A few years ago,

I was reading John 5:2-9

and I had an “ah-ha!” moment.

I love moments like this when I am reading Scripture.  Words on the page jump out at me, coming alive as if I am reading them for the very first time.  I had read this account of the healing of the invalid at the pool called Bethesda many times.

This time, however, was different.

I was identifying myself – my sinful nature – in this man.  I knew it was the Holy Spirit convicting me, showing me areas in my life where growth was needed.

Now there is in Jerusalem by the Sheep Gate a pool, in Aramaic called Bethesda, which has five roofed colonnades.  In these lay a multitude of invalids – blind, lame, and paralyzed.  One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years.  When Jesus saw him lying there and knew that he had already been there a long time, he said to him, “Do you want to be healed?”  The sick man answered him, “Sir, I have no one to put me into the pool when the water is stirred up, and while I am going another steps down before me.”  Jesus said to him, ” Get up, take up your bed, and walk.”  And at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked. (John 5:2-9, ESV)

By the pool “lay a multitude of invalids – blind, lame, and paralyzed”(v. 3).  I am an invalid, maybe not physically, but an invalid in spirit.

“One man was there who had been an invalid for thirty-eight years” (v.5)  I will be 38 this summer.  The first 28 were mostly spent in spiritual bliss believing I had my faith all figured out.  It is only in these last 10 years that I have realized how naive I have been and that in fact I have been a “spiritual invalid” all along.  My affliction was self-pity.  I had allowed the hurts of the past to define me and had used my state of grief to justify my treatment of myself and others.

Do you notice the word, “knew” in verse 6?  I just learned that this word translated into the Hebrew is yada’ - defined by Kyle Idleman in his book “Not a Fan” as to know completely and to be completely known.  In the Old Testament, this word, to know, is used when referring to a man knowing his wife, as in intimacy.  You get the message.

So Jesus knew this man – really knew him…his thoughts, his perceptions, his fears, his “hold-ups”, his past, his future, his present.  At first, I found Jesus’ question, “Do you want to be healed?” (v.6) as odd.  I wanted to answer back, “Uh duh!  Of course he wants to be healed.  That’s why the man has been at the pool for 38 years!”  (This pool is one thousands of people flocked to believing it had the power to heal.)

But, like I said above, this

was an ah-ha! moment.

I went to the Scriptures

seeking insight and

knowledge,

and He wanted to grow in

intimacy with me

by showing me more of

Himself.

The man answers Jesus’ question, “Do you want to be healed?”, with two statements.  1. He states that there is no one to put him into the pool at the time the water is stirred up (it was believed that this was when the healing took place).  2. He also states that he tries to go, but another person steps ahead of him.

Okay, so this is where the ah-

ha!! moment really takes

shape.

Those two statements jump out to me as excuses.  The man had been sitting at the pool for 38 years!!  Can he really honestly say that in all that time no one had offered to help him into the pool, and that every single time he had tried to get to the pool someone stepped in front of him?  How many times had he tried?  How many people had he asked for help?  There had to have been one merciful person in that time that wanted to help him?  He could have died sitting on those steps waiting.

Then as quickly as these

questions came to my mind,

the mirror flipped, and I saw

myself looking back at me.

Oh my gosh!!  I had been hearing the Lord ask me over and over again, “Do you want to be healed?  Healed from the grief, self-pity, the anger, the fear?”.  Do you know how I responded over and over again?  Are you familiar with the saying, “Talk to the hand.”?

That was me, palm out, head turned away, teeth clenched, telling Christ – “Talk to the hand!!!  I can’t change what has happened to me, I can’t change the pain I feel, I can’t change how angry I am, I can’t change anything about it.  I didn’t choose this!  I am going to hold this anger and self-pity because {I didn’t know it at the time} I am too afraid to let it go, it will hurt too much.”

“What happens to me if I let it

go?  Who will I be then?”

The invalid was expecting Jesus to join him in his pity party.  He just wanted someone to sit and listen.  Can’t you hear the pleading in the man’s voice?  I can hear it.   I had the same pleading in my voice.  It went something like this.

“Don’t you get it, God? I am

hurting! I am sad! I am

grieving!

It’s okay for me to act this

way,

to not Love those in my life

the way I am supposed to.

They just need to accept that

this is who I am, and I am

grieving.”

“I have an excuse for my

hurtful behavior.  It is okay.”

Take a look at verse 8.  Jesus says to the man, “Get up, take your bed, and walk”.  I can imagine Jesus standing over him and commanding him to get up and walk.  No pity party there!  Instead, Jesus ignores the man’s invitation as if communicating to him that He is not interested in the man’s excuses.

It is up to you to act!

Do something!

Get up and walk!

Live!

I am sure no one had spoken to the man in this way.  Jesus loved him so deeply he was willing to risk the man refusing His extension of Love.

These are the words I heard Jesus speak to me through my prayer, meditation, and journaling on these verses.

“Jana, stop letting your grief,

self-pity, sadness, anger, and

fear define you!

You have the power within

you to get up and walk!

To live abundantly!

You just have to make the

choice to do it!”

Choice – Oh…I do have a choice.

Ah-Ha!!  I finally got it.

I can choose how I will let all that has happened in my life define me.

And notice in the final verse (9), “at once the man was healed, and he took up his bed and walked”.  At once – the man made a choice.  He was done.  38 years is a long time to sit waiting, feeling sorry for yourself.  Do you think he lived abundantly after his encounter with Jesus?  I do!

I finally chose to receive the healing Jesus was extending to me. You know how I finally decided – I recognized how tired I was.  Tired!!!  Holding the self-pity, grief, sadness, anger, and fear – oh my gosh!  I was so tired of pretending everything in my life was okay!  The facade of “perfection” wore me out, brought me to my knees.  I was so ready to give it up and be honest, transparent, authentic for God, for myself and for those I love.

Am I Living Abundantly?

Yes, I can’t help it!

I feel drunk on pure joy most of the time.  It sounds crazy I know, but it is the truth.  I can’t explain it with words, only to say that the Lord healed my broken heart.  He helped me choose life over death.

It was ultimately my choice to receive His healing touch.  And daily, I will myself to make the choice to live as one covered by His Grace and His Mercy.

He extended His Love to me.  I had to choose to Accept Him.

newly purposed,

jana

it would have a sign that reads,

“Closed on Sundays”.

Instead, I remember the Sabbath in my own way.  I will post these words every Sunday as a reminder to myself to rest from my work {even though I love writing and it doesn’t feel like work to me}, and take the Sabbath.  The fact is when I am on the computer, I am less attentive to the needs of my husband, children, and home.  I hear His voice less often and am consumed with my thoughts and desires.  I must step away, pause, be quiet, and rest.

“If you turn back your foot from the Sabbath, from doing your pleasure on my holy day, and call the Sabbath a delight and the holy day of the LORD honorable; if you honor it, not going your own ways, or seeking your own pleasure, or talking idly; then you shall take delight in the LORD, and I will make you ride on the heights of the earth; I will feed you with the heritage of Jacob your father, for the mouth of the LORD has spoken.”

(Isaiah 58:13-14)

 

“Remember the Sabbath day, to keep it holy.”

(Exodus 20:8)

 

newly purposed,

jana

Summer is on everyone’s mind.  The days are warmer and longer, the nights perfect for grilling and bonfires.  The kids are getting antsy counting down the days until the end of the school year.  Moms are busy trying to get all of the last minute things done that seem more impossible with children in tow.  Summer is a time to catch our breaths, sleep in, enjoy company, and just play.

When I think of summer, this summer in particular, I feel my

chest tighten with emotion.  

This summer we are moving…again.

Yep.  We are one of those military families. The ones who pop into your lives for a moment, plant roots {sometimes deep, sometimes shallow} and then pack up, say goodbye, and look ahead to our next assignment.

I have often wondered what it must be like for those we leave behind.

At our current assignment, we will mark 11 months on the ground here when we drive away behind the moving van.  Eleven Months!  The shortest time yet.  It blows my mind when I think of the fact that even though we have only been here 11 months – we have planted deep roots.

My boys’ school.

It is a family – We share morning worship together, we pray for the children, the teachers really know my kids, my kids actually miss school on the weekends.  These roots are deep.  It will be hard to say goodbye.

Our church.  

We are there every Sunday when possible and we warm the seats up front!  Worship, Sunday School, Fellowship.  That has been our Sunday morning routine for the entire 11 months.  These roots are deep.  We will miss this church home.

Our neighborhood.  

Weekends in the cul-de-sac riding bikes, roasting s’mores, throwing the baseball, and our new love playing dodgeball!  We will take with us many wonderful memories.

I hate the saying goodbye part.

I especially do not like saying goodbye to the “home-towners” who have taken the time to get to know us, extended hospitality, and taken an interest in our family.

What is it like for them to let us go?  

To invest in a relationship with us, and then to wave goodbye?  

It can’t be easy.

Yet, they are willing to risk the pain that comes with fostering a friendship with us.

For that I am deeply grateful.

When we learn of a new assignment pending on the horizon, I begin praying.  I pray that the Lord will show us the home/neighborhood He has chosen for us.  I ask him to show me how he will use us four to serve him in that new community. I pray for wisdom for choosing the boys’ school.  I pray for our new church home believing the Lord will provide.

I imagine it all.

I imagine us there.

I imagine the Holy Spirit hovering over our “soon-to-be new home” orchestrating everything, and putting everyone and everything into place for our arrival.  I don’t believe there are any accidents.  I believe the neighbors we live by are our neighbors divinely appointed.  I believe the base we are sent to is for a specific reason.  I believe the school and church we feel led to is for a specific purpose.  I keep praying, keep believing until the peace and stillness rests inside of me.  I take hold of the promise that I know is to come, and I wait expectantly.

I here Him say,

“Be still and know that I am God” (Psalms 46:10).

Upon arriving at our new location, I watch with hopeful expectation knowing God has a purpose for it all.  And, what unfolds is awesome.  I can look back now and see His hand in every single assignment we have had and know that all was purposed for His glory.  The roots were allowed to grow deep because our purpose for being there was bigger than we can possibly understand.

I know it must hurt those we leave behind.  We hurt saying goodbye to them and leaving the memories and some of the roots behind.  I find my comfort in knowing that for many it is just a “see you later” for I will see them in eternity.  And, in this promise, I find my comfort.

newly purposed,

jana

This past Mother’s Day included breakfast made by my boys with help from daddy,

surprise home-made presents,

and many hugs and kisses.

What more could a mother want?

It was the unexpected gift.  

The faith of a child.

“Mommy, it is like Jesus who is the light in the darkness.”

“Yes, sweetheart, it is.”

 

The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who dwelt in a land of deep darkness, on them has light shined.  Isaiah 9:2 (ESV)

Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, “I am the light of the world.  Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”  John 8:12 (ESV)

newly purposed,

jana

I ask myself…

“Where Have I Been?”

the still small voice answers,

“Healing, jana, you have

been healing.”

“Oh, yes, thank you”, I say.

What relief to find myself here in these pages of jana’s three dresses.  The words in print give expression to the emotions locked inside.

Relief. Such relief to finally let go and write it all down.  Ten years is a long time to hold all of this.

The still small voice continues to prompt and probe my heart.  Scraps of paper scattered all over my home as I record all He is allowing me to see of myself and of Him, of this intimate relationship He and I have shared over this

Decade of Healing.

The pain is still there, the grief still palpable, tears actually come easier now, the longing for his return, his embrace, his gentle presence even stronger now than ever before.

Yet it has been ten years since he was taken from this world,

shouldn’t I be “over it” by now?

“No! No! No!”  I will not let this world dictate to me how I should grieve, or in what order, or on what timeline.

You can’t tie grief up into a nice little package with a pretty bow and present it to say,

“See it is all in here, nice and neat, safe from the world.”

Nope. Grief is messy, it is raw, it is ugly.

Grief is expressed uniquely, just as individuals are unique.

We are not given a script or how-to manual on how to cope and recover from the loss of a loved-one.  We just do it to the best of our ability, and if we are fortunate to know Christ, we lean on Him for understanding.

For me, Grief is private.  A private space  - sitting at My Redeemer’s Feet seeking His embrace, His still small voice, His comfort, His timeline.

Thank you, Father, for meeting me in the darkness and bringing me into the light.  May I honor you in these pages of jana’s three dresses.

newly purposed,

jana