Debris by Amy Jung, Mormon Row/Grand Tetons/Wyoming

Weeding and yearning for it to be done for good this year, I pick what seems to be the last, living clematis in my front flower bed. It’s a day that needs beauty, and a single, white, fragile flower seems perfect.

Beauty seemingly unstained by the world, yet destined to succumb to decay surely by tomorrow morning.

My thoughts may seem a bit dark to you if you’re in a good place. These are some thoughts from my journaling about a month ago over the course of a week. It seemed to be a week inundated with brokenness and death.

Back to the journal…

All around me, I see fall settling in. Each day I see more and more of the dull amber of decaying leaves carpeting what was once a robust green lawn. What was vibrant is now colorless.

And I face telling my daughter that her beloved kitten has died today.

I face the possibility that the other two cats could get this virus.

(It turns out they do have it…)

I enter the last weekend with my family before a new and mysterious season begins. Next week, a teen will be dropped off at our house on her 18th birthday to stay for a while. I don’t yet know this girl, but I do know it will not be a day of celebration. It will, in fact, be another day of trauma on top of many others she has endured in her life.

                                            Broken Home by Amy Jung, Mormon Row/Grand Tetons/Wyoming

I continue to reel over the decline of a cherished friendship that seems oddly irreconcilable.

I haven’t mentioned what’s on the news this week…

Decaying physical and relational life all around me. How am I to go forward? How will I model abundant life to my children when I feel so weighed down in the midst of death, decay, and brokenness?

I will remind myself and them that…

“God is rescuing us from all this.”

The above, simple sentence was uttered to me by a pastor about fifteen years ago and continues to come to mind at times like this. I say them to myself and to others when it seems no words are available for the loss or sadness being endured. Perhaps that’s exactly the situation my pastor had found himself in. No words for the horror I’d witnessed. It was a brush with death at the printing company I worked at. I comforted a young woman who had a horrific industrial accident. It was one of the most terrifying moments I’ve ever shared with another human being.

As I grappled with reality vs. my faith, the seven words my pastor said are the seven, stumbling words I comfort my daughter with as she cries herself to sleep.

“God is rescuing us from all this.”

It’s the admittance that things aren’t the way they should be. It’s really bad, actually. There is hope for now and hope for the future, though.

That one day…“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

And that….

“The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Romans 8:18).

And even though those truths are about our future hope, right now—RIGHT NOW we have a God who has experienced what we have and has compassion on us. He understands what it feels like to have his heart ripped out of his chest. To feel vulnerable in a mad world. 

“Since then we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need” (Hebrews 4:14-16).

“Grace is not simply leniency when we have sinned. Grace is the enabling gift and power of God not to sin. Grace is power, not just pardon.” -John Piper

That throne of grace isn’t just a throne I approach to receive pardon. It’s a throne I approach to receive power. We receive empowerment to endure the darkness of death and the strength to stand against the temptation to sin. Grace to help us in our time of need.

And finally—when we’re ready to hear it again…I will remind us to do this:

“Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!  Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.  And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus”            (Philippians 4:6-7).

I’ll teach my kids that just because we’re being rescued from this, doesn’t mean we don’t care about this world or the people in it. We will keep living and loving as we are called to. We’ll tend to our wounds and to the wounds of others. We’ll allow our own wounds to be tended to by each other and by others.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God” (2 Corinthians 3-4).

I look at the flower, it is wilted the morning after it’s been picked. The reminder that beauty can be found in the brokenness is faded now.

I will go out today and find more beauty in the broken world.

Have you seen anything beautiful today that encourages your soul?

Linking up this week with these lovely bloggers: