Articles & Posts
The Last Cup of Tea
I've been avoiding this blog too long. The story goes like this... Three years ago our middle son Blaine left for college. He and our youngest, Luke, were very, very close and I knew Blaine was leaving a big hole in Luke's life. Luke was only a year into a high school experience that would prove very hard and very lonely. My father's heart ached for him. So every morning, I would wake before Luke and make us both a cup of tea. We'd share those early morning moments in the kitchen, sipping tea, sometimes talking, sometimes just being quiet. Then, we would pray together, and I'd send Luke into his day. I might have missed a few mornings here and there, but this was our ritual every morning for three years. Tea, and prayers. As May approached, I could feel a knot in my stomach. I knew the morning was coming when we would have our last cup of tea. High school would end, summer would pass too quickly, and Luke would head of to college himself...and these days would be over. Forever. Yesterday Stasi and I got home from taking Luke to the university where he'll spend the next four years. Out of state. We walked into an empty house. An era has ended. Twenty-four years of life with sons at home and in one moment we are suddenly in the next stage of life. Now yes, yes...we will always be parents. In fact, our relationships with Sam (now out of college) and Blaine (a senior) are in some ways better than ever. But the golden days of boyhood and family are over. The house is very, very quiet. Man I hate goodbyes. I really do. This morning I made just one cup of tea.
John Eldredge
Disappearing Before My Eyes
She’s disappeared. Several years ago my mom was diagnosed with Lewy Body Dementia. If it’s true that the window of the soul is the eye, my mom’s windows are smudged and opaque, silver, muted in color and passion. Glazed, lost, disoriented… confused. To think of life without my mom seems unthinkable. No more mom, who with knowing eyes can speak mercy, love and kindness into my life. Gone are the life affirming hugs. Her embrace is now a grasp… a searching for the strength and hope that there is indeed a future… a heaven, another land, a river to cross… life again. She’s embracing me in her last days as I did her in my first. Her memory, our names... life is disappearing, eroding... it feels like a cruel finish. It isn't for the simple reason it isn't the end. My prayer is for the full comfort and peace of Christ and a grand, imminent entry into the eternal kingdom of our Lord. Then, in the hours following I will drink the finest wine to celebrate her victory over death; my tears will be joy; my worship of the One who holds the keys to life and death beyond passion. Life wins in the end. When I saw him, I fell at his feet as though dead. Then he placed his right hand on me and said: “Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and now look, I am alive forever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades. - Revelation 20 - Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
Father of the Bride
I’d forgotten how sentimental the movie “Father of The Bride” is. Together, our staff took a long lunch to watch the film and encourage our colleague Brad Beck, who will be “giving away” his daughter Brianne this weekend. Somewhere near the middle of the movie a transition took place; I was no longer watching a comedy starring Steve Martin, I was caught up in the memories, remembering, reliving and savoring the season, ceremony and celebration of my two daughter’s weddings. The movie ended and I swam home to linger in my journals, giving my heart permission to enjoy the life I live and the family encircling me. I'd like to share a few of my journal entries from the past over the next week on "Daughters, Fathering, Weddings, Grandchildren and Such". A journal entry from August 12, 2007 It began in tears… of joy. It ended in tears of grief. Within three hours of landing in Los Angeles I was sitting in an upscale lounge in the Mon Amie Bridal Salon. Meagan, in another room, was putting on the wedding dress she chose for her wedding and hoped I would love at my first viewing. It was interesting, a bit odd and the perfect set up - I’m in a waiting room while, in a separate room, privately, the bride-to-be is dressed while standing on a platform in a room of mirrors, complementary lighting, soft background music and a Mon Amie seamstress/associate present to assist (and insure that absolutely no photos are taken… until you have bought the dress). Readied the associate invites Lori and me into the “viewing” room to see our daughter in The Dress. All that unfolded is a little foggy. What I do know is that I lost my breath seeing Megs. I could not speak... not a word. I circled her wearing a smile and my heart on my sleeve. She asked me 2-3 times, “Dad, do you like it… what do you think?” She knew the answer but had to ask. Initially I could only look her in the eyes and nod approvingly… I felt like I was snorkeling… sucking air and viewing the world through a veil of water, or tears in my case. In a moment the words came, “Honey, you are the most beautiful woman in the world and the dress has nothing to do with it”. And it didn’t. The dress was merely an extension of all the speechless qualities I love about my daughter: alive, passionate, beautiful, feminine and funky, stunning and simple, trendy-unique-different, warm and unpretentious. I want the aisle I walk her down to be so very, very long. - Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
The Issue Isn't Our Desire, It's Our Timing.
We were created for unimaginable levels of pleasure… isn’t that what Eden held? Therefore, of course we legitimately long for all the pleasure we can squeeze out of life… that’s part of being, at the core, an Image Bearer. And there is no condemnation or shame in wanting our lives to be free of the hassles, discomfort and suffering that commonly jumps out and upon us in this life. The issue isn’t our desire, it is our timing. How much of what will fully be ours in heaven is available now? Yes we were made for Eden and it will be ours again… fully in the future! Until then we mustn’t be naïve to the realities of the world and fall victim to a spirit that demands all the pleasures of heaven we were designed for, now. - Craig McConnell (John and I have a conversation on this theme in this week’s podcast, “Worldview 4 Part 4) http://itunes.apple.com/podcast/john-eldredge-ransomed-heart/id260843816?mt=2
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Craig McConnell
Hitting The Wall
I remember Bill Sayers and I running the Redondo Beach Village Runner Fourth of July 5K. It’s a route set on the bluffs above the ocean run by a festive mob of Los Angelinos. The holiday enthusiasm of the crowd causes most to underestimate the deceptively steep and daunting final 2.5 kilometers. Bill and I ran with youthful vigor, thinking, as most do, “it’s only a 5K… we can trot this backwards with both arms tied behind our back, wearing Elvis suits while balancing seven plates on our heads.” How often we underestimate what we’re facing. We were fine until we hit the infamous “I” Avenue “Wall” and were passed by a coterie of pregnant women pushing strollers. Wounded masculine pride is an untapped energy source. With a glance Bill and I knew we had to ‘KICK’ the last 150 yards to pass the fleet-footed stroller team and re-establish our high finish in the Over 55-heavyweight-happy-go-lucky-good-guys–who-love-God-and-have-two-kids-and-hot-wives Division. So we kicked like mules with a bad rash; like war horses snorting under the strain of battle we went deep into overdrive and sprinted a solid 100 yards… 50 yards short of the finish. There was no glide time, drafting or coasting. We were blowing oil, throwing rods, overheating… We came up short and limped across the finish line sucking air, totally spent like a couple of vanquished weekend warriors. This cancer season has some similarities to that story. I’m running a race but keep misjudging where the finish line is. I thought the finish line was my last infusion of chemo. Nope. How often we underestimate what we’re facing. I sprinted and came up short. Apparently there’s a season of recovery, healing and finding a new normal I wasn't aware of. It’s pretty gruesome to realize how hard we can be upon ourselves with our demands for recovery, healing, performance and normalcy following the traumas, wounds and battles we endure. I’m pretty certain we can expect more from ourselves than Christ does. I thought I was running a standard 5K but I’ve already covered 10K’s and am still moving forward. This is a race I’ll finish and by the grace and strength of God I’ll hoist a tall cold one and echo Timothy’s words, “I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." What mile-marker are you at? - Craig McConnell
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Craig McConnell
Windows of Grace
My friend, Rosetta, is all for hearing about the daily activities of my life. I had called her from a stop light to check in. This day was a full one. I was busy inside and out, driving to and fro on an endless stream of errands. I was tired and not happy about it. I called Rose in the middle of my lists to say hello but also to complain a little. She didn’t let me. Not even a little bit. Instead, she spoke words of loving conviction. “How wonderful that you can get out!” “How great that you have such a full life!” “Oh, to be able to walk!” Rosetta’s life isn’t full with running errands or with running of any kind. She can’t run. She can’t walk. Bound to a wheelchair, Rose doesn’t “get out” much. But Rosetta has so much life exuding out of her spirit that sometimes, to my embarrassment, I forget. Her words reframed my moment and opened my eyes. Again. Oh to have a spirit of gratitude. Oh, to be thankful that I am able to be out and about engaged in the daily activities of a full and healthy life! Rosetta spends many of her days looking out the window in her little apartment watching the activity of others more physically able. Her little view of the world is a window of grace and she invites me to see my world through it. Rosetta offers me that. In her company the priorities of my life order themselves up correctly. She teaches me that way of love sees with a thankful heart. The simple moments that I too often take for granted are the very pearls that join together and make a beautiful life, but only when strung together with thankfulness, linked with grace. Rosetta longs to walk, to run, to get out and about. She’s been dreaming lately of walking and believes it is a promise from God that she is going to. Too many days, Rose thinks that her life is not one of much impact since she lives in dependence upon the care of others. Like most of us, she doesn’t know how much she enriches those around her by her faith in the midst of her confined life. I get to offer her my view of her life through the window of grace and she drinks deeply from hope. Some days Rosetta feels like she is losing her mind because of the unbearable pain that racks through her body but within moments the gaze of her heart turns back to Jesus in trust. She looks to him and is grateful for his love. She is thankful for his provision. She knows joy because she knows she is his. Last Friday night Rosetta and I enjoyed an unhurried conversation. Both sitting in our respective chairs, we spoke of thoughtful things; of hope, of suffering, of the mysterious ways of our God. She cried in saying goodbye. I didn’t know it would be our last. Come Sunday morning, Rosetta is running. She is free and healed and happy and seeing face to face the One who had won her heart. I already miss her. I am going to continue to miss her. But only for a little while. And while I do, I pray to see my life through a window of grace and invite others to share the view.
Stasi Eldredge
Lullaby of Delight
We were visiting friends in Tucson, escaping the freezing temperatures for a brief respite to the warmth of the sun and the warmth of a welcome. After a restful day exploring the wonder of the desert, we gathered together for evening prayer before turning in. A particular phrase of one of my friend’s prayer caught my heart and my imagination. “Father, sing your lullaby of delight over us”. I used to make up songs for my children, singing lullabies softly to coax my young sons to sleep. Never remembering the correct words, I would make them up as I went along inserting their names often. I loved it. Turns out, they loved it too. As I laid me down to sleep that night in Tucson, I asked God what his lullaby of delight over me sounded like. My mind immediately flashed to holy moments from earlier in the day - sitting alone in the shade listening to the wind blow through the leaves of the eucalyptus trees towering above me, the sound like water, like the movement of life. I remembered the sound of the red tail hawks crying and calling to each other as they circled above their nearby nest. The song of quails and mourning doves and birds I didn’t recognize added their melodies – a living spontaneous symphony. Then all was quiet again save for the movement of leaves as another gentle rolling breeze sung its way through the magnificent swaying trees. Beautiful. A holy song. A lullaby of delight.
Stasi Eldredge
Limitations
Today is "Cycle Six, Day Ten" which in Chemotherapy parlance means that the first day of my sixth and final cycle of Chemo was ten days ago. Internally some demonstrative part of me is screaming, “Are you Florence Kling DeWolf-Harding me? I’ve peaked and valley-ed a thousand times, at least forty days have passed?!!?” This cycle involved a notch or two increase in my experience of "Chemo Brain" (crippled short term memory, seemingly no ability to focus or multi-task, general foggy thinking/feeling). So, having finished the blessed poison I was anxious and a bit premature in my efforts to read through the last eight months of journal entries to draw out all the redemptive lessons, experiences, ups & downs and draft a "Shit Howdy" personal story. It would be something to point to as a tangible "it was all worth it" trophy that helps make a little more sense of the hell I just went through. Evidence that "I'm back… a contributor, a participant, a value or needed/appreciated "producer". It would’ve been an honest and vulnerable inspiration, a vehicle for God to call His people to fuller consecration and deeper worship. I can’t do it. It can’t be done. I’m fried. It is hard being weak, limited… on the bench… non-productive, beached (or is it “Shipwrecked”?). So, this morning Lori reads out of one of her favorite Devotionals: “Thank Me for the conditions that are requiring you to be still. Do not spoil these quiet hours by wishing them away, waiting impatiently to be active again. Some of the greatest works in My kingdom have been done from sick beds and… Instead of resenting the limitations of a weakened body, search for My way in the midst of these very circumstances. Limitations can be liberating when your strongest desire is living close to Me. Quietness and trust enhance your awareness of My Presence with you. Do not despise these simple ways of serving Me. Although you feel cut off from the activity of the world, your quiet trust makes a powerful statement in spiritual realms. My Strength and Power show themselves most effective in weakness.”* I HAVE tasted a bit of this, yet still resist the thought that His grace and Power are best seen in/through my weaknesses (2 Corinthians 9). - Craig McConnell * Lori’s devotional is “Jesus Calling: Enjoying Peace in His Presence”, by Sarah Young).
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Craig McConnell
Practicing the Presence of Jesus
I’m a late-comer to the worshipping world. Years before me Stasi began to discover the beauty and intimacy of personal times of worship. She’d tuck herself away in our bedroom with her headphones and iPod, and just worship Jesus. Never once did she reappear to say, “Well…that was a waste of time.” It took me several years to catch on, but I began to do the same. My preference would be to worship on a run, or, driving in my car. I began to look forward to longer drives, because of the extended time it would give me to listen to, soak in and respond to good worship music. (This is now my favorite way to pass airplane flights.) But more often than not, its simply grabbing some time in my office with the door shut and the music cranked. I almost ALWAYS have seven other things that seem far more practical or pressing to do. But not once have I felt, having made the choice, “Well…that was a waste of time.” I found myself wondering today if you are practicing the same. Rather than taking it for granted, I thought I’d put the recommendation before you. Here are a couple of songs/albums I’ve really been enjoying the past few weeks: Here on Earth by Bryan and Katie Torwalt (especially “I See Heaven,” and “I Breathe You in God”). Also The Loft Sessions by Bethel Music (especially “Come to Me” by Jenn Johnson). Gosh, I could make a dozen more suggestions, but Stasi’s at the retreat and I gotta go make dinner. So, there you go. Try it. Or, come back to it.
John Eldredge
Feather Tuffed
Do you know that feeling of returning home after being away for a while? Perhaps you’ve been out of town on vacation, visiting the in-laws, stuck on a desert island or had your head in the sand and you walk back into you house just as you left it three, eight, seventeen or one-hundred-seventy-five days ago and you exhale and, for better or worse, you’re home! The plants need watering but the big easy chair beckons, you should unpack the car but you sort through the mail, your bed feels more comfortable then ever, there’s no food in the fridge but the cookies are still in the cupboard… you can kick off the shoes and relax… you’re home and it feels great! That’s how I began to feel today. Reentry, a retaking possession of my “health”, “wellness”, sanity, senses, heart… I felt like I was… back home. This chemo treatment was tough - I know, I know, each of them are tough and each one of them is tougher than the other; it’s true! It’s horribly true. I still feel like damaged goods but I’m home. In the same way you can tell I’ve been camping by the fact that I smell like smoke, am wearing a torn plaid flannel shirt and a faded Cabela’s Camo hat; you can tell I just had a rough ride with chemo by the fatigue, stomach doing gymnastics, aches, foggy brain and a 1,000 yard stare. But there’s also a smile on my face and a gratefulness that: I survived! God is good… so good, so very good. (Yes! There were times He didn’t seem near, or share my desire for relief of discomfort/pain/distress, yet, when I had no faith or strength He was there!) I have family and friends who’ve covered me with prayer, grace, love, patience, support, kindness, mercy and life-words for month after month My Medical Team, Chemo and God are viciously annihilating cancer cells throughout my body. I think I’m a different man now than I was seven months ago. A party is planned when my final Eleanor-Roosevelt-cheese caking-feather-tuffed chemical romance is completed. Thank you for your prayers and support!
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Craig McConnell
Let Go of The Rope!
Back Story: A friend sent me this video link of a few surfers and a “wave” off the shore of Teahupoʻo, a village on the south-west coast of the island of Tahiti, French Polynesia, southern Pacific Ocean. Thoughts: For so many reasons I love this. I’ve ridden that wave. Don’t you want a piece of this? Let go of the rope! http://video.mpora.com/watch/5Pgs2slxu/
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Craig McConnell
A Fresh Start
This is that time of year we start thinking about making changes – “new year, new you” and all that. This is a good time to ask yourself, What do I want to be different this year? Really. Sit with that for ten minutes. Let your heart surface. Write it down. And then…take it to Jesus in prayer. Lord – come into this. Show me the way. Give me the first step, or the next step. Ask Jesus, What is the theme of this year, Lord? I do this every January 1st, and it has proven a mighty rescue many times over. Usually Jesus will say one simple thing. Three years ago it was, “Love.” And all through the year, I found myself needing to return to the simple truth of love. Two years ago it was, “Restoration,” and that proved to be the year I took a short sabbatical and sought the restoration I needed. Last year it was, “My glory,” and wow – it was the year of Beautiful Outlaw and I could say a hundred things about how “My glory” proved true. So ask Jesus, What is the theme of this year, Lord? And when he speaks, write it down! Post it somewhere you will see it often. In very big letters. Pray the “Daily Prayer.” Its not a magic wand or a lottery ticket, but the folks who have made a practice of this will tell you it has been huuuuge for them. So simple, really. But a rescue. A breakthrough. It clears the fog. And so much more. You can find a version to print or an audio download free at www.ransomedheart.com. Look under “More,” then “Prayers.” Times are hard. Quick little, “Jesus be with me” prayers just aren’t going to cut it anymore. Get yourself into some sort of community. I know, I know – its hard, its messy, it is never ever exactly what you want. But you need it anyways. Look at Jesus – even the Son of God chose to live in community with a handful of men and women because he needed to. Now, community is not 5,000 people on Sunday morning. That can be awesome, but you need people in your life. Start a small group. Take the risk. Invite some folks over and spend three months going through one of our DVD series. Just give it three months and see what Jesus does. Take the battle seriously. Too many folks are still trying to live as though there are only two big players in their life – them, and God. And they’re mad that God isn’t coming through more often. Friends, enough with the naiveté. You live in a world at war, and that war is heating up. Live like it. Fight back. There is more freedom than you ever thought possible…but only if you fight back. Stop interpreting hassles as merely “hassles.” Stop thinking things will get better with time. This is Normandy – live like it! Take your healing seriously. Yes, you can have a new year, new you. You can. If you’ll take your healing seriously. I mean your inner healing, the restoration of your soul. We’ve all taken hits in this war, and our souls are in great need of wholeness and freedom and life. Well…it isn’t going to happen unless you pursue it! Get some counseling. Or healing prayer. Ask Jesus, What do I need to do for my healing and restoration? What do you have for me, Lord? Where are you leading? With a whole heart, you are unstoppable. With a wounded heart, you are limping along. With a broken heart, you are very, very vulnerable. Fall in love with God again. There’s a reason “love God with everything that is within you” is the first and greatest command. Nothing in life works right until we practice this. But when we do fall in love with God, love him with everything we are, it is the single greatest act of re-orientation we could ask for – the single greatest shift towards wholeness, happiness, life and clarity that any person could ever choose. But the funny thing is, even among God’s own people, very few actually make this the main thing. Friends – this is the main thing. If it’s been years since you read The Sacred Romance, read it again. If you haven’t yet opened Beautiful Outlaw, now is the time. OK, this was a little fatherly counsel, here at the start of 2012
John Eldredge
I Am Bethlehem
And so we have celebrated Christmas, the coming of Jesus to this world. And O what a thing to celebrate! The manger, the angels, the shepherds…the focus of the entire pageant comes down to this: Jesus became a man. “Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity…made like his brothers in every way” (Hebrews 2:14,17). Jesus took on a genuine humanity. Pause, and let that sink in – Jesus shared in your humanity. Baby Jesus wasn’t wearing a halo. Apologies to Away In a Manger, but yes he cried; he spit up his food; he needed to be held, and his diapers needing changing; this infant was a real infant. He needed to learn to walk, to talk, to tie his shoes. That alone is stunning, stunning, stunning. And Jesus the man wasn’t faking it, either – Gethsemane was real. The sorrow, the anguish, all of it. His humanity was real. It makes his life all the more stunning. Jesus took on a genuine humanity. This is at the center of our Christmas celebration – his Advent, his coming to earth. And of course, this late in the story, I hope it is nearly impossible for you to celebrate Christmas without your heart turning toward his return. One day soon, Jesus Christ is going to return to this earth, with his army, to make a final end of evil and to usher in the coming of a Golden Age. We refer to this as the “Second Coming.” I find myself praying for it nearly every day. But what struck me this Christmas was this: The Second Coming is actually - in fact and in reality - the Third Coming. Christ came to Bethlehem. And then, he comes to dwell in us, to be born in us. The Second Coming is actually in us – Christ is born in us, and is formed in us. He is here, right now, in us. Paul says that his whole life of labor was so that the Incarnation might continue…in us. “My dear children, for whom I am again in the pains of childbirth until Christ is formed in you” (Galatians 4:19). Until this man, this life, is formed in you. Christ was first formed in Mary’s womb; now he is being formed in us. It is a truth unique to Christianity and no other religion. "…the mystery that has been kept hidden for ages and generations, but is now disclosed to the saints…Christ in you, the hope of glory" (Col 1:25-27). Jesus made his first invasion into Bethlehem. His second great act of indwelling happens when we open our hearts to him, and he comes to live in us. Think of it - Jesus Christ is inside of you, now, this very moment. A friend of mine who lives in eastern Europe sent me this in a late night email. (He is responding to a passage in Beautiful Outlaw): “It is late night and I was putting my little ones to bed (they are not that little any more but they like it anyways). I'm still sitting here next to their beds and they had fallen to sleep at least an hour ago but I'm reading on the Humility of Jesus. I am disarmed, naked, amazed and in awe with this Jesus. It is like a new Incarnation – the Word is becoming Flesh in me now. I think the Incarnation didn't finish but it continues." The Incarnation didn’t finish but continues. It is one of my favorite phrases. The Incarnation continues…in us. And so on Christmas Eve, as our family and a few dear friends were having a quiet service here at home, and I was sharing these very thoughts about the Second Coming actually being in us, suddenly the Spirit leapt in me and I practically shouted, “I am Bethlehem.” And you are Bethlehem. The Incarnation continues, just as real as it did that fateful night. It continues in us.
John Eldredge
Give Jesus
OK, this is really worth whooping over: I just heard about a guy who posted an offer to his 600 Facebook friends, offering to give them a free copy of Beautiful Outlaw, no strings attached. All they have to do is reply yes, they'd like one, and give him an address, and that's it. He'll send one asap. Wow. Talk about Merry Christmas. What a cool idea. I'm blown away by the generosity. But also by the Intentionality. I mean, right – let's get Jesus out there, every way we possibly can. This Jesus. This beautiful portrayal. O may it be a rescue for those lost in the religious fog, and may it be a enticing introduction for those who don't yet know Jesus. When I heard about the offer, it moved me to think again about who I can give a copy to. Right away my neighbors came to mind, who we've been wanting to share Christ with, but something always seems to delay the moment. To send a few out to family as well. Heck, if I had a Facebook page, I'd do what this guy is doing. Let's get extravagant with Jesus! So…how about giving Jesus for Christmas. You can get awesome case discounts on Beautiful Outlaw at our website store. After all, Bethlehem was an invasion. Let's celebrate Christmas by carrying it on.
John Eldredge
Christianity 101
Early in my Christian walk I fell into a subset of believers viewed by other believers as depreciating the call to an obedient submission to the Lordship of Christ by our “over emphasis” on the grace of God. They may have been right, I knew so little but believed it passionately. Now, I hope I wouldn’t take sides in a false dichotomy. The definition of grace I grew up on was “unmerited favor”. That’s pretty short and simple. I imagine all my training, experience and insight could add a little color and texture to that definition but I’m not sure I’d really improve it. Unmerited favor. Unmerited favor. Unmerited favor from God, for others and from others is something I’m experiencing in ways that make me wonder whether I’m rollicking in grace for the first time or is it another deeper cut “thingie” where something you know you now really know. (Oh Lord, forgive me for all those passionate sermons on things that I knew so very little about.) I never imagined being in a place/season where I have so little to offer others and am so needy of them. In need of things I resist receiving, I haven’t earned, don’t deserve, can’t live without and may not be able to repay. Grace. Unmerited, compassionate, free flowing, heart felt favor… from God, from others and for others. I’m on the front end of all of this and it feels like “Christianity 101” but its not the first time I’ve repeated a course before. Grace. (Tell me about the grace you’ve experienced.)
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Craig McConnell
Loving Jesus in the Pain
This has been a tough year for me. A year with a lot of suffering. Both Stasi and I have been through a lot of physical affliction. There were accidents. Betrayals. My father died this year. On top of this, my friends have been suffering. A year with a lot of pain in it. And there is nothing like suffering to wreak havoc in your relationship with God. The damage pain does to our relationship with Jesus is often far, far worse than the pain itself. Every time I turned to Jesus in the midst of one episode of heartache then another, every single time I turned to him, the first thing he would say was, "Love me." At first it surprised me—Aren't you supposed to say you love me? I'm the one who's hurting here. But somehow, instinctively, I knew what he meant, knew what he was after. "Love me now, in this—not for this, but in this." And those words have been a rescue. Here's why: Pain causes us to pull away from God. At the very moment we need him most, we pull back. Our soul withdraws, like a snail into its shell. Then you not only have the heartache, you have "lost" God for awhile too. Desolation on top of suffering. Sometimes it takes months, even years, to recover the relationship. Jesus was rescuing me from that cycle by telling me to love him now, right in the midst of the pain. On a soul level, when I love God in this place, it opens my heart and soul back up to him right where I need him most, right in the center of the pain. Too often what we cry out for is understanding —Why, God? But I've learned over the years that when you are in the midst of the suffering, you don't often get understanding, and frankly, you don't need understanding. You need God. And so, dear friends, I wanted to pass this along to you, for it has been a great help to me. Love Jesus, right there, right in the midst of the pain. Just start telling him you love him, right where you are hurting. For as you do, it enables your heart to open back up to him; it enables him to come to you in this very place. And it is Jesus that we need. Desperately.
John Eldredge