When the World Breaks

11 Thursday Sep 2025

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family, Living Faith

Tags

9.11, 9/11, American History, Charlie Kirk, Christian life, Christian Martyrs, christianity, Columbine Massacre, Columbine Shooting, Courage, faith, god, History, Jesus, Martyrdom, motherhood, parenting, Political Assassination, trials, World Trade Center

I was in 8th grade when I found out the world was broken. The Columbine High School Massacre shook a nation, and it shook me, too.

Sure, growing up in Texas, I had been vaguely aware of the 1993 Waco Siege and a bit more aware of the Oklahoma City Bombing since it provoked a moment of silence before one of my 10U softball games.

But when you’re 14 and your conversion to Christ is less than a year old, the martyrdom of would-be peers like Cassie Bernall and Rachel Scott tends to leave an imprint.

“Do you believe in God?”

“Yes, I do.”

Bang.

Just a few years later, the world broke again.

It was September 11, 2001, and I had just walked into my Junior English class. There was a bit of a commotion and a student turned on the TV in the upper corner of the room, opposite the door, so I had a perfect view as I walked in. There was a tall building with smoke coming out of it. We watched with confusion, incredulity, and horror as a second plane ran into the other tower on live TV.

A girl in one of my classes shrieked that her dad was flying that day. She was a wreck until she found out he wasn’t on one of those planes.

Our US government test was canceled that afternoon. Instead, we watched and discussed history in the making, with room for questions, grief, and silence.

Just as my 14 year old self took courage from the stories of students who lost their lives at Columbine, I also followed stories of heroism from 9/11. Of particular note was Christian husband and father Tod Beamer. He was one of the men who left the illusory safety of his passenger seat to fight his plane’s hijacker. This is the plane that crashed in a field rather than, say, the White House. His widowed wife tells the story in the book Let’s Roll.

These are the moments and stories we never forget.

You remember the images. You remember where you were standing when the news broke and your world broke with it.

Today’s remembrance of 9/11 follows in the fresh wake of another world-breaking moment.

I won’t soon forget where I was standing yesterday afternoon when Charlie Kirk was murdered. I was in the kitchen, about to process some chicken and prepare enchiladas for our church’s youth who would arrive at our house in a few hours. I picked up my phone to check Instagram, and at the top of my feed was a simple text post from Allie Beth Stuckey announcing the shooting and pleading for prayer.

My first thought was, “Oh, God. Not Charlie Kirk.” You might have expected political violence against some of the more abrasive and loud-mouthed conservative figures. But Charlie was a devout Christian, outspoken but incredibly patient and willing to engage in dialog with anyone. “Not Charlie.”

Tears and many prayers followed.

Prayers and tears while cooking taco meat and rolling enchiladas. I asked the boys to put on a good album of Christian music while they cleaned and I cooked. I hadn’t told them yet. Still processing the event and food and prayer after prayer after prayer.

But when the report came out that Charlie had died, and the boys could likely see that something had been eating at me or at least had me distracted, I finally told them. Right there in the kitchen, standing next to the kitchen table.

The words didn’t come easily. But they came. So did the stunned faces, the look of shock and sadness.

Yesterday my 8th grader found out the world was broken, if he didn’t know that already.

Because yesterday a good man got shot for speaking truth. It’s the same thing that happened to Cassie Bernall and Rachel Scott, just on a grander and more sophisticated scale.

Promote free speech and civil discourse by living it.

Clearly articulate conservative moral and political views.

Speak up for the unborn.

Promote biblical marriage and family life.

Unashamedly proclaim the gospel.

Bang.

A young woman widowed. Two precious children left without a father. A nation of young people touched by the violence against a man who touched their lives.

What are we to do? There’s anger, there’s grief. What does the Scripture say?

Be angry and yet do not sin.

Weep with those who weep.

Pray for the widow and orphan.

Pray for those who persecute you.

Speak the truth in love.

Do not be ashamed of the gospel: the world is broken, and we know the only Healer.

Yes, we can do that. By the grace of God, we can do all of that. I can encourage my sons in that.

But I’m also thankful that I had responsibilities to feed other people yesterday evening. To pull me away from the news updates, the doom scrolling, the negative spiral and back into the physical world of embodied service and life in community.

We welcomed our friends last night, shared a meal, read and reflected on the Sermon on the Mount, prayed with our teens, and then as parents and leaders, prayed for our teens. What a healing balm on such a tragic day. We just did the usual thing, nothing loud and fancy—we gathered as believers in Christ, practicing the ordinary means of grace.

And I think that’s where I’ll leave this. Where do we go from here? We go to the Word and all of the most basic Christian disciplines—both in our solitude and in community. We run to Jesus, pleading that He might produce the fruit of His Spirit in us. And we go about our ordinary, everyday obedience to Christ, rolling up our sleeves and our enchiladas, refusing to abandon our post, refusing to shy away from the hard conversations, refusing to compromise the truth, prayerful and Christ-exalting in all of it.

And maybe, just maybe, instead of being more afraid because of yesterday’s events, we’ll do it all with even more courage and boldness because of Charlie Kirk’s example.

“The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church.” —Tertullian

Some are called to serve Christ on the front lines by reaching young people on college campuses. And some of us are called to serve Christ on the front lines by raising our own young people before they land on a college campus.

So to the mamas out there: Hold the line. Make that meal. Arrange those flowers. Love your husband. Love your children. Call that friend. Provide the physical sustenance that brings people together for fellowship around the spiritual sustenance of the Word of God.

And pray for Erika Kirk as she seeks to do the same—without Charlie by her side.

Contentment Doesn’t Grow in a Vacuum

14 Saturday Sep 2024

Posted by Lauren Scott in Living Faith

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Christian contentment, Christian growth, Christian life, Christian Suffering, Contentment, devotional, faith, trials

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“I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.”

Philippians 4:13 is an oft-quoted bible verse. Here’s what people often mean by it:

“I can win at sports because Jesus gives me strength!”

“I can stand up to the bully through Christ who strengthens me!”

It’s like a meme that pre-dated the internet.

But the context of this beloved verse, as some of you well know, doesn’t lend itself to the kind of blank check that ‘90s Christian T-shirt manufacturers would like you to believe.

The apostle Paul isn’t facing giants, he’s practicing contentment. Here’s the verse in context:

10 But I rejoiced in the Lord greatly, that now at last you have revived your concern for me; indeed, you were concerned before, but you lacked opportunity. 11 Not that I speak from want, for I have learned to be content in whatever circumstances I am. 12 I know how to get along with humble means, and I also know how to live in prosperity; in any and every circumstance I have learned the secret of being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need. 13 I can do all things through Him who strengthens me. 14 Nevertheless, you have done well to share with me in my affliction.

Paul wrote this section of his letter to the Philippians to thank them for sending a gift to help meet his needs, to support him in his ministry. But he wants them to know that he’s more thankful for their hearts than for the gift itself. He’s learned to be content, whether “being filled or going hungry, …having abundance and suffering need.”

Here in the wealthy West, we might need to stop and really consider what that meant for the apostle Paul. For reference, he shares some of his resume in 2 Corinthians 4:7-18.

Paul didn’t learn contentment by sitting in a comfy chair, sipping a latte, and meditating on the idea of it. He learned contentment through trials and practice. The apostle James shares the same principle in his epistle:

Consider it joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect work…

So how do we, in a world full of modern conveniences and comforts, grow in contentment?

woman window christian contentment trials — Getaways are great, but real contentment will follow us back into the fray.

Learning Contentment through Giving Thanks in All Circumstances

To be content means to be satisfied, happy, or pleased with what you have. So at the most basic level, we can learn contentment by stopping to recognize what we have—and that it has been graciously given to us by a good God.

When times are good, look around and give thanks for the Lord’s provision. When times are bad, do the same. It might be harder, but there is always something for which we can give thanks. Even if you have to start with the fact that you’re alive.

Sometimes it’s easier to practice this when things are either extraordinarily good or extraordinarily bad. It can be harder to recognize the goodness of God in our everyday mundane lives as we simply go with the flow and try to keep up with the pace of life. This is why, in any season, it is worthwhile to sit down and look around you. Take it in. And give thanks. Audibly, in a journal, expressed towards God and towards others: Give thanks.

Learning Contentment through Trials

Sometimes the Lord provides ample opportunity to grow in contentment through the trials we experience. Going through some really hard trials at the turn of the year has made some of our more recent challenges both harder and yet also easier to face. While we’re somewhat blindsided by each one that comes up, we’re also at least somewhat practiced at suffering and looking to the Lord in our need. When the last hard season has hardly even ended and you’re faced with another, it’s a lot. But the endurance muscles are still warm from use. They might be tired, but they at least know the drill.

We don’t automatically get contentment from our trials, however. The Apostle Paul had to “learn” contentment. And James reminded his readers to “consider it joy” when they faced trials. Mere meditation on the sidelines of life isn’t going to produce contentment in us without that contentment being tested in some way. But biblical meditation is essential if those trials are to produce real contentment in the Lord.

This is not and either-or proposition. It’s both-and.

So go ahead and enjoy your coffee as you dig into God’s word, hide it in your heart, and pray for God’s Spirit to empower you to grow in contentment. Just don’t imagine that sitting comfortably with your Bible is the end-game or even all of the means. Welcome God’s invitation to grow in faith, trust, endurance, and contentment with each new trial you face. And bring the Scriptures into your everyday moments, reminding yourself of Truth right in the middle of the challenges you’re facing.

Learning Contentment through Fasting

Even in easier seasons, however, there are practical ways we can grow in contentment. We can “discipline [ourselves] for the sake of godliness.” We don’t have to wait for the trials to come. We don’t have to seek them out, but it can be a good thing to practice dealing with less comfort than we’re used to.

In fact, Jesus expected His followers to do just that. In the Sermon on the Mount, He didn’t say, “If you fast…” He said “When you fast…” (Matt. 6:16-18)

Fasting is one of those spiritual disciplines that we maybe prefer to forget exists. If you’re starting to get uncomfortable, rest assured I’m stepping on my own toes, too.

Christians are not called to deny themselves for the sake of being super religious or having something to boast about (Jesus condemns those motives!). The point is to turn down those things that compete with the Lord and to turn our hunger and our desires toward Him, knowing that He is the One who can really satisfy our souls and meet our deepest needs.

Another purpose in fasting is to express grief or desperation in prayer. If I look around and think that the world is a big hot mess right now, but I keep stuffing my face at all hours like nothing is wrong, am I really concerned about what’s going on or am I just shrugging my shoulders and moving on to my next meal?

It’s hard to eat when you’re grieving. When you’ve lost someone or long for something so deeply that it hurts. Am I willing to make myself uncomfortable [at least some of the time] so that my prayers come with an earnestness that reflects a heart that grieves over a fallen world?

One very practical result of saying “no” to a meal or two is the realization that we can, in fact, survive on less than we usually consume. We can learn to be satisfied with less by the practice of fasting.

Learning Contentment through Putting Others First; “Put off” and “Put on”

Now, short of fasting (or perhaps in addition to fasting), we can look for opportunities to put the needs and desires of others ahead of our own. Do you take the biggest slice of cake or offer it to someone else? Do you rush in for the best seats or look for others you can honor above yourself?

Whether we eat or drink or whatever we do, we ought to do it for the glory of God. (1 Corinthians 10:31) If there’s an area where you can’t bring yourself to say no for a short while, or where you can’t bear the thought of someone getting the better deal, that’s probably an area where you need to learn contentment. Confess it, pray about it, yes. But then “bear fruit in keeping with repentance” (Matthew 3:8).

Roll up your sleeves and give or share in that area rather than simply trying to muster enough willpower to forgo the thing to no real purpose. Look for opportunities to celebrate the good things others have rather than defaulting to envy. And give thanks for what the Lord has given you rather than muttering about what you don’t have. As the Apostle Paul exhorts us in Ephesians chapter 4: “put off” the old and “put on” the new.

Learning Contentment through “Roughing It” a Bit

Aside from direct commands around thanksgiving, fasting, and putting others first, it’s possible and profitable to stretch yourself in other tangible ways. We’re getting into extra-biblical territory here, so take this as an invitation to think creatively about your own situation rather than feeling like you have to copy-and-paste. 😉

My family is into backpacking. We enjoy being out in God’s creation, hiking, and sleeping under the stars. But it isn’t always a walk in the park. And that’s also part of why we do it.

Our lives in the West can be so comfortable and controlled and disconnected from how people have had to live and survive for most of human history. It can be argued that we are weaker for it—physically, mentally, and perhaps even spiritually.

How ready am I for discomfort if I spend everyday of the year in a temperature-controlled box? If all of my furniture is selected to be aesthetically pleasing and super comfy? These are wonderful modern conveniences (for which we should give thanks!), but we do learn from what we live.

How ready am I to kneel down and serve others if I have carefully manicured hair, nails, and everything? If I am not used to getting dirty—ever?

When we go backpacking as a family, we often sit on rocks or the ground. We sleep in hammocks or on mats …on the ground. We hike in the heat. We sleep in the cold. We take care of our business in the woods. We don’t have access to indoor running water for days.

We have to gather and filter our drinking water. Sometimes it tastes great, other times, not so much. We have to bring our own food, so it’s a different kind of fare than we eat at home. We’ve learned first-hand the Proverb that “A sated man loathes honey, But to a famished man any bitter thing is sweet.” (Proverbs 27:7) Because just about any backpacking food tastes amazing after walking ten to fifteen miles in a day.

We don’t know what the future holds for us or for our sons. But we’d like to think that we are preparing our boys to serve the Lord in whatever capacity He calls them to. If they need to hike into the mountains to reach isolated villagers in some foreign country, well, they’ll have at least a little bit of training under their belts.

You may not need to get into backpacking. That’s not the point. But maybe you can find ways to stretch yourself, to step out of your comfort zone.

Go outside on a day when the weather isn’t ideal. Sit on the floor rather than a chair sometimes, if you are able. Walk outside barefoot just to try it out and see if your feet get less sensitive over time. Go for a long walk or do some other kind of exercise that gets your heart rate up.

To kind of flip the script, I would argue that these things are actually good for us beyond just the development of contentment and character. These things are healthy. Our attachment to comfort can rob us of more than just contentment if we don’t take some initiative to step out of our modern boxes and pursue a different path than the usual way-of-least-resistance to which we’re all so accustomed.

Learning Contentment through Christian Biography

If you need some inspiration and perspective, try reading or listening to stories of Christians who have served and suffered for the Lord throughout church history.

When I listened to Faithful Women and their Extraordinary God by Noel Piper earlier this year, I was struck by how believers who knew that persecution was coming, knew that they would be thrown into prison and barely be given enough to survive…these believers began to fast ahead of their suffering. We might think we’d need to “tank up” in order to last longer. But these precious saints wanted to “tank up” in a different way. They wanted to know the nearness of God in their trial before the worst of it came to them. They wanted to be practiced at depending upon the Lord for strength so that they would not give in to their torturers.

Our family backpacking is still just a field trip compared to that.

But this is the kind of perspective we gain when we read the stories of those who have gone before us: a “cloud of witnesses” like in Hebrews 11 who encourage us to run the race with endurance a la Hebrews 12:1-3.

Contentment Isn’t Learned in a Vacuum

Contentment isn’t a static virtue–it moves with us or it isn’t there at all. It doesn’t grow in a vacuum, sequestered away from real life. It’s a deep joy and satisfaction in the Lord that leads us to give thanks to Him in all things (1 Thess. 5:16-18), to put the needs of others ahead of our own, and to endure all kinds of circumstances, whether “being filled and going hungry, both of having abundance and suffering need” with joy–for the sake of Christ and His kingdom.

I hope you can gather from this article that aside from the straightforward biblical call on our lives, I’m not prescribing any particular practice of self-denial, as though backpacking (or whatever form of roughing it appeals most to you) is some kind of biblical ideal. But I am trying to say that merely creating a Bible-centered Zen garden away from all the noise of ordinary life isn’t the biblical ideal either. We might imagine that we will grow more content in a frictionless, vacuum-like environment, but that’s a peace that’s based on having the just-right environment, not a peace that grows in the heart, as a fruit of the Spirit, in the midst of all of life’s joys and sorrows.

How have you seen the Lord work contentment in your heart through trials? Or through voluntary fasting or other forms of self-denial?

Homemaker’s Journal: Things Fall Apart (Spring 2024)

23 Tuesday Jul 2024

Posted by Lauren Scott in Home and Family, Living Faith

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faith, Family Culture, Good Friday, Home and Family, homemade, homemaker's journal, Homemaking, trials

It’s about time I got around to my second installment of my seasonal Homemaker’s Journal. If I had gotten around to it last fall, I would have shared all about how we survived our first season of middle school basketball (this was a boost to my meal planning skills, to be sure).

And maybe I would have included some pictures of holiday food prep.

But that was a busy season and it led straight into a hard season. And that’s what this post is about.

This year our family has suffered a loss, a broken arm, and a broken hand (all three of these separate instances within about six weeks of each other—and in this same time we missed both Christmas and New Years with extended family due to the flu). Since then, we’ve had the upstairs AC go out (still needs replaced), a car break down (was recently replaced), a fender-bender (oops), another vehicle AC failure, another broken-arm scare that thankfully turned out to be a sprain, and a freezer that put itself on defrost voluntarily (recently replaced but some food is still in my MIL’s freezer…).

While there were some tears and confusion in the first part of the year, and for good reason, these later trials have found us a bit incredulous and wondering what it all means…but they’ve also found us laughing.

“Well, ok, Lord. What’s next?”

Even when God’s providence is hard, we know He’s good.

I’ve also joked with Nathaniel that these things are probably all his fault since he suggested that we focus on learning to pray this year. 😉 (Here’s a book we’ve read on the subject: Prayer: The Church’s Great Need.)

Even as we work to fix things, pay medical bills, and budget for multiple major purchases, we’re trusting the Lord that He knows what He’s doing in all of this whether we ever figure it all out or not.

We feel the weight of each of these trials, but there’s a funny, non-congruent peace that comes when you can laugh at it all and look to the Lord with open hands. I think we’re learning contentment.

“It is always possible to be thankful for what is given rather than to complain about what is not given. One or the other becomes a habit of life.”
~~Elisabeth Elliot

Instead of grumbling about the cost, we could give thanks that we had enough savings to get what we needed without going into debt.

We could see the wonderful things growing in our garden despite not having had as much time to dedicate to it as we had planned. (And we can certainly give thanks that our friends helped us start our garden this year for my husband’s birthday since his hand was broken.)

We could praise the Lord that He is indeed teaching us to pray. And not just for things but for hearts more ready to receive whatever it is that He chooses to give.

Now that you know the context of the past several months (or…year), let’s jump in to the things that have been growing despite all-the-things breaking down. Here are some of my cooking and gardening escapades from this past spring:

homemaker's journal — Candied oranges from Trader Joe’s and cinnamon Bundt cake.

cinnamon bundt cake homemaking — Candied oranges from Trader Joe’s and cinnamon Bundt cake.

It’s good to take stock of the good things that are growing and going on even in the midst of a hard season. God’s abundant goodness can be seen all around us if we look for it in faith.

Have you tried anything new lately?

No Story is the Same, No Pain Ever Wasted

08 Friday Dec 2017

Posted by Lauren Scott in Guest Posts, Living Faith

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

Christian life, Guest Post, poems, poetry, suffering, trials

Here’s a guest post from my friend Tabitha Alloway who writes at Pursuing Logos. Tabitha is a fellow homemaking, homeschooling wife, mother, and electrician–well, we don’t have that LAST part in common! She’s also a long-time family friend. Enjoy!

Have you ever started into a set of books by a particular author and found that before long you could predict the entire plot before you’d even cracked the next book open?

I remember a set like this from my teen years. I fell in love with the G. A. Henty historical fiction series, and for a while I devoured every book I could get.

But slowly I realized my interest was fading. Every book seemed to have the same plot; only the names, faces and times changed: Boy goes on adventures. Boy goes to war. Boy is captured. Boy escapes. Boy becomes hero. Boy meets girl. Boy settles down and lives happily ever after.

Sigh. Very idyllic.

And so predictably formulaic.

Now I’m not knocking the series—I still like the books and I’m looking forward to the day my kids can enjoy them. But it’s sometimes amusing (or annoying) to see an author embrace a seemingly one-track plot. A good writer is able to spin each story in such a way that, while it will always reflect their own unique style and voice, the story itself is fresh and new.

I think of God as a Master Writer, scripting the days and circumstances of our lives, inscribing our stories page by page. He’s the Master Composer, ordering the “rhythm and rhyme” of our lives as an ode of praise. He is the Potter who shapes our lives for our good and His glory.

While certain themes shine through every story He writes—goodness, mercy, grace, redemption or justice—each one is uniquely different.

Have you ever been tempted to question or wonder what God is doing in your life when you find yourself in difficult circumstances and trying times? Or even perhaps to envy the way God is working in the lives and circumstances of those around you, rather than humbly accepting what the Potter is doing in and with your life (see Jeremiah 18:1-6)?

I have. I’ve been tempted many times, when finding myself in less-than-ideal circumstances, to compare my lot with that of others and to envy God’s plan for and ordering of the lives of those around me.

One morning a couple of months back, feeling burdened and discouraged by the weight of recent trials, I poured my heart out to the Lord about it all. I opened the Word and my attention was drawn to the passages that spoke of giving thanksgiving, honor, worship, and praise to God; of investing our trust in Him because He is good. Not exactly the typical comforting passages you might expect. These precious words comforted by lifting my eyes.

I began to think of the stories of the saints of the Bible as well as the experiences of modern-day saints. No two are exactly the same! God works in such a wide variety of circumstances and ways to accomplish His will in each of His children’s lives.

Look at Hannah. She prayed for a child, and God blessed her with one. Yet many Christian wives through the ages have prayed with the same desperate desire for children and have been told “No.”

Jabez prayed that God would bless him and keep him from harm and pain. God granted His wish. Yet Job was permitted to experience unimaginable grief and pain in his lifetime.

Daniel was saved from the lions’ mouths. But many believers in the early centuries of the church were torn apart and eaten by wild beasts.

Under the reigns of David and Solomon, the saints and prophets rejoiced with gladness and singing. Under the reigns of Ahab and Manasseh, the saints and prophets suffered, and served their God in hard times and discouraging circumstances.

The apostle John lived a long life in service to Christ while Abel’s life was cut off prematurely.

Paul could have been tempted to envy the many believers around him who experienced miraculous, physical healings, while he himself was given a thorn in the flesh and denied its removal.

So many people. So many stories. All of them different.

Had God denied Hannah her wish, or Jabez his, would He still have been good? Would His people have continued to trust in Him? Was God’s work in the lives of Hannah, Daniel, and Jabez better, more kind, or wiser than in the lives of Job, or Jeremiah, or Paul?

According to Hebrews 11 we see that trust in God is not (and cannot be) rooted in our personal circumstances, but rather in the character of a faithful God Who is working in His children that which pleases Him, as He orders our lives for our good and His glory (see Romans 8).

The Word tells us elsewhere: “He is the Rock, His work is perfect: for all His ways are judgment: a God of truth and without iniquity: just and right is He” (Deuteronomy 32:4). The Psalmist reminds us that “The Lord is righteous in all His ways, and holy in all His works” (Psalm 145:17).

In declaring his trust in the Lord, the prophet Habakkuk indicated it was not contingent on any circumstances: “Although the fig tree shall not blossom, neither shall fruit be in the vines; the labour of the olive shall fail, and the fields shall yield no meat; the flock shall be cut off from the fold, and there shall be no herd in the stalls: Yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will joy in the God of my salvation. The Lord God is my strength…” (Habakkuk 3:17-19).

We often see both Old and New Testament saints giving thanks to God even in the middle of painful circumstances. While the personal testimonies and experiences are different, I imagine they would share one common sentiment: God is good.

Photo Credit: Tabitha Alloway

One of my favorite hymns is Day by Day. The first verse goes:

Day by day, and with each passing moment

Strength I find to meet my trials here;

Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment,

I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.

He whose heart is kind beyond all measure

Gives unto each day what He deems best—

Lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure,

Mingling toil with peace and rest.

Some of the most precious portions of Scripture to me are those in which God reveals His own heart of compassion toward His people. It’s the theme that brightens even the darkest story. We’re all familiar with the passage in Lamentations that speaks of the faithfulness, mercy, and compassion of the Lord. Then Jeremiah goes on to say, “But though He cause grief, yet will He have compassion according to the multitude of His mercies. For He doth not afflict willingly nor grieve the children of men”.

God does not cause pain or withhold desire for no good purpose.

Isaiah breaks out in thanksgiving: “I will mention the lovingkindnesses of the Lord, and the praises of the Lord, according to all that the Lord hath bestowed on us…For He said, surely they are my people…In all their affliction He was afflicted…in His love and in His pity He redeemed them…” (Isaiah 63:7-9).

God sorrows in our sorrow; He is afflicted in our affliction. We do not have a High Priest who is insulated from our pain; He experiences it with us and has compassion on our weaknesses.

It is this God of love, kindness, and wisdom who composes my story and your story. Do we trust Him to do what He deems best? Are we content in His provision for and ordering of our life?

The Master Writer is weaving the days and circumstances of our lives into one story for His glory. Every daily page whispers His goodness, and even the darkest chapters are traced with hope, pointing to the beauty of His eternal purpose.

And that eternal purpose hints at the fact that the Author’s story doesn’t end with us, with this life. There is a “happily ever after” that’s already written, just awaiting publication. If you know Jesus, aren’t you looking forward to reading that story?

Had You not granted Hannah’s wish

And given her a child…

Had You let Jabez feel anguish,

Not blessed with life so mild…

Had You not shut the lions’ mouths

When Daniel prayed to You…

Did You not save his friends, when, roused,

A despot gave death cue…

Had solitude been David’s lot

Instead of throne and crown…

Had Jacob not grasped riches sought,

Nor prosperity had found…

Had Hannah lifted empty arms

In worship to Your Name…

Had Jabez met some earthly harm

In showing forth Your fame…

Had Daniel died a martyr’s death

In service to his Lord…

Had fire snatched the faithful’s breath,

And death been their reward…

Had David sung in open fields

Instead of regal courts…

Had flocks and fields returned no yields

While Jacob sought the Source…

Your faithfulness would be the same,

Your goodness ever new,

Your mercy rich exalt Your Name,

And saints would hide in You.

You are the God of grieving Job,

Of joyful, dancing David.

Your ways and works across the globe

Will always be redemptive.

The God of weeping prophets and

The God of singing saints;

All things lie open in Your hand—

From You derive their fate.

You are the source of grace for Paul

When thorn afflicts him sore.

You save the cripple from a fall

And his weak legs restore.

You’re the God of brave queen Esther,

The God of humble Ruth;

To each his lot, Dispenser,

The One Source of all Truth.

In pain and gain, our love and loss

You are the Sovereign One;

You knew real sorrow at the cross

Now-risen, conquering Son.

You walked on earth in mankind’s shoes

You know heart’s deepest throb;

Appointing things as You so choose,

You hear the smallest sob.

You’ve cried and wept with broken heart,

Felt agony of pain;

When on the earth You shared our part,

Your loss became our gain.

To come to You a man must trust

You are the great I AM;

Your works are true and right and just,

And You reward the man.

Your ways are far past finding out,

No finite mind can see

Exactly what you are about—

Your great Eternity.

You are our life, our love, our light,

Our hope, our help, our haven,

Our Rock, Redeemer and our Right—

Praise God of highest heaven!

All Other Ground is Sinking Sand

04 Friday Aug 2017

Posted by Lauren Scott in Living Faith

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Tags

Assurance, God's love, hope, Peace, Reflections, Solid Rock, trials

Upheaval. That seems to be a good word for what I’ve experienced lately.

The landscape of my life seems to always be changing. It’s hard to find a firm footing.

Some good friends of ours moved away a few months ago, and we’re about to bid farewell to another couple of friends within the next several weeks.

Another one of my closest friends may be moving out of state in the near future as well.

We’ve grieved a loss in our extended family this year, and felt the weight of failing health in other precious family members and friends.

We’ve known the despairing sting of futility–in making our own plans and seeing them fall through, no matter how hard we tried to work out the logistics–in gardening, in homeschooling, in trying to get enough sleep, in family visits, and in many other projects and pursuits.

In the same moments that we are (by the grace of God) learning to plan and manage our lives more effectively and efficiently, more responsibilities and cares pile themselves like memorial stones set to remind us that we are not ultimately in control.

And the current state of our home is an analogy for all of the above–our one-room remodel project is stretching into its second month–and, try as I may to ignore the mess and mayhem, a simple walk from the kitchen to the front door brings it screaming to my attention. Because if I don’t survey the landscape and watch my step I might trip over a paint can, run into a stack of boxes, or knock over the bed and box spring leaning against the couch.

This maze of a house we are living in right now is not for the faint of heart.

And neither is life itself.

If I try to stand on the good gifts God has given me in this life–blessed relationships, material possessions, good health, intellect and abilities, position and influence, the experience of all things temporally enjoyable, comforting, and familiar–I will predictably falter when they begin to wane.

My self and my circumstances are ultimately unpredictable and unreliable. They make for a feeble and faulty foundation, indeed.

But I have a Rock, a firm foundation in Christ. Those who hope in Him will not be disappointed.

While mowing this morning I listened to a few chapters from Knowing God by J. I. Packer, finishing with the chapter on adoption into the family of God. It moved me to the core. When I struggle spiritually, when I am tempted to despair, it is most often rooted in a forgetfulness of God’s promises and love for me in Christ Jesus, usually clouded over with self-condemnation and a focus on the temporal things that have me confused, cast-down, and unsatisfied.

I know my sin and my need for a Savior. I know Jesus died to pay the penalty for my sin so that by faith I can be forgiven and escape eternal condemnation, but as Packer so richly reminded me today, Jesus not only purchased my pardon but brought me into the Family. And the love which the Father has had for His Son throughout all eternity is mine now as a child of God.

Justification–having a declared righteousness and peace with God through Christ–is glorious because it brings me to Him. And, as Romans 8 so emphatically reminds me, nothing can separate me from His love.

And beyond the amazing solace that brings me now, how quickly I also forget the hope of glory that is to come–to be in the presence of God, free from sin and death and suffering, but not merely as one who is tolerated in God’s presence, but as one who is loved, welcomed, embraced, and delighted in as a beloved child.

I can’t really begin to express all that this means and its effect on me as I continue to walk the maze in my living room and in the world-at-large. I still slip and fall when, like Peter did on the sea, I look at the storm around me and the unsettling terrain below me.

“Why did you doubt?”

There was nothing in the waves holding Peter up. It was the Lord Jesus Himself. All he needed to do to literally keep his head above water was to look to Jesus and believe.

And I suppose at the end of the day the same goes for me, too.

Would you sing this hymn with me? Let’s declare the truth that our hearts so often forget.

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’ blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

His oath, His covenant, His blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found;
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand,
All other ground is sinking sand.

My Cross to Bear

09 Monday Nov 2015

Posted by Lauren Scott in Living Faith

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Tags

Cancer, devotional, discipleship, disease, Elisabeth Elliot, home church, insomnia, my cross to bear, trials

“So you want me to use this turkey meat, but what seasonings do I add to it to make it into sausage?” my sweet husband called up to me as I was closing my Bible and about to make the bed.

“Uh…” I said out loud with wide eyes, thinking, I never measure the herbs and spices, if I try to tell him a guess as to how much to put in, it’ll be more than my brain can handle this early in the morning and he won’t know where to find half of the spices anyway… “How about I come do that for you?”

A few minutes later I was dressed and downstairs, and he had the ground turkey already beginning to sizzle in the pan.

It was Sunday morning and we were getting ready for church. My disposition was remarkably cheerful this week. Sunday mornings can be the most stressful time of the week when you’ve got two small children to get ready, a meal to prepare, toys to pack, Bibles to load—and if you’re homeschoolers, it’s also the only day of the week that you actually have to be out the door by a specific time. Having a history of emotional Sunday mornings is part of what inspired my husband to take over the breakfast prep for me several years ago. Usually it involves pancakes or waffles, but this week it was sausage. Either way, having such a servant-hearted man is an incredible blessing.

But on this Sunday I may have been particularly happy because instead of having to make lunch to bring along with us, I had bought a frozen lasagna the day before and all I had to do was pull it out of the freezer and take it along to our friends’ house. (Who says you can’t ever buy peace of mind?)

Anyway, I’d just pop it in the oven at our friends’ house. Yes, that’s where we were headed. For church.

You see, we are a part of a small fellowship that meets in homes. This week church happened to be at a house only ten minutes down the road from us (perhaps another reason for the minimal stress of our morning). Other than the three year old coming downstairs in a white polo shirt and having to be instructed to wear something different (because I could do the math in my head: White Shirt + Lasagna = Disaster), getting ready and out the door was pretty smooth sailing.

The boys hopped in the van, I buckled up the three-year-old, my husband grabbed his guitar, threw it in the back, and we were set. We got in our seats, closed the doors, looked at the clock, looked at each other, and thought, “We’re early!”

Yes, indeed. It wasn’t yet 9:45 and we only had a ten minute drive to make. Sure, we’d like to have left sooner (maybe one day we’ll get there), and 9:55 is hardly early when the meeting is supposed to start at 10am, but this was progress, and progress is worth celebrating.

To our surprise, as we pulled into the rocky driveway ten minutes later, we found the parking area in the back of the house already full of vehicles. Apparently we were not so very early after all. Oh, well. At least all I had to do when we got inside was turn on the oven and sit down on the couch.

Nathaniel found a chair and set up his guitar while the boys and I found a place on a couch next to my sister-in-law. After singing praises and scripture songs, my father-in-law taught from Mark chapter 8. I was quite tired and admittedly had a hard time paying attention to the first section of verses he covered, but then I woke up a bit when he got to Jesus’ call of discipleship at the end of the chapter.

“Many Christians like to borrow this metaphor of taking up our cross and apply it to trials, saying ‘This trial—whether it be cancer or loss of a loved one—is my cross to bear.’ But that isn’t what Jesus is talking about. Those trials are involuntary—they happen to you. Jesus is making a call to His followers to do something voluntary—to deny themselves and take up their cross and follow Him. Even those who don’t follow Jesus experience trials like illness and loss. Those things are common to life, and certainly there are instructions for us in scripture about those things, but here Jesus calls us to deny ourselves for His sake—to be willing to endure whatever loss comes, not as a result of being human, but as a result of following Christ.”

I mulled over these words, trying to mesh this understanding with my own physical trials—a pregnancy related autoimmune disease and issues that accompany both it and its treatment—even as we moved on to another teaching, and then prayer and singing. After the meeting ended, we enjoyed some good discussion on the subject during lunch, fleshing out what “taking up our cross” might look like—living in obedience to Jesus even when it brings persecution or ridicule, loving Jesus more than this life even though our neighbors might think we’re lunatics, loving the lowly like Jesus did, spending time with them rather than seeking self-promotion and pridefully distancing ourselves from the needy. Our time of fellowship lingered into the evening before we all went home to prepare for the work week ahead.

That night I couldn’t sleep. As often happens when I so desperately need some shut-eye, my mind kept wandering to lesson plans and books and other nerdy and exciting things. Then I began to think again about Jesus’ words in Mark 8. “If anyone will deny himself and take up his cross and follow me…” And then I thought about my father-in-law’s comment that taking up our cross is not an involuntary thing, but a voluntary thing. Despite the practical application we had hashed out over lunch, I still wondered about its application to my trials. So if it’s not the disease and pain that’s my cross to bear, I thought, What is it?

I nudged Nathaniel, who was not quite asleep yet. “You know how your dad said that taking up our cross isn’t an involuntary thing like cancer?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I was just thinking about it some more, and I still have a lot of questions. But I was thinking: Okay, so maybe my disease and whatever pain or other symptoms it causes aren’t my cross to bear, but maybe my choosing to joyfully serve others, to serve the Lord, in the face of that pain would be.”

“That sounds about right. I think that’d be a pretty good application of it.”

“I guess I’d be denying myself the ‘privilege’ of feeling sorry for myself or grumbling, choosing to be joyful instead. And not just for my sake. But for others.”

Nathaniel agreed.

After a pause I lamented, “That’s pretty convicting. That’s not what I usually do.”

We said our goodnights and my sweet, sleepy sounding-board husband drifted off as I lay contemplating this concept in light of the countless believers whose lives I have admired, and in light of Christ’s example. The people I have most looked up to for their faith and strength are those who have joyfully served others despite great physical pain, setbacks, and trials. The Lord Himself laid down His privileges, just in becoming a man! But even more so when He took upon Himself the wrath of God and the pain of public scorn and crucifixion, all the while praying, “Father, forgive them.” The cross wasn’t a hindrance to God’s plan, but the vehicle through which He would bring blessing to the whole world.

From what I can tell, my physical limitations and pains, should the Lord continue to choose not remove them, will be with me in this life whether I embrace them or not. So the ball is in my court: Will I shirk responsibility to respond joyfully and choose to grumble instead? Or will I take up the cross of humble surrender to the Lord’s will, seeking to rejoice in every circumstance and persevere in service to God and to others? On one side is a life of pain and inner turmoil with it. On the other is a life of pain overcome by the grace of God. One choice leads to bitterness and condemnation, the other to eternal joy and glory.

I let out a deep sigh, a kind of physical surrender to the supernatural peace of God that comes when at last we say, “Ok, I trust You.” And finally, too, a few moments later, I surrendered myself to restful sleep.

Here is what I read that evening from Elisabeth Elliot’s devotional, “Keep a Quiet Heart”, that prompted my late-night thoughts on this subject of taking up my cross. God is very kind to ordain even my reading schedule for His purposes and my benefit.

“The worst pains we experience are not those of the suffering itself but of our stubborn resistance to it, our resolute insistence on our independence. To be ‘crucified with Christ’ means what Oswald Chambers calls ‘breaking the husk’ of that independence. ‘Has that break come?’ he asks. ‘All the rest is pious fraud.’ And you and I know, in our heart of hearts, that the sword-thrust (so typical of Chambers!) is the straight truth.

If we reject this cross, we will not find it in this world again. Here is the opportunity offered. Be patient. Wait on the Lord for whatever He appoints, wait quietly, wait trustingly. He holds every minute of every hour of every day of every week of every month of every year in His hands. Thank Him in advance for what the future holds, for He is already there. ‘Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup’ (Psalm 16:5, NIV). Shall we not gladly say, ‘I’ll take it, Lord! YES! I’ll trust you for everything. Bless the Lord, O my soul!’”

~In the essay entitled Maybe this Year, page 51

I’ve many a cross to take up now,

And many left behind;

But present troubles move me not,

Nor shake my quiet mind.

And what may be to-morrow’s cross

I never seek to find;

My Father says, “Leave that to me,

And keep a quiet mind.”

~Poem by an anonymous author, page 52

“For those of us who are not at the moment in pain, may we not let slip any cross Jesus may present to us, any little way of letting go of ourselves, any smallest task to do with gladness and humility, any disappointment accepted with grace and silence. These are His appointments. If we miss them here, we’ll not find them again in this world or in any other.”

~ In the essay entitled Love’s Sacrifice Leads to Joy, page 68

Kept and Keeping

~ Rest in Grace, Labor in Love

Tag Archives: trials

When the World Breaks

Contentment Doesn’t Grow in a Vacuum

Learning Contentment through Giving Thanks in All Circumstances

Learning Contentment through Trials

Learning Contentment through Fasting

Learning Contentment through Putting Others First; “Put off” and “Put on”

Learning Contentment through “Roughing It” a Bit

Learning Contentment through Christian Biography

Contentment Isn’t Learned in a Vacuum

Homemaker’s Journal: Things Fall Apart (Spring 2024)

No Story is the Same, No Pain Ever Wasted

All Other Ground is Sinking Sand

My Cross to Bear

Here is what I read that evening from Elisabeth Elliot’s devotional, “Keep a Quiet Heart”, that prompted my late-night thoughts on this subject of taking up my cross. God is very kind to ordain even my reading schedule for His purposes and my benefit.

~In the essay entitled Maybe this Year, page 51

I’ve many a cross to take up now,

And many left behind;

But present troubles move me not,

Nor shake my quiet mind.

And what may be to-morrow’s cross

I never seek to find;

My Father says, “Leave that to me,

And keep a quiet mind.”

~Poem by an anonymous author, page 52

~ In the essay entitled Love’s Sacrifice Leads to Joy, page 68