Way Maker ; Miracle Worker; Promise Keeper

Y’all, anytime I start to doubt gods faithfulness and goodness, I want you to point me to this moment. January 26, 2020. In my favorite place on earth (hillsong phoenix) worshipping alongside Jenna and literally weeping hand in hand as Lisa Harper spoke truth and revival into our lives. To the outside world, it probably looked like two friends with broken and weary hearts coming together to worship - or maybe it even looked so ordinary that it didn’t look like anything at all.

To me, it looked like something else entirely. 

You see, leading up to my port placement last year I prayed a lot of prayers. I prayed for miraculous healing, for something radical to happen so that I didn’t have to get the port. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to be sick anymore. And I didn’t know what else to do, so I prayed. And in desperation I prayed, lord, if this is your will, please just bring me peace about it. 

And I know now that this is exactly the miracle I had been praying for during those weeks. If you had told me almost a year ago that the randomly assigned IR nurse who I interacted with for no less than 1 hour would later be one of my best friends and personal hype squad, I never would have believed you. I couldn’t have predicted we’d be growing in faith together. But here we are, doing the damn thing. 

God didn’t mean for any of us to do it alone. He didn’t mean for us to struggle in silence or to filter our lives and only give the best versions of ourselves. 

We all say “god gives his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers” and honestly I’ve always taken issue with the phrase. Because I’m NOT that girl. I’m not strong. I’m not even a soldier! 

Then last night as we learned about Job and how he was stripped to nothing, publicly acknowledged his grief, and then WORSHIPPED- I realized it. Maybe god doesn’t give his toughest battles to his strongest soldiers. Maybe he gives them to those who will survive them (messily, raw, and real) and STILL continue to point to Him. 

So yes, looking back, on the day of port placement, I felt that God hadn’t listened. He hadn’t answered my bold prayers. I wasn’t healed. My physical health was a mess. And I didn’t even feel that the Hail Mary prayer was answer: I didn’t feel any peace at all over my decision. And even though it hurt, I continued to praise Him. I praised Him for the things I could see but also for the things I never would.

But in the palpable, faith filled room last night, I just knew it. This is the miracle. This is the answer to all those prayers that I thought had gone unnoticed.

This freeze frame moment in a 93 year old historic church - if it’s not an example of Gods redemptive grace, I don’t know what  is. If I could bottle up the feeling and revisit it as needed, I would. So I’m writing it here, for myself, to cement it in my memory. Hopefully forever. 

“Even when I can’t see it you’re working. Even when I don’t feel it you’re working. You are way maker, miracle worker, promise keeper, light in the darkness”

Faith & Chronic illness: reflections on healing, miracles, and hope.

It's true what they say, and then some.Having a chronic illness changes everything.

Having a chronic illness changes friendships, romantic relationships, career aspirations and plans, family dynamics, lifestyle choices, physical abilities, travel plans, mental and emotional well-being, and in my case, even personal faith.

In some ways, it’s my Christian faith that gets me through the toughest of times and helps me keep my head above water. But in others, it’s my faith that makes this journey even more complicated.

It’s ironic that the same verses and words, the same lyrics that I find solace in also cause me feelings of confusion and conflict, feelings of doubt and questioning.In some moments, my faith gives me hope, it gives me something to believe in, and it keeps me pushing forward to the next day; but in other moments it leaves me frustrated, cursing the verses pasted on my wall and tattooed on my body, questioning everything I've ever believed in.

I don’t know why chronic illness and health issues are a part of my story. I don’t know why I haven’t received the healing I pray for. It's something I spend a fair amount of time thinking and praying about, without any specific clarity.

Then, in church last week week, the pastor talked about believing in miracles; really, truly honestly believing that they can happen right here before our eyes, in our lives and in the world around us. And this turned out to be a lot more convicting than I would have guessed.I say I believe in God and I believe in miracles, but suddenly I’m realizing maybe I really don’t. Here's the thing - I boldly believe in and pray for miracles in other people's lives. I have held families hands as they prayed for healing for their young child, fully believing it was possible and that God would rescue them from their suffering. But right now, today, if you told me I would go to bed tonight and wake up tomorrow completely healed and cured and no longer in need of any treatments, I would probably laugh. Cause yeah, that’s clearly not happening. So I guess, digging a little deeper, maybe I really don’t have the bold kind of faith that believes in miracles. Because what kind of faith is that if it doesn’t hold true in the context of my own life?!I do believe that God has amazing plans for my life and ways to use me far beyond what I can comprehend - but it can be hard to see how this suffering is allowed by that same God who, I'm told, loves me more than I could ever make sense of. I know this suffering is nothing compared to what some are faced with - but this is nonetheless a daily physical, mental, and emotional battle.I guess I do believe, deep down, that He is good and I do believe that He is faithful- but it can be incredibly hard to see how all of *this* mess and struggle is a part of all of that.The same pastor, in the same sermon, also said that " sometimes to SEE the miracle for yourself, you first have to BE the miracle for someone else". And it's been weighing heavy on my heart ever since I heard those words.

You see, a few years ago I started praying bolder prayers. I stood up at a worship event when they asked the audience who wanted to go deeper in their faith, who wanted to start letting the Lord use them as a vessel, as a light in a dark world. And as I stood hand in hand with my best friend, I meant it. Wholeheartedly. I started saying things like “here I am Lord, send me” and actually meaning it. “Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander,” I sang over and over and over with tear filled eyes.Fast forward 3 years and somehow I ended up here. So perhaps, as it turns out, those bold kind of prayers don’t come with takesies backsies [ oops, pray carefully ;) ]

So maybe this is exactly the kind of deep and dark place I was intentionally sent to. Maybe this is the mountain I was assigned to climb. Maybe this is the valley I was meant to learn to climb out of. Maybe this is even what I prayed for unknowingly? I’m not sure why. Maybe to learn to be a more compassionate healthcare provider. Or maybe to be a burning light for others, to spread hope, to inspire strength. Maybe to help empower others fighting the same battles. And if that’s the case, I just hope I see Him someday and finally hear “well done, my good and faithful servant. Well done, Sarah”

There's a lot I still don't know. The list of questions I have is long, and the answers don't seem to be getting much clearer.This I do know: He has gone before me and carefully planned every stepping stone of the path.  I don't know if my personal healing or redemption will happen here on earth or if it will be fulfilled in heaven, but I cling to the fact that He has written the end of this story, and He has promised that above all, it will be good. And if, through these experiences and struggles I can somehow bring glory to His name or bring people to know Him, I will be so thankful.

If someday, somehow I can be the miracle that someone else needs to see, I will be thankful and humbled to be used in such a big way.If I wake up tomorrow healed and healthy, I will be thankful.

And if not, He is still good.And if not, I will still praise His name.

2018- a move from resolutions to a revolution

"Three things last forever -faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love"

My word for 2018: L O V E.First and foremost, love for myself. A love so real and full that it effortlessly radiates from within me to those around me.

This means vulnerability with myself, and with those around me. Being willing to admit the struggles I’ve had and to work on improving myself rather than continuing to pretend these issues and flaws don’t exist. This means openness to sharing my struggles with the ones I love, but even more importantly, an openness to accepting love and support from others rather than turning away.

This means a dedication to showing love to other people in real ways with more actions than words- picking up the phone, writing a letter, showing up on the doorstep, helping with the kids, bringing a meal- all with the goal of helping others feel real love for themselves, too.

And most importantly, this means a commitment to learning to love myself in such a real way that I can actually believe I’m worthy of love from friends, family, and most of all, the One who created me to be just the way I am

Called to Love

I am always hesitant to say or do anything that will rock the boat or start a divisive conversation. But I think its only fair that if I’m an openly proud Christian, I should be equally vocal about my opinion on “controversial” issues. So here’s my jumbled thoughts on #nationalcomingoutday. Sure, gay people are not living life exactly according to how God intended or instructed. But I’ll be the first to admit, neither am I. I’m completely imperfect, broken at times, and consistently make mistakes. My sin is no better or more holy than yours, because that’s simply impossible. The coolest thing about Christianity, though, is that God loves me anyway, despite so many flaws. Everytime I walk, run, or sprint away from Him and into a sinful world full of bad decisions, he chases me down more intensely than before and quietly whispers “I am here, and I still love you”. Over and over again, until I finally listen. He doesn’t give up or say “well now she’s really done it....” he continues to love and pursue me until I choose to hear the whisper.  His love did not come with a caveat, like “I love you but only if you make good choices and do exactly as I said” or “I love you but you need to be better”. In fact, He explicitly showed love to those who made the wrong choice. That’s simply who He was. Jesus didn’t come to save those who already knew Him. He came for the broken, the hurting, the criminals. He came for the tax collectors, the unloveable, the “least of these”. He came for the lepers, and showed them love amongst those refused to do so. He is the KING of unpopular opinions and controversial decisions. He loved to rock the boat in order to save those who were deemed “unlovable”. He was mocked for what He did, and ridiculed for who He loved. But He did it anyway. What if, instead of trying to “pray away the gay” we as Christians decided instead to pray FOR the gay and agree to walk alongside them lovingly and patiently as Jesus himself once did? And not because we want them to change, but because we want them to experience His pure and real love. Christianity has nothing to do with loving other Christians, and everything to do with radically loving everyone the way Jesus did, without caveats, without judgment, without pointing fingers. Why? Because it’s what Jesus would do. 

“Oh Jesus, friend of sinners Open our eyes to the world at the end of our pointing fingers

Let our hearts be led by mercy

Help us reach with open hearts and open doors

Oh Jesus, friend of sinners, break our hearts for what breaks yours”