By Kathy Sebright

Ever had that vague feeling of déjà vu, like you’ve been here, done this, and seen all of this before? Have you ever stared in the mirror for so long your own reflection didn’t make sense, or have you ever wondered what has happened to you – to whom you used to be and to your entire life? Have you ever been caught in the swirling vortex of emptiness, the desperation surrounding you like black does a night, the hope that life will ever be better completely out of reach?  Have you ever been so hopeless you wonder what the point is anymore?

I have sat wide-eyed, clutching my sanity by a very thin thread. I have, at times, let everything good in me be extinguished by the pain I was in. I have been hopeless, desperate, anxious, and so full of fear for what lies ahead I have forgotten how to live. It’s a cycle, a long, hard, exhausting cycle that I’ve been trying to break free of ever since my son was first diagnosed. It ebbs and flows, some days I can conquer the world and other days I am reduced to a pile on the floor. I can go from feeling capable and strong to helplessly out of control. I can feel strong in my faith and feel God’s plan for my family one minute and the next minute rage at a God who could allow my baby boy to suffer so much. The struggle is constantly changing me, chipping off more of the old me and exposing more of the true me underneath. It’s a painful process, one that leaves me feeling vulnerable and raw at the end of the day. I was just like everyone else, until suddenly I wasn’t. My son was just like everyone else, until suddenly he wasn’t. I never signed up for this. I never checked the box for optional yet honorable suffering on the release forms when I took my baby home from the hospital. It blindsided me. It came running after me and no matter what I did, I could not escape it. I went down kicking and screaming, fighting this monster I couldn’t see or predict. It didn’t matter what I did, I couldn’t escape it. This was going to be our new life.

There’s a lie being circulated out there about caregivers, about parents of special needs children, and really about anyone that has ever been broken apart in two and had to find a way to carry on. The lie is that God only gives you what you can handle, and I don’t believe it for a second. I’ve lived it. I know I had way more than I could handle. I’ve been crushed under a burden I couldn’t move on my own. I have fallen apart and been put back together again, the pieces of my broken heart precariously glued in place, but I can tell you it wasn’t on my own. I didn’t handle it; God did. I couldn’t put myself back together; God did. I couldn’t see light at the end of the tunnel; God knew. I couldn’t love God; God loved me anyhow. When I was at my most broken and hopeless, screaming like a wounded animal, God was there. When I was crawling up the wall, desperate for a way out, God was there. When I was sitting in the hospital, time after time, God was there. God was always there; I just had to be willing to see Him. He didn’t want me to do it on my own. He wanted me to trust Him, to rely on Him, and to believe Him. I spent a long time refusing to do just that, sure that God had turned His back on my family. When there was nowhere else to turn, I turned back the way I came, back towards the God that had always been there despite my erratic behavior. 

When you are struggling and I mean really, desperately struggling, God can get easily washed out in the pain. There is a wall that goes up in between who you used to be and who you are now. For me, God was on the other side of that wall. “I’ve been here before,” I’d think. “I’ve done all of this before, and I’ve seen it all before.” It was all a part of the process. Up, down, and back again – the never ending cycle of change.

If you are in the middle of that tumultuous cycle, I grieve with you. I know the pain you are in. I pray for peace as you transition into this life that doesn’t make sense. I know God has given you more than you can handle, and I won’t tell you everything will be okay because I don’t know if it really will. I will tell you that whatever happens, there is always God, even when you don’t feel Him, even when you don’t see Him, and even when you desperately want Him to not be there. You can always go back home to God. You can always turn back around. God will be there whenever you are ready to see Him again.

“And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.” ~ 2 Corinthians 1:7

© August 21, 2014

By Erin Elizabeth Austin

Sadness. Despair. Depression. Suicide. Our world lost a comedic legend this week to suicide, and with his death, many questions have been stirred up about depression, mental illness, and suicide. Many have wondered how someone so funny could struggle with depression and commit suicide, and as always, there have been those who claim a person who’s depressed is simply weak. Yet over the years, I’ve learned that even the strongest of Christians are not immune to despair and thoughts of suicide.

I used to think a Christian dealing with depression was an isolated event, like an eclipse, but it’s not true. The fact is more people than not have dealt with depression at least once in their lives. According to the CDC, one out six Americans has a mental illness, which includes depression. So why aren’t we talking about this? Better yet, why aren’t Christians talking about this?

I was only twenty-one-years old when I realized I needed help. I was driving down the interstate when the thought crossed my mind that I could have an “accident” while driving and kill myself and no one would ever know. Thankfully, I made it back to my college campus safe and sound, where I promptly signed-up for counseling. Of all the decisions I’ve ever made in my life, that was the smartest thing I’ve ever done, next to asking Jesus to save me from my sins.

Counseling became the place where I realized I was drowning in my emotions, where I was finally able to admit I hated my life. For the first time, I could say I hated being sick with multiple illnesses, having numerous doctors’ numbers programmed into my phone, taking a ridiculous amount of medicine, and staying home while all my friends went out and had a good time. And it became the place where I finally understood that Jesus cared about more than my sins and many failures. He cared about ME.

This doesn’t necessarily mean that you won’t ever struggle with feelings of sadness or discouragement, but with grace, you know where to go when you are faced with despair. And for those dealing with depression or a mental illness, it doesn’t mean you don’t need treatment. Personally, I think God was cheering me on when I signed-up for counseling. Sometimes, it’s necessary, and it doesn’t make you less of a person for needing it. So don’t be ashamed to ask for help. God’s not ashamed of you!

Whatever you’re going through today, know that God doesn’t judge you for being sad or discouraged. Rather than hide from Him, run to Him with your feelings and overwhelming emotions. He’s the only One who can turn your pain and despair into hope and joy.

Thriving is possible for everyone, but you have to be honest with yourself and God. Let His grace take the broken pieces of your life and turn it into a priceless treasure. If you do, you will never be the same, and that is amazing!

“Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble; He saved them out of their distresses. He brought them out of darkness and the shadow of death and broke their bands apart. Let them give thanks to the Lord for His lovingkindness, and for His wonders to the sons of men! For He has shattered gates of bronze and cut bars of iron asunder.” ~ Psalm 107:13-16

*If you missed the last devotion in the series “Learning to Thrive,” use this link http://www.erinelizabethaustin.com/blog/a-mighty-roar  

© August 13, 2014

By Josie Siler

Seven summers ago I found myself riding a camel through the Sahara Desert. It was an incredible experience. Being from the United States I am used to wearing scarves around my neck. They are a beautiful accessory and I love them! On my journey through the Sahara Dessert, I discovered that scarves are not only beautiful, they are practical. Without my scarf I would have been miserable. I can still remember the feel of the sun bearing down on my head. I can feel the sting of sand being whipped at my face by the blowing wind. I can’t tell you how grateful I was to have a scarf to cover my head from the sun and veil my face from the wind.

This summer, God has been doing a great work of emotional healing in my life. I have been made aware of the walls I have built around myself. I have come to the unpleasant realization that I have been wearing a mask for so long that I wasn’t aware I was wearing one. It had become a part of me. I have been hiding beneath the safe coverings of a veil in an attempt to shield myself from the ugly things in life. I am not who God has made me to be. I’ve been pretending. I’ve been living a lie.

To say this realization has been disconcerting would be an understatement. I feel naked and exposed. I feel like a fraud before God. I feel angry. I feel deep grief at the years that have been lost. I feel forgiven. I feel free. I feel hope for a better tomorrow. I feel.

I can’t tell you what a relief it is to allow myself to feel. I’ve been denying my feelings for so long. I’ve been stuffing them inside because they were too frightening to deal with. I’ve been hiding them because I didn’t want to make God (or myself) look bad. I have pretended for so long and so well that I believed myself. I truly thought everything was okay. I didn’t know what a mess I was. But now I know. I’ve been given a second chance at life. Today is a new day with Christ. The old has gone, the new has come!

I have lived with illness my entire life. God mercifully gave me the gift of being able to cope well. Without that gift, I probably wouldn’t be here today. But coping isn’t living. It’s barely surviving, and I want to thrive! I want to look the pain of illness in the face and cry. I need to experience the grief of being ill. I stand toe to toe with my fears and know that behind me stands the God-of-Angel-Armies.

Friends, if my words resonate in your heart, I want to tell you that there is hope. There is hope for so much more than what you’ve experienced so far in life. God loves you and me too much to let us cope forever. He will do the painful work of emotional healing in our lives. I know it’s terrifying to even think about thinking about our emotions. What if they’re too much? What if I open that box and more than I can handle pours out?

If God says that now is the time for you, He will help you. He will be even closer to you than the mask you’ve been wearing. He will help you understand what you are feeling so that you can talk about those feelings with Him.

Second Corinthians 3:16-18 (NLT) says:

Read those verses again if you have to. Let them soak in.

As I turn to the Lord in raw honesty, the veil is unwrapped from my face. I let the sun beat down on me and I close my eyes tightly as the wind whips the sand in my face.

Emotional growth is not easy. In fact, it may be one of the most painful things I will ever do.  

As I ask the Lord to reveal areas of my life that I need to acknowledge and deal with, a sense of freedom comes over me. I don’t have to hide the pain anymore. I can learn how to be the woman God created me to be.

How do we learn to be the person God has created us to be? I struggled with that question for weeks before it occurred to me that I don’t have to do anything. It is the Lord who makes us like Christ and changes us into His glorious image. As we become more like Christ, we become the person He has made us to be. It’s a beautiful thing!

Learning how to thrive emotionally isn’t something that happens overnight. It’s a process and it will take time. I’m at the beginning of my journey; won’t you join me? We can learn together!

© August 12, 2014