Shame | All is Well

When We Come to the End of Ourselves

August 7, 2016 By Shelly Durkee

Sometimes, we grow weary.

Not just tired. There’s a difference.

There is a distinct difference, between being tired and being weary. You know that. I know that.

God knows that.

And, maybe he even created it to be that way. To be different.

We push ourselves hard, through the days allotted to us. And I don’t necessarily think that this is a bad thing. Our bodies were made to expend energy. To work hard in our jobs. To give our best, to everything that lays before us. To go to bed, tired enough to sleep. And sleep, as a form of trust in our Father.

Tired can be not good. But, it can also be very good. And right.

Weary, though…..that is a different animal.

When we are weary, it seeps into our bones. It settles into our minds, working itself to the core of our thinking. Tiredness washes over us, but weariness invades us.

I love words; I often say that I collect them, like others collect baseball cards. There is a word that I’ve “collected”, that I think is such a good accompanying word, for describing being weary:

Languishing

When someone is languishing, they are growing weaker. One of the definitions for “languish” is this:

To suffer from being forced to remain in an unpleasant place or situation.

When we remain for any amount of time, in a weary state, we languish. It is a form of suffering. But this is where the definition fails, I think–being weary is not just being in an unpleasant place. “Unpleasant” is not a strong enough word.

But “Hopeless”—that is a good fit. A Hopeless place.

The Israelites knew this hopeless place. They knew what it meant to be weary. They knew all the things that we know today—fear, exhaustion, the lure and trap of their sin, and seemingly endless days of wilderness wandering.

That’s where they were, when we come upon the words of Jeremiah 31. They were not just tired; though that was surely a part of the situation. No, they were beyond tired–they were weary. And settling into a hopelessness that must have felt like a tarry substance, around their souls.

And yes, this chapter is meant for the Israelites, and it must be read in that context. But it is also meant for us. For you. And for me.

I find Jeremiah 31 to be a chapter that I return to often. And, this week it is where I crash landed when hit with a wave of weariness that I feared would drown me. The reasons are not important–they are no different than the reasons that threaten to swamp your hope, in your world. It is enough to say that, by Thursday–o, my soul–my very bones ached with weariness, and I fought for breath.

There is so much, in this chapter—so much that speaks to my soul. I see myself throughout the words here deeply. For the longest time, it was a chapter that I couldn’t look too closely at; because it too closely mirrored much in my life. It was painful to read. It hurt. However, today it is often where I go, when weary, because the words written there have become a balm to those painful, hurtful places.

I have learned, that there truly is grace in the wilderness. (vs. 2)

I have been redeemed, from evil hands that were too strong for me. (vs. 11)

I have mourned, deeply–and I have known the miracle (for, truly, it was and is miraculous) of having that mourning turned to joy. (vs. 13)

I have known discipline from God, and the restoration that this discipline has brought time and time again. (vs. 18)

I have known shame (vs. 19), and I have known the shame-erasing mercy of God my Father. (vs. 20)

And I have known–and know, even tonight, the words of Jeremiah 25:

25 For I will satisfy the weary soul, and every languishing soul I will replenish.”

I find it so interesting, though, that vs. 25 uses the word “satisfy”. Why that word? Why not something like “restore” (though the sentence does end with replenish, which is similar), or “give rest”, or “energize”? Why “satisfy”?

I am not sure. Certainly there are theologians so much smarter than me, who could give a much better answer than my feeble attempt. However, I want to try, because the answer is important.

Why “satisfy”?

I think it may be this: when we are the most weary, we are also longing the most–for relief, for rest, for rescue, for the “not yet”, in the now.

We ache, for a filling of the void in our soul. We try to fill it with other things–with alcohol, with drugs, with drive and ambition. We try to fill it with escapism and materialism. We even try to feel it with “good works”. But the hole is bottomless, and our longing is deep. And, it is only filled by the one who is holy enough to do so–Emmanuel, the God who is with us.

It wasn’t the rescue from their enemies, that would satisfy the Israelites. It wasn’t the provision of their needs that would satisfy their longing. It wasn’t the Promised Land, that would bring them peace and joy.

It was God, Himself.

And, the same is true for us today. It is only God, who will satisfy our weary souls. He is the only one who can reverse the languishing we experience in this life.

Only Him.

Tomorrow, at our church, we will be introducing a new song to our congregation, from Elevation Worship, titled “O Come to the Altar”. When we practiced it last Sunday afternoon (the first time I had heard it), I really “liked” it. It’s a beautiful tune. The harmonies are nice. It’s unique, with beautiful words. I was looking forward to sharing it tomorrow.

However, by Thursday night of this week, I no longer “liked” what it said.

No, I needed, what it said.

And, I needed the words of Jeremiah 31st, to be truth in my soul and mind. And, because they are truth–because scripture is truth–I have clung to them with white knuckles; gripping the truth in my hands and soul and mind like one grips a branch as they hang over a cliff–like a vise.

And tomorrow, I will sing these words, trusting them to be truth both for me and my family, as well as my beloved church family:

O, what a Savior.

Isn’t He wonderful?

“O Come To The Altar”

Are you hurting and broken within
Overwhelmed by the weight of your sin
Jesus is calling
Have you come to the end of yourself
Do you thirst for a drink from the well
Jesus is calling

O come to the altar
The Father’s arms are open wide
Forgiveness was bought with
The precious blood of Jesus Christ

Leave behind your regrets and mistakes
Come today there’s no reason to wait
Jesus is calling
Bring your sorrows and trade them for joy
From the ashes a new life is born
Jesus is calling

O come to the altar
The Father’s arms are open wide
Forgiveness was bought with
The precious blood of Jesus Christ

Oh what a Savior
Isn’t he wonderful
Sing alleluia, Christ is risen
Bow down before him
For he is Lord of all
Sing alleluia, Christ is risen

O come to the altar
The Father’s arms are open wide
Forgiveness was bought with
The precious blood of Jesus Christ

Bear your cross as you wait for the crown
Tell the world of the treasure you’ve found

(Elevation Worship: Chris Brown, Mack Brock)

Church, What Will We Do With the 15-Year-Olds? (Response to the Planned Parenthood Videos)

August 24, 2015 By Shelly Durkee

So.

The Planned Parenthood videos.

The ones that I can’t bring myself to view or listen to.

I’ve read bits and pieces, though. And commentary from people I respect and trust—Russell Moore, Tim Challies, Tim Keller, to name a few.

What I have read, though, in respects to the actual interviews themselves–written “soundbites”, if you will–have wrecked me a bit. Made me ill.

Maranatha. Come quickly, God. Please.

What do we even do with this new (but not new) information? We knew it was horrific. But now we know. On a deeper level.

We cannot stay silent.

And so, on Saturday, protests were held across the United States. I saw pics that friends in New Mexico, and Missouri, and Kentucky. And I saw some posts where John Piper attended and prayed at a protest in Minneapolis.

Across the US, the cries were–as they should be–for the defunding of Planned Parenthood. The end of daily murder.

Absolutely. This must be our cry.

But that can’t be our only cry.

No, as Christ-followers, as churches, we must do more.

Because, when that 15-year old girl finds herself pregnant, I can guarantee you these things are true. Guarantee.

There is fear. Terror, even.
There is shame. Deep shame.
And there is a crazy mix of other things, as well, depending on the situation. And every, single, situation is different. Unique. And can only be viewed in the context of that young girl’s story.

What do we do with that?

I don’t have any answers, really. I wish I did. I don’t think there are any easy answers. Sure, we can open Pregnancy Centers and form committees and provide tests and counseling and assistance and all of that. All of that.

But we have to provide more. At the soul level.

We have to be places of safety for young women–teens, college students, young women. Places where they know that they will not be shamed further; places where they can find love that is not dependent on what they have done. Or what they decide to do.

They need love. First and foremost.

And time. Time is a precious commodity, I know. Maybe harder to give, than love even. But that is what it takes. Much time.

And support. Financial. Good prenatal care. Wise, biblical counseling in all areas.

And a willingness to be family to them, if necessary. And family never abandons.

And above all, the news that they are loved more than they could ever know, by the God who sees and knows.

So, yes. Protest Planned Parenthood. Call for not only their defunding, but for their obliteration as an organization.

But let us also be the kind of people, and our churches the kind of places where young girls and young college students think of first, when they find themselves bewildered by that positive pregnancy test.

And when that 15-year old girl walks through our doors with that positive pregnancy test, lets wrap our arms around her and tell her “We love you. Let’s talk.”

He Restores the Years (Joel 2)

July 20, 2015 By Shelly Durkee

I’m a bit overwhelmed this afternoon, and not entirely sure that I’ll be able to find words.

And, really, maybe, no words need to be found. But, me being me, of course I must try.

I had the honor, gift, privilege of singing an incredible song this morning, along with our phenomenal choir and band at church. Amazing experience. Never before have I sung something, and wished so fervently in that moment, or immediately after, to see Jesus face-to-face. At least, not to the degree that this morning brought.

Even so, come quickly Lord.

What will it be like, to see Him “high and exalted”? To be able to say “my eyes are fixed upon His face”?

I can’t even imagine, really—although, this morning, I believe, came very close.

Honor and power, dominion and praise–Unto the Lamb, who was and is, and is to come.

I could have sung it a dozen times this morning.

And while the lyrics echo those found in Revelation, for me personally–in that moment, they were more a reflection of the words found in Joel 2:

I will restore to you the years
that the swarming locust has eaten,
the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter,
my great army, which I sent among you.

26 “You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied,

    and praise the name of the Lord your God,

    who has dealt wondrously with you.

And my people shall never again be put to shame.

27 You shall know that I am in the midst of Israel,

    and that I am the Lord your God and there is none else.

And my people shall never again be put to shame.
They were joy.
They were a recognition that God is a God who restores year eaten away by the locusts.
Locusts are odd creatures.  On a couple of occasions, I visited my grandparents in Southern Illinois for a week or so.  I liked visiting them; mainly because I adored my grandpa.  But also, they lived in the country, which was always an adventure.  A garden to tend, a riding lawn mower to use, the wooden bridge that crossed the train tracks, where grandpa carved our names and where we would throw rocks off the bridge, trying to “ping” them on the rails.
But one of my favorite things to do was to hunt around the property for locusts that were getting ready to shed their skin.  Once I’d find one, I’d grab a lawn chair and sit and watch.  For a long time; because it was a long process.  After the locust had emerged and had finally flown off, I’d carefully remove the shell–the carcass of skin–and carefully wrap it in toilet paper and place it in a shoebox that I kept for that purpose.  Yes, I was an odd locust-shell hoarder child.
But my grandpa didn’t like  the locusts.  They ate his corn leaves, his tomato leaves, his lettuce leaves.  The words scripture uses to describe them are so accurate:  swarming.  hopping.  cutter.  destroyer.
I think those same words could be used for sin.  Ours, others.  And, the evil one, who seeks to consume and devour.  And, sometimes, life.
And these things–sin, the evil one, and even life, can eat away at the years.  I know this full well.
But God is talking here about His own army of locusts, sent out among the people.  We discussed that a bit in Sunday school this morning; it is a hard thing to grasp.  His righteousness.  His holiness.  His sovereignty.  I can’t grasp it.
However, I do know the experience of lost years.
But.
He is the restorer of those lost years.
He is Job’s restorer.
He is Israel’s restorer.
He is your restorer.
He is my restorer.
And, in the moments of singing “Hallelujah” this morning, in the crescendo of worship, in that very moment, this passage in Joel was no longer words on a page, but words in my soul:
“….praise the name of the Lord your God,

    who has dealt wondrously with you.“
My soul, my soul, my soul.  He has dealt wondrously with me.  Wondrously.  Hallelujah.
He is not far away.  He is near.  He has not and will not forsake.  He is near.  He is in our midst.  He is near.  He is the Lord our God.

There is none else.

I love how this passage ends: “….And my people shall never again be put to shame.“

I have known the drowning weight of shame. I still fight it/know it, and maybe I always will. But, what I fail so often to comprehend is this: God doesn’t restore the years only to expect us to dwell in that dark, red-faced, head-lowered prison of shame. He restores the years so we can and will “fix our eyes upon His face……”

He restores the years, so that we can and will lift up our faces and sing “All praise, unto the Lamb….who was and is, and is to come.”

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