Grace | All is Well

Keep Your Soul, Dilgently

October 24, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

I can sense when it happens. Most of the time, anyway.

Sometimes I miss it, until it suddenly dawns on me and I find myself scratching my head, a bit bewildered and asking myself, “Well, how the heck did I get here, yet again?”

But, most of the time, I can sense it.

It’s that slow slide away from what I know my mind and soul needs, in order to stay well. And focused. A gradual stepping away from that which keeps my soul focused on the only hope we know in this world. A letting down of my guard. A falling away from the spiritual and physical disciplines that stave off despair and, if I were to be honest, the shadowy, bony fingers of depression.

However, just because I sense it, doesn’t always mean that I take the necessary steps to arrest the spiral.

Maybe, just maybe, you can relate.

In the last couple of months, I have sensed this in my own mind and soul. I’ve tried to ignore it. I’ve brushed it off, because truly, life is good. There is no reason for the nagging discouragement and despair creeping into my mind. There isn’t. Not in the grand scheme of things.

But this is a battle that I have fought for a very long time. A very long time.

And, I know better, than to let my guard down.

I know better, than to shortcut the things I know help fight this battle:

Early morning study and prayer
Personal and corporate worship
Exercise
Healthy food choices
Routine, routine, routine
Caring well for others
Writing
Reading

When I shortchange these areas–when I convince myself that its “Ok” to stray from my daily routine, when I “excuse” myself from prayer and study early in the morning, when I decided that it won’t hurt anything to “skip” exercise for a day…..

…..that’s when despair raises its ugly head, once again.

And once despair gains even a small handhold, it’s grip is tight. And difficult to shake.

And that’s when my old friend and old nemesis of doubt sets back in.

I call it my “old friend”…not because doubt is a true friend, but because it is familiar. Comfortable. You’ve heard of people who say “We hadn’t seen each other in 10 years, but we picked up right where we left off, as if we just saw each other yesterday!” Yes. That is what “doubt” is, in my life.

Familiar. Comfortable, like a worn out security blanket.

But here’s the thing—doubt is also my dreadful nemesis….and when I don’t fight it, it penetrates my thoughts, starting off slowly, but quickly gathering speed.

I can go from “But why….” to full-fledged doubt of not only God’s love, but His very existence, in less than 60 seconds.

Earlier this evening, while sitting on outside on my deck, watching the first leaves of fall drifting down around me, I recognized that my soul, too, is in a season of fall. And I must fight, to stop its progression to the cold cynicism of winter.

This is not a new problem. It is not new to me, for sure. And it is not new to mankind. In Deuteronomy 4, we see Moses imploring with the Israelites to keep their souls and to remember all that they had seen the Lord do for them. And to their enemies. Moses reminded the people that they were in a covenant relationship with God, called to obedience. They were to remember, and teach their children…and their children’s children…all that the Lord had done.

9 “Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children’s children— (Deut. 4:9)

Do you see, though? Moses didn’t say “remember the things that God has done, in order to keep your soul diligently.

No, it was the other way around.

You may think that this is a trivial, minor, unimportant distinction. However, I do not. I think it is significant.

Because, when I do not keep my soul diligently, I arrogantly forget all that God has done for me.

When I do not keep my soul diligently through regular spiritual and physical disciplines, including study, and prayer, , and worship, and exercise, and rest, and caring well for others through service–when I do not keep my soul in those ways, then I slowly slide towards the erroneous belief that I don’t need God. I sinfully step closer to the edge of doubt and cynicism, thus forgetting the miraculous things I have witnessed as God’s adopted child–and that adoption via salvation being the most miraculous of all the many good and gracious and merciful things He has poured out on my soul and life.

And when I forget those things–and when I stand arrogantly in defiance and stomp my feet like a petulant two-year-old and say “I won’t!” or “I don’t want to pray!” or “I’m too tired!” or “But I don’t sense You, God, so why try?”—

–that’s when despair wins the first battle.

But this is a war. And defeat in one battle means a redoubling of efforts. It means regrouping and returning to measured discipline in order to have the fortitude to fight. It means dusting off the grime and getting back to work.

It means keeping my soul diligently.

Personal Grace: A Prayer

October 17, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

We are weary, God.

Not just of the political insanity that surrounds us in these days as we approach November 8th–though there is that.

Not just of the constant barrage of disheartening news of email leaks and presidential candidate sexual exploits and rampant racism and seemingly hopelessness for the future of our country’s leadership–though there is that.

Not just of the heart wrenching images of children being killed in Aleppo, even as the brave white helmets risk their lives to try to save them in the hellish aftermath of raining barrel bombs in Syria–though absolutely, there is that.

Not just of things closer to home–concerns over our children and the world they are growing up in, never-ending exhaustion of long work days and short, sleepless, nightmare nights, and the weight of heavy decisions that bear down upon us in our day-in-and-day-out journeys through this life–though there is that.

It isn’t one thing, God. It is the culmination.

A brief rain shower on a mountainside creates little noticeable change. It is the aggregate of many rain showers that results in erosion.

The same is for us, God. The steady drip, drip, drip begins to erode our faith. And our hope.

We are weary.

But you know that, about us.

I read a simple, simple sentence this week, in John Frame’s Systematic Theology. It settled deep in my mind, upon reading it–and I’ve returned to it more than once in the past few days:

Grace, therefore, is utterly personal. ~ Frame (pg. 244)

Frame was referring to the truth that the grace Israel received from You, God, had absolutely nothing to do with her righteousness. No, the grace You showered upon her was because You were her covenant Lord.

And You are our covenant Lord; we who are Christ-followers. We, who have been bought with the costly price of the death of Your Son. We, who you have adopted as co-heirs with that same Son.

We, whom you love.

And in that, we find renewed hope.

We find renewed hope, precisely because Your grace is so very personal. In Your sovereignty, You know what we need better than we do ourselves. You see and know and act. You know we are weary. You know that truly, the churn that surrounds all of our days sometimes bring us to our knees. Which is not a bad thing, if on our knees, we are seeking You. But sometimes are knees buckle and we find ourselves too weary to lift our heads.

But You, oh God, are the lifter of our heads.

You are the shield about us. Even in the chaos.

You are our glory. (Psalm 3:3)

It is as we sang this morning:

Nations rise and nations fall
but God is the Lord above them all

The whole earth is filled with Your glory
The heavens declaring Your praise
The nations are filled with Your wonder
Holy are You Lord , Holy are You Lord (~Gateway Worship)

So God,

…on this night of yet another presidential debate, that has the potential of being another shameful debacle.

…on this night of continued tensions off the shore of Yemen, and in Syria, and devastation in Haiti, and the list is long….

…on this Sunday evening before yet another long week of work and parenting

…on this night when we will each return to our beds and try to exercise the faith to close our eyes and rest, and trust that You do not slumber (Psalm 121:3)

…on this eve of the unknown, because every day holds unknown joys and sorrows

We say to you this:

We need your very personal grace.

I need your very personal grace.

Grace that knows how to calm our anxious hearts, and settle the fears that wrap our souls in grey, and grace that knows how to give rest to our weariness.

Grace that knows how to discipline us even though discipline can be painful. Grace that knows how to ignite joy in us when we at one time feared that we may never know joy again. Grace that knows how to call us to You, as our only hope. That beckons us to cling to you–and grace to give us the ability to do what you call us to do–to parent. To work hard. To care deeply, for the hurting.

To pursue You.

And to know that You, giver of grace, will give us a very personal, intimate grace that will seep into the very fabric of our souls so that we know who You are, and Whose we are.

And, in that, we know hope.

Holy are You, Lord.

Holy ,Holy is the Lord Almighty
Holy, Holy all the nations rise singing
There is no one like You, there is none beside You
All of creation falling down when they see Your face
Holy are You Lord, Holy are You Lord

(Gateway Worship: The Whole Earth)

The Family of God (Book Review: Systematic Theology by John Frame)

September 4, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

There is a very real sense in which one becomes a part of a family, when one becomes a Christ-follower.

There is a beautifulness to this truth. There is an imagery difference between being welcomed in to a family and being welcomed to a new job. Or to a new professional organization. Or to a new Bunco group, PTA, sports team, neighborhood, school…..the list of “groups” we can belong to is long.

But nothing quiet invokes the same images, thoughts and feelings that being a part of a “family” does.

I’ve been blogging through John Frame’s Systematic Theology, published by P&R Publishing. I am so grateful for the copy they gifted me with; this has and continues to be an enjoyable, thought-provoking experience. You can find my first post in this series at this location: Theology Is…. I’ll list my other posts below, and I encourage you to check out P&R Publishing, where you can read more about this book and purchase it (currently on sale!). You can find their page here: P&R Publishing

This week, I’ve been reading and thinking my way through Chapter Six: The Family of God

This is an idea that, actually, I think of often. There are many–myself included–who struggle with the concept of family, for whatever reason. Sometimes, the hard things of this world penetrate our idea of what family looks like. I know this struggle quite intimately.

And, for some, that struggle bleeds into a warped view of who God is, and what it means to be His son or daughter. Maybe their earthly image of the person in the role of “father” makes the idea of God as Father something to back away from, instead of running headlong towards. Or, maybe fear of abandonment and rejection that one may have experienced in their early families causes that same person to avoid the risk of being part of this God-ordained family.

But sometimes, precisely because of these same struggles, a person may find the truth that being a Christ-follower also means becoming the son or daughter of God to be settling.

Comforting, even.

And they may run straight to that analogy and brace this “family” with a white-knuckled grip, because of the grace and mercy they have found therein.

It is the embodiment of Psalm 68:6(I typically reference ESV in my writings, but I find the NIV language here to be significant and, according to Frame, accurate”:

God sets the lonely in families…
but the rebellious live in a sun-scorched land.

He sets the lonely in families.

But, you see, it isn’t just any family. It’s a family where the patriarchal role is filled by one who is sovereign and holy. Whose grace, mercy and compassion reaches down and adopts us to be His own. Who will never abandon or forsake. Who will never leave us. Whose discipline is always, always, always for our good, even when it stings. And, who loves us deeply enough to give His son as a sacrifice for our sins, so that we may become His children, alongside this Son whom He resurrected to life–and through that act, bestows upon us the gift of eternal life, in His presence.

Truly, there is no greater love.

And so sometimes, we run to that because the longing is so deep for that gift of grace and mercy. We run to it, and we fall in it, and we marvel at what God has done.

And we are grateful. I am grateful.

Behind and beyond that, is the gift we are given of actual family here on this earth, in the form of fellow Christ-followers. Brothers and sisters, who come alongside us and share both our deepest griefs and our deepest joys.

However, we are still sinful beings. And, in our human sinfulness, we at times hurt each other. And those moments are so very painful–just ask any church member who has found themselves the object of church gossip. Or any pastor who has been hurt by a loud, boisterous critic. Or any Christ-follower who is broken-hearted over a lost friendship with other Christ-followers, beyond reconciliation. These moments are often intensely painful–maybe more so than when they occur outside the Christ-family–because our sense of family within the church among Christ-followers is so deep.

Worst still are the times when church becomes a not-safe place. When church becomes a store-front proclaiming the gospel, yet a backshop filled with dark things. I have known that situation as well.

But when we are obedient both in worship and action, and when we place our worship on the one true God, then the safest place of refuge we should be able to find, is the church. And when we come together in communion at His table, the unity found there should also be the place to celebrate our deepest joys.

Do you know why? Because church is practice for when we are called home, to our true place of citizenship…among our brothers and sisters, before the throne of our God.

Frame illuminates this relationship a bit when he writes:

“Brother is the most common way of referring to a believer after Jesus’ resurrection. The term distinguishes the believer from the world (1 Corinthians 5:9-11)…The name brother (which, of course, includes sisters) is a precious title, indicating fellowship in the holy family.”

Precious, indeed.

So we must be cognizant of this. We must be aware that the imperfect people who sit beside our imperfect selves in the pews of our churches, who have claimed the role of Christ-follower as we have ourselves, are our brothers and sisters. That is a precious title. And a gift that we give–and receive, both from God and from those alongside us.

Family.

Grateful.

I’d be remiss if I failed to mention that Frame also takes a significant look at the “God as a feminine entity” viewpoint in theology, as well as the critique that some have against the normative use of masculine language when referencing God. He argues soundly against both stances, and backs up his argument with logic and research that makes sense to my brain. I’ll not belabor that here, mainly because this is not something that I have ever struggled with. I can’t fathom thinking of God in feminine language usage; that’s not to say I’ve not thought about it, or contemplated the idea. It is just that I have, and I have landed soundly and firmly on the same side of the debate as Frame, after looking at scripture. However, if this is something you would like to do more thinking on, and are curious as to Frame’s thoughts on the subject, then this article by Tony Reinke, which references Frame’s thoughts, may be a good place to start: Desiring God.

Undone

August 28, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

We were ruined in Your presence
And tearing at the seams
Our eyes had gazed upon the King of kings

~ Undone, by Sovereign Grace

Undone.

I like that word.

It fills the space of trying to describe two very real things:

The state in which we all find ourselves, at one point or another, in life.

Surely, dear reader, you have found yourself undone, at one time or another. I know I have. I know that there have been times in my life, when I just could not possibly take another step. There were times in which my soul–if not my very mind–was so fractured and wrecked that I could not see past the next breath. I knew those moments as a child, facing the reality of evil for the first time. I knew those moments in the middle-of-the-night nightmares that steal my breath and sleep to this day. And, I absolutely knew that moment in the days following my husband’s arrest and subsequent sentencing. And, I have known the state of being undone since then, as I’ve walked this road of single parenting.

It’s terrifying.

It’s choking.

It’s exhausting.

It’s wrapped in a sense of hopelessness.

And, in those moments, it can be so very hard to sense God’s presence. To sense that He sees. And that He knows.

And, in those moments, it can also be very difficult to accept and trust His sovereignty.

But there is another definition, or application, to the beautiful word “Undone.”

You may be asking, first, how I can describe the word “Undone” as being beautiful, in light of the list above. Terror, and exhaustion, and hopelessness–those are not “beautiful” words.

And I would agree with you. You are right. They are not beautiful words. They are hard words that create chaos in our lives, and in the lives of those we love. But there truly is a sense in which being “Undone” can be a beautiful thing…..

……because, when we become “Undone”–when everything is stripped away in a Job-like manner and there is nothing left, and when we recognize that truly, we are Undone, it is then–and only then–do we see that He is our only hope.

And in those moments–our “Undone-ness” shifts much like the earth shifts, in the midst of an earthquake.

Our “Undone-ness” shifts from being “Undone” by the terrifying darkness, to being “Undone” by and before the One who is the only light that dispels that darkness, as we learn in John 1:4-5:

⁴In him was life, and the life was the light of men. ⁵The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

It’s that moment when we recognize that He, alone, in His sovereignty, not only sees the circumstances that threaten to bring us to a state of being undone and unable to take another step, let alone that next breath–He sees that. And knows. And grieves on our behalf.

And then, He acts.

Maybe not in the way we wish He would. He is not Santa Claus. He is not some Genie in a Bottle. We wouldn’t worship Him, if He were! We are selfish, sinful creatures. We would make out our self-centered, selfish Wish List, much like we did each year as children, when the Sears Christmas Catalog would appear in our mailboxes in November: and we would never be satisfied.

No, He may not give us what we beg Him for.

He may not take away the nightmares.

He may not take away the chronic illness. Or the cancer. Or repair the marriage. Or provide you with that better-paying job.

But–oh, my soul–He is not idle. He does not abandon. He does not sit in silence, though it most certainly seems to be that way sometimes.

He does not forsake.

But He does demand that we trust Him. He does demand that we worship Him. He does demand that we acknowledge that He. Is. God.

And we are not.

And, when we come to the end of ourselves, and bring our undone souls to the foot of His throne, He then does exactly what the lyrics from the song “Undone” by Sovereign Grace tells us He will do:

But You were rich in mercy
To provide what You demand
And now on Christ, the solid rock, we stand

We have not the ability to exercise faith that He is who He says He is, apart from His mercy to provide that faith to us. We have not the ability to worship Him, apart from His mercy to put the song of worship in our souls and upon our lips. And we have not the ability to acknowledge who He is, apart from His mercy to show us He is God.

And, in those moments–we become Undone by who He is.

(To purchase this and other great worship resources, please visit this site: Sovereign Grace Music)