My Wedding Day.

I don't often write about being single.  Mostly because while my "singleness" is a part of my life, it's simply not the main focus of my life or ministry. For today, however, I am choosing to talk about it.  But this post is for everyone, so if you're not single, I hope you'll stick around.

I have an amazing, fulfilling life. I am surrounded by the most incredible and devoted Godly men and women who challenge me, love me, bless me, minister to me, and just generally "put up" with me every day. My community is deep and wide with family and friends. Moments of loneliness do come, but they are rare and usually short-lived. It wasn’t always that way, but God has transformed my heart over the years to bring me to this place.

Yet even with a fulfilled life, there is a very short list of things that occasionally make me “feel” single. One of those things is coming home from a trip to a quiet, empty house, with no one there to hug me and tell me I was missed. I don’t love that part of being single.

The other is being sick, and this is probably when I "feel" it the most.  I really struggle emotionally and spiritually with being alone when I'm not well.  No one to hold my hand and tell me it's going to be OK, pray over me, drive me to the doctor, or bring me soup and meds. Several months ago, while driving myself to the emergency room, I lost it. In a feverish panic, crying out, “God, I’m going to die alone!” Oh, the melodrama of a single Italian woman with a fever!

And then came October 17, 2011.

October.  My favorite month of the year. I love the crisp air, the colors, the sound of the leaves blowing, and the promise of the harvest.  In fact, I've often said that if God called me to marriage, I would want an October wedding. 

On this beautiful day in October, though, sickness would enter my life in a way I'd never known before.  This wasn’t the flu. This was no sinus infection. This wasn’t going to be me driving myself to the store to get my own OJ and cold meds. This was way bigger than that.

About an hour after I got the news, I was driving across town to my parents’ house to tell them. That hour had been a whirlwind of information overload and emotional chaos. And as the surreal became real…

Oh my God. I have cancer. And I’m single.

I immediately started to pray, and I remember my exact words.

OK, God, this is going to be a weak area for me spiritually, so I need you to perfect my weakness in your strength. Like right now. Set me like a seal upon your heart.

From that moment on, as tough as this road has been, not for one day have I felt single or alone in this journey. Not for one second. His presence has been felt at every step. He is faithful.

I have also been lavished with love and the presence of my community. Each of my former pastors have visited me at the hospital and at home, my family has been present with me for all of it, and my friends have been present with meals and companionship. Since then, I have continually thanked and praised Him for filling loneliness with the prayers and presence of my community.

But God would show me something unexpected about my heart. He would show me that as wonderful as my community is, they are not the reason that I have never felt alone in this crazy ride through cancer.

Recently I was focusing on verses that I’ve read a hundred times before, and the familiar words jumped out at me in a new way .

Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the wilderness and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope...“In that day,” declares the Lord, “you will call me ‘my husband’; you will no longer call me ‘my master’ … I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion. I will betroth you in faithfulness, and you will acknowledge the Lord" (Hosea 2:14-15, 19-20, NIV).

Upon reading those words, He captivated me with new truth. How had I missed it before?  I haven't felt single through this journey because quite possibly for the first time in my life, I have allowed Him to be my Husband. And just as that realization began to penetrate my heart, he allowed me to recall the prayer I prayed in my car two months before on that dark day in October…

Set me like a seal upon your heart, like a seal on your arm… (Song of Solomon 8:6)

His wedding vow had long before been spoken.  But mine was spoken in the car that day when I prayed… Set me like a seal upon your heart.  And I meant it.  From that point on through this journey, I finally allowed Him to be the Husband that He always was. 

I don't know why I was surprised by this.  After all, 2011 was the year of Dreams, right?  And He has been courting me all along. Just months before in Africa, He promised that He wouldn’t relent until He had my whole heart. I was being prepared for my dream of an October wedding and didn’t even know it. 

October 17th was the day I found out I had cancer.  But that day was about so much more than that. 

October 17th was my wedding day. 

2012: Praise.

For the past two years, God has given me a word for the year. 2010 was Breakthrough, 2011 was Dreams.

One night this past November, as I was in excruciating pain and had been bedridden for weeks, I heard the word for 2012.

Praise… 2012 is going to be all about Praise.

That’s such a God thing to do, isn’t it. Seriously? To give me a word like praise on a night like that. I tried to talk him out of it for a couple of weeks months, trying to convince Him that we could focus on praise later.

God, you can raise me like a victory banner on a battlefield, you can allow me to multiply your Kingdom and you can give me a melodious voice to proclaim your majesty. I want you to do that. But for now, God, can you please just let me weep? Can you just let me grieve for a minute? Can you stop time and just stay with me for a while while I catch my breath?

He did.

And since that time, He’s been faithfully showing me that the scars on my body and on my heart are unexpected pathways to joy. I’m learning to trust Him in a brand new way.

But that’s not the whole story. I tried to think of beautiful words that I could post about the year of Praise, to convince you that I have it all together. To convince you that I am as strong as so many of you tell me I am. The fact that so many of you have written to me and shared that I inspire you to a greater faith just makes me chuckle. Because my faith has been so intermittent through this journey. If you only knew.

The truth? The praise that I have for God’s miraculous healing of my body from cancer is quite possibly the highest praise I have ever brought to God. I feel a depth of gratitude and utter thankfulness that I don’t have never experienced before. I can’t lift my hands high enough or sing loudly enough to reach the level of praise that my heart has for Him. 

But here’s the thing. It coexists with a deeper sense of suffering…and fear… that I have ever experienced in my lifetime. A heart cry for further healing from the pain, the horrible swelling (lymphedema), and the deformity of my body. A grief that goes deeper than I can describe, and that I am ashamed to admit in light of the amazing blessings revealed in this journey. Yet I can’t bow low enough or cry deeply enough to convey the level of pain and fear that I feel.

What is wrong with me? I have been wondering how the high and the low can coexist, and asking God to show me what it is about Him that I don’t trust. Trying so hard to “do it better”, to be more “holy”. Surely, those two things shouldn’t exist at the same time if I’m a “good Christian”, right?

And as I seek and pray for wisdom and peace, I keep coming back to Jesus’ agony in The Garden. (See my last post.)

There, in the Word and in The Garden, I find Truth.

Jesus asked God for the cup of suffering to be taken from Him if it were God’s will. He was in so much anguish that His body released bloody sweat. I believe that He was afraid. He longed to please His Father, and He would have done (and did) everything God ever asked of Him. Yet His fear and His faith were both present in the Garden that night.

There is a very powerful Truth present here.  The very place from which a few weeks later He would ascend to Heaven was the place He now cried.  And we are told in His Word that to this place, one day He will return (Zechariah 14:9).  

And guess what else? God could have resurrected Him with a perfect body. But He didn’t. Jesus arose fully restored except for one thing… His scars. So everyone would know who He is.

So whether I “feel” it or not, I choose to praise Him, no matter what.

Because I know that the very place that I find myself broken now is the very place from which one day soon, I too will arise. And my scars will ensure that everyone knows who He is.

So with gritted teeth, a lump in my throat, a tear-streaked face, and a heart full of hope…

I praise. 

Because He is faithful. Because He is grace. Because He is love.

Because He is worthy.

Hallelujah.

After He Was Strengthened.

I wonder what the angel said.

We aren’t specifically told that the angel was Gabriel, the same angel that told Mary she would give birth to the Son of God, but I like to think that it was.

I imagine the passion of a father racing across town to be with his son in the emergency room.

God, sending His angel Gabriel, to Gethsemane.

“Hey, Gabriel, 34 years ago I sent you to tell Mary that she, a virgin, would give birth to Jesus, the King of Kings. Now, I send you to earth again. Go to him, He's in the Garden. Hurry. My Son is crying.”

I wonder what he said to Jesus. Well, we will never know for sure, because the Bible is silent about it. But we know whatever it was, it strengthened Him.

Jesus went out as usual to the Mount of Olives, and his disciples followed him. On reaching the place, he said to them, “Pray that you will not fall into temptation.” He withdrew about a stone’s throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. (Luke 22: 39-44, NIV)

Wouldn’t you think that after Jesus was strengthened, He would have quickly dried his eyes, offered a brave smile, and passionately resumed His mission? But it didn’t happen that way. Before He rose from the anguish, He cried even harder.  So hard, in fact, that His own sweat turned bloody. This happened after He was strengthened.

My Jesus, after receiving encouragement, prayed even more earnestly and cried harder.

Me too, Jesus. Me too. 

Perhaps we're meant to learn that the richest hope permits the deepest suffering...

Perhaps we’re meant to learn that the deepest suffering releases the strongest power...

Perhaps we’re meant to learn that the strongest power produces the greatest joy.

In the deepest part of my soul, I long more than anything to live in the fullness of His power alive in me, and to further His Kingdom.  But for tonight, from my personal garden, with a strengthened heart, I cry out even harder to Jesus:

My God, My Jesus, bind up my wounds, erase my fears, and deliver me from disease and pain.  Breathe life into my dry and tired bones.  But not before you teach me how to die, Lord.  Not before you teach me how to die.