All Sufficient Grace

Lately, I've been thinking about there past. Reading old blogs and pondering who and what I used to be. Because I'm not the same girl I was a year ago. Not just because of July 9th, but because of every battle, every victory after.
When it first happened, I wanted to thrust everything back to normal. Normal services, normal treatment, normal family time. But...it couldn't really work that way. I mean, not only mine, but many people's lives were shaken sideways and upside down that night. Pieces were broken and torn. There was no going back to the way things used to be. "Normal" wasn't what it used to be. So, I began looking for a new normal.
But...how? How could I feel joy and peace and especially security after having my life fall apart like that?
Lots of prayer. Lots of faith. And lots of time.
I learned patience. There's never a quick fix, or at least a permanent quick fix. Good things come to those who wait. The book of Psalm says over and over again "Wait patiently for the LORD." This generation screams NOW! It needs a quick solution, an easy answer. But there wasn't one. Finding a new normal, a new lifestyle, it took time. I cried, I shook my fists, I easily despaired. But I made it. I'm here. I couldn't believe it at the time, but life has gotten easier, the pain has lessened, and the emotions are less frequent and more controllable.
I also learned a lot about grace. God's amazing grace. The word itself always infatuated me because my middle name is Grace. When I was little, I was especially proud of that fact. But now, I have a new understanding and appreciation for it's true meaning.
The first few months, I tried to be strong. I would feel the emotions coming on and I would swallow them back and raise my head high. I could do this, I could keep it together. I didn't want to be a bother to anyone, especially my mom. She had gone through enough, I didn't want to burden her any more than she already was.
I quickly learned that the only thing worse than feeling hopeless and broken and lonely, is not feeling anything at all.
I quit feeling. Quit living and thus quit loving life. I went into auto pilot, smiling through the days and crying through the nights. It reminds me of the movie Frozen: "Conceal, don't feel! Don't let them know!"
It wasn't long before I learned that I couldn't live like that. This week even, I read 2 Corinthians 12:8-10: "8 Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. 9 But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. 10 That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong." I have learned, and am continually learning, that I wasn't made to be strong. I was created to rely on a strong God. When I try to do it on my own, I am incomplete, I fall short and fail. But when I submit to Christ in my weakness, only then can I be made whole. That's my purpose. Not be strong and independent like the world teaches. But to be weak and submissive to Christ. Only then do I find fulfillment and peace.
His grace is sufficient! It's enough! That truth consumes me and fills the voids of weakness and doubt in my life. I will constantly fall short, but Christ has covered all.

The Body of Christ

The body of Christ.

What's the first thing that popped into your head when you read that? Was it that passage in the Bible about Christ being the head and us the parts? Was it a particular person? Was it negative or positive? Was it your church? 

I think a lot of people misunderstand that phrase. I don't think I even fully understand that phrase. But let me share a few things that phrase has come to mean to me.

Firstly, the body of Christ is obviously the church. And as my church family has stressed to me over and over (and over) again, the church is not a building. The church is the people. And my church has come to mean the world to me.

In years past, Sunday morning and Wednesday nights were fun, a time to hang out with my friends. If my mom went, I went. If mom had to stay home, I stayed home. Now, it's so much more. Since Dad has died, church is where I feel safe. My church is part of my family. I'm not only grateful that they were there when I needed them, but they are still here for me even when I don't. When tragedy hit, they were there. And when my family and I struggled to get to our feet, they didn't leave! In the past, multiple men in the church have taken Jonathan hunting or just been with him for hours at a time. I can't begin to explain how much that means to my mom. I mean, the boy lives in a house full of women. He's got to learn to "man up" somehow! 

Another time, my sister posted on Facebook that she needed to get away. Within minutes, someone was in the driveway ready to whisk her away.

For me personally, I miss Dad's attention. That sounds selfish, but I miss having a man in my life. A lot. And you may wonder how the church could possibly fill that gap in my life, but between them and the Lord, they have. They have literally held me when I cried and covered me with prayer when I was certain all was lost. Some weeks, my heart aches for him more than anything, and somehow they know I need that extra encouragement. Even today, the men in my church had the patience (can I get an amen?) to teach me archery. I'm just astounded. Blown away by God's faithfulness through the lives and love of my church.

Then there's the body of Christ outside my church. The body of Christ is never confined to just the names of the people on my church's membership list. Example? My homeschool group. All weekend I have gotten to spend time with them and their families. We compete, we smack talk, we wrestle, we have ridiculous conversations; but it's all encouraging. It all blesses me. I feel safe, I feel loved. I have never before realized how much I value those two things. 

Another thing about the body of Christ, is the fact that through their love and care and devotion, they are pouring into my life. My cup is overflowing. And when your cup overflows, God doesn't want you to hoard it, he wants you to pour that overflow into other people. And that's the best part! Because of my pain and my trials and the love of the body, I get to love on other people that are struggling more than I am! Like 2 Corinthians 8:2 says: "Out of the most severe trial, their overflowing joy and extreme poverty welled up in rich generosity." God doesn't bless his children so that they can be "hoarders". He blesses them that they may bless others. 

THIS is the true body of Christ.