of what those lyrics described. I felt unfaithful, weak, and unstable. Especially after nearly a decade of infertility genetic testing confirmed that God had knit a forever barren womb into my DNA. I was also weary of praying for a foster care placement that would result in adoption. This was followed by more waiting, only to then become even more weary of praying for an answer that would solve the many challenges that come with raising children with ever increasing special needs. Trials of so many kinds had washed over the bow of our family’s little boat of life, like waves on an unpredictable sea. And yet, James had the audacity to tell us that our trials should be counted as joy? “Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know the testing of your faith produces steadfastness. And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking nothing.” (James 1:2-4)...

Come All the Not So Faithful2024-11-22T17:00:56+00:00

The Good Portion of Christmas

MEAGHAN MAY | CONTRIBUTOR As a child, I was fascinated by the tiny nativity set at my grandmother’s home. These little figures told me a big story. But as an adult, I ponder if these sets are realistic.  Mary is fresh-faced, neatly pressed, and beautifully dressed. She doesn’t seem uncomfortable with her flapping stomach after her recent labor. The baby Jesus is giggling while placed in the animals’ snack bowl and dear Joseph doesn’t seem overwhelmed by the task of caring for his betrothed and new child. Does the pristine nativity scene set unrealistic expectations for our own celebrations? I have found that some of my own Christmases have been more of a mess than they have been merry. Each Christmas I have a list of key elements that I think, if I can just pull all this together, we will have a Merry Christmas. But I can tell a lot about what I long for at Christmas when I start to name what I am worried about. I am tempted to think that because things have gone awry, God is holding out on me. I fail to consider that God is offering me something more than what I am requesting....

The Good Portion of Christmas2024-11-22T16:44:40+00:00

Daring to Hope

ALICE KIM | CONTRIBUTOR At the end of Mark chapter one (vv. 40-45), we are introduced to a man plagued with leprosy. He lived his life as a public service announcement warning people to keep their distance lest they become like him. His inescapable daily reminder of a scorned, forgotten, and marginalized existence would be humiliating and painful enough to make anyone cower. Nevertheless, as Jesus’ public ministry to the ill and demonically tormented was widespread, he found himself at a crossroad between deferring hope or desiring for something more (Pr. 13:12). He courageously chose the latter. Notably, the narrative seems to slow down as the man approaches Jesus and kneels before him. It’s as if Mark leans in and personally invites readers to do likewise. A hope long buried was suddenly resurrected. Although awakening hope would be risky, to the point of vulnerability to greater ridicule, isolation, and judgment, the cost of doing nothing could potentially haunt him with unrelenting regrets filled with what-if’s. His lowly posture embodies his desperate plea. It exudes the depth of anguish, indescribable affliction, and utter shame. His confession, “If you will, you can make me clean” carries the heaviness of helplessness and dependence...

Daring to Hope2024-10-31T18:09:11+00:00

Gethsemane Glasses

LAURA PATTERSON | GUEST I awoke that Friday morning in May to the same white walls and sterile smell for the twenty-second day in a row. The same dingy blinds covered the same window. The birthday cards I’d received the week prior were still taped up on the mirror on the far wall. The now familiar white blanket engulfed my legs and torso. The sense of familiarity I’d come to find in my surroundings was suddenly arrested that morning as feelings of shock, dread, and numbness flooded my body and left me wondering if I was truly awake. I’d just given birth during the wee hours of the morning and, after being returned to my antepartum room without my baby, I had somehow managed to sleep for an hour or two. Doctors, nurses, and a lactation consultant visited me in my haze, and I eventually got the news that I could go meet my child. My nurse assisted me into a wheelchair, and I took the longest ride of my life to the adjoining children’s hospital. I knew I was headed to meet my baby in the neonatal intensive care unit, but no amount of exposure or information could have prepared me for the shock of meeting my two-and-a-half-pound infant covered in tubes, lines, and bruises. The well-intentioned nurse assigned to my son that day noticed my tears, came to the bedside, and said gently, “it’s ok, mom.” “NO, IT’S NOT!” I yelled deep within my soul.  From Demanding to Entrusting My internal cry that morning was full of truth. My baby was not ‘ok’. The neonatologist sat my husband and I down in a private room only hours later  to help us understand that we should expect our son to die within a couple of days’ time. I felt the very visceral reality of life in a sin-sick, disease-laden, death-cursed world. Crying, ‘It’s not ok!’ wasn’t wrong. But it was incomplete...

Gethsemane Glasses2024-10-27T21:14:50+00:00

God is Our Helper in Suffering

My Help Comes from the Lord A Song of Ascents. Psalm 121  1  I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come?  2  My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. 3  He will not let your foot be moved; he who keeps you will not slumber. 4  Behold, he who keeps Israel will neither slumber nor sleep. 5  The Lord is your keeper; the Lord is your shade on your right hand. 6  The sun shall not strike you by day, nor the moon by night. 7  The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life. 8  The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in from this time forth and forevermore. A few weeks ago, my family and I joyfully approached the end of my husband’s nine-week assignment away from us. He was set to fly home from a base near Montgomery, Alabama, but as the day approached, we realized that Hurricane Helene was the last obstacle between us. As we watched the weather coverage, we recalled our own experience of Hurricane Ian when it came ashore in south Florida. As we remembered visiting our neighbors' soggy homes and apartments, washing their laundry, and sorting through their belongings hoping to find a starting place to rebuild, we now prayed for many friends whose lives would be impacted by another great storm. Encouragement from Psalm 121 Psalm 121, a song of ascents, played in the background of my thoughts as I texted and messaged our PCA family. These fifteen psalms are a familiar text that I use to ponder our pilgrim life lived in community. But these last difficult days, this psalm has been a prayer for our sisters, scattered throughout Florida and the southeast.  The psalmist knew his vulnerability as he scrambled up the hillside toward Jerusalem. He was not alone, but still, the pilgrims who ascended this trail were susceptible to falling, scorching sun in the day, bandits, flash floods, wild animals, dehydration, and sheer exhaustion. Without a GPS, map, or compass, there may have been moments on the path when one would wonder if they had lost the way. Something about this climb made the pilgrims’ vulnerability more obvious... 

God is Our Helper in Suffering2024-10-19T12:42:31+00:00
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