Walk In.

As the priest, the Levites, and the people of Israel approached the Jordan, they were instructed to "walk in." They were not instructed to wait, or wonder, or measure the water or depth or implications of the rapids or yield of its wake. They were instructed to "walk in" (Joshua 3).

As we live and work and gather promised lands and see and take companionship in desert lands, we too are instructed to "walk in."

There are times to wait, to wonder, to analyze. There are times to do things such as these.

But there are times to "walk in."

What things looks like this week, this day, is to "walk in" with my friends and "walk in" with their pain, their grief, their wounds, their damage. Their questions, the gruntings, their stirrings, their sadness. Their lives. It means to walk in. To not wait, to not question, to not wonder. To consider implications, but to simply, do that: walk in the river with them.

As I look at my own days, my own weeks, my own months that lay in the past and ahead, I also see and cherish those who most deeply have chosen to "walk in" with me. Who have not regarded their own cost of what it would mean to truly walk with me through the depths of all of this, or to peg me as 'too much' or 'crazy' or 'one more call/conversation' but who pick up the phone, who call, who send e-mails, who simply listen. Who gather themselves on the other end of the phone or the other end of the conversation, and just take the rapids. Who say enough to let me know they know what is being said, and let me know that the pain of me does not go unnoticed or uncared for, but who also say not words that simply are words or explanations or stories. Who simply enter in and walk in the river with me.

As I walk these roads, these dirt paths, these desert plains, and as I come across the Jordans, I am ever in the clutch of these remarkable friends. And, as they too walk and enter the deserts, and find the intensity of the Jordans, may I also not wait or label or question or wonder or watch, but walk in with them.

PS: And, God parted the water. The priest walked in, gathered the wetness of their feet and cloaks and walked in, obedience marching their water-logged steps. And then God in His faithfulness parted the seas, and widened the walls of the river to make way for the walking on dry ground. Let us all be water-walkers, and watch as we wait with bold faith and expectation for God to hold back the roar of the water.

Trials and Tribulations.

All I can think now is these days preclude the End of Times. When I think of all of the things my dearest loved ones are going through and what has happened the last few days, weeks, months, it seems to all point to the End of Times.

I see family turned away from family, breakings of marriages, continual deaths, and coarse friendships where Christ has been supreme. And it seems like the attack of Satan, and only Satan, that could bring such intensity and depth and pain. And also such manipulation and deceitfulness to break apart these families and spouses and friendships, specifically. It is the result of sin and those powers against us. We stand at the gates of hell. Some days, I just, we just, stand there, tormented. Other days, we storm hell's doors.

As I cover the people in love in prayer, I beckon these words:

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." II Corinthians 4:8-10.

We acknowledge the hurts, the pains, the angers, the sadness, the grief. But we also acknowledge the weight that Christ will and does continue to conquer the grave.

Jesus Christ has the victory. He always will, he always does. Let us look at our lives and label things as we see them through spiritual eyes, and keep maintaining that Christ will have the victory, not the deceit and lies and beatings of Satan.

Bold Love.

I'm reading sections of this book Bold Love by Dan Allender, as recommended by several highly respected adults in my life. A couple of things stand out to me enough to share with you:

"We are lovers in a dangerous time. Nothing worth having comes without some kind of fight. We have to kick at the darkness until it bleeds daylight." Quote by Bruce Cochburn.

"I will not live with purpose and joy unless I love; I will not be able to love unless I forgive; and I will not forgive unless my hatred is continually melted by the searing truth and grace of the gospel." p.30

"Most people would rather accept evil as the daily menu than be pronounced orphan and barred from reentering the parental garden. Evil will push us to see if we will bear loss, shame, and hatred. If we are not prepared for the attack, we will wilt under the seduction and mockery of evil. The preparation we must undergo is training in righteousness, where our senses aligned with truth and our hearts have been strengthened by discipline (Hebrews 12:1-12)." p.245

"Parameters must be set... A parameter (or boundary) is any line in human relations that honors separateness and respects individual dignity... Honoring parameters is a reflection of righteousness, or right living in relationships. We honor parameters when we experience the consequences of violating them. A consequence is a warning and/or a small dose of pain that alters others to the violation of love. The consequence, like discipline, is therefore a merciful gift of discomfort, pain, or loss that invites the offender to deal with his harm..." p.245

"Without a doubt, the [person/people] has spread vicious, uncontested lies about you to those who know you. You will be called judgemental, holier-than-thou, arrogant, unbiblical, cruel, heartless. Others will often be watching to see if the [person/people] is correct. It is not your responsibility to counter every lie, but a life that is full of joy and sorrow, tenderness and strength, and brokenness and boldness will discount at least some of the virulent untruths and half-truths told about you." p.253

Take Care Of Me.

So if I really want to be honest, which I do, but sometimes don't get quiet this intimate or go quite this far unless it is in the openness and trust of my deepest, greatest friends... I'd say I just want someone to take care of me right now.

I want someone to care about how much I'm hurting. To care about having a meal for me that I don't have to think about. To care about fixing my car since they know I hate to do it. To take care of driving with me to and from my two different worlds. To take care of me by being and sitting next to me as I go through this all this May. To care about giving me a hug when its really, all I really need some days. To care about watching the cash in my wallet. To care about the nights I can't sleep. To take care to create necessary but hard & forward & blunt dialogues and conversations, to say what needs to be said in protection of me. To take care to come next to me like a protector, an encasement, a batter with a bat. To care about listening, even when the things only really matter to me.

I have great, wonderful people in my life. No question there. I love them all. But there are so many days, I just really want someone in this way, to take care of me. :(

Survival Mode.

If you ask me what I've eaten in the last ten months, I wouldn't know. Or in the last week, I'd stare at your profoundly blank. Because I don't know. I know I've eaten. A lot, actually. I'm good at watching to be aware and disciplined about at least that factor. But as for the content, I am oblivious. I have no idea what touches my mouth, or where/what my next meal will be. More often than not, the last two weeks have landed me in disgusting drive-thrus or quick meal-time grocery stop dives for a Lean Cuisine. And the food is just simply inserted. A means to an end. A means of survival.

A friend told me this week that in crisis mode or times of extensive stress, one side of the brain takes over the rest, and the body simply forces itself into survival mode. It blocks out a lot of extra information, energy, and efforts are not deemed necessary to get through the immediate pattern of life.

So, taking that into consideration, I guess it explains these "meals" of soup-on-the-go, McDoubles on the fly, and banana peels piled on my passenger seat.

Survival mode it is.

Survive, I will do.

Slipperly Slope.

They say sometimes grief is like three steps forward, one step back.

Instead, I feel like it's one step forward, three steps back sometimes.

I was doing so good. January had felt like, in general, a lift in my spirit, the beginning of a new horizon.

But then February came last week.

And the mudslide let loose.

I fell apart for two days, then did okay for two, and then got glomped on with the mud that took days to come down the slope today. I'm mentally picturing my life right now like a mud slide, and I'm climbing the mountain, trying with all my might, but the rocks and slippery slope just keep coming and unclamping my hands off anything I could find to grab on to.

This grief, this grief, is a mudslide and a slippery slope sometimes.

Unposted Status'.

Sometimes I want to put things on my Facebook status that say things like:

... how much does it cost to get a new last name....?

OR

... hey, anybody related to me out there?...

Yeah, sarcasm, and a lot of hurt... eventually, it will subside... And, don't worry, I don't post things like this for a reason... There is enough hurt going on around for all of us...