perfect peace

The crystal clear Metolius is a spring-fed wild and scenic river. 

Photo credit John Hutmacher

I've heard it said by a pretty prominent woman of faith that, "Peace is not the absence of trouble, but the presence of Christ." (Sheila Walsh)

This sentiment encapsulates this chapter from A Tale of Mending really well.

Have you ever asked yourself who or what God is for you? My counselor did, and it stopped me in my tracks. I was stuck in a place of fear, forgetting how to trust a sovereign God. My mind knew He was worthy of trust, but my heart needed reminding of how He had proven His character to me time and again. Time and again. Time and again.

I recently had a friend share with me that this chapter stuck out to her. She's got a struggle. That struggle keeps her up at nights, and this thought of asking God to be something for you struck a chord.

God already was what I needed him to be. He is for all of us. I needed Him to be a light in my dark night. He wasn't literally behind my bathroom door flipping on the light switch in comfort, but His Spirit that dwelt within me was completely there. He was the light in my dark night. My dark night of infertility and miscarriage wanted to be the very death of me, but it wasn't.

God introduced me to the peace that comes from letting go of fear. I was so very fearful because of some extremely real and debilitating loss in my life. When you lose one thing, like your keys, you search for them. Maybe you find them, and you let it go, you shrug your shoulders at your absent minded behavior and move on. When you lose a child, or the hope of a child, something else happens. Your heart shatters. Certain foundations you've believed in can become shaken. You start to grip on to anything around you that seems firm. When those things don't remain firm you flounder, you begin to sink. When you lose multiple children to miscarriage, well let's just say it gets pretty dark. But then, for me, God let the light break through in the form of a loving husband, a listening pastor's ear, and ultimately a grief counselor who helped me remember who God is - who He had been for me all along.  I let the power of His Spirit, the power that raised Christ from the dead, (you know, THAT one) expel that fear. The fear that wanted me to believe I would never mother a child, slowly slipped away and was replaced with peace. I had peace like a river in my soul, joy like a fountain, and love like an ocean. That old Sunday School song was more real to me than it ever had been.

Thank you Jesus for those experiences. You revealed to me so many truths in those days. Bless the readers of A Tale of Mending, and this very blog post. Lift them from the miry pit they may find themselves and give them a firm place to stand. Amen.

Broken Heart decided to leave the light on in the bathroom adjoining her bedroom that night. As she crawled in bed, Beloved reached to cuddle with her as he always did before nodding off to sleep. He seemed to understand without any explanation her need for the source of light.

Just then, it was as if a floodlight was turned on in her mind. Instead of Raw Fear’s presence it was another entity with which she was much less familiar. Peace. She flowed in at first like a river, and then as if a dam had broken, Broken Heart’s mind was filled with Perfect Peace.

Standing just on the other side of the bathroom door, One True and Loving Heart smiled.

“The Lord sits enthroned over the flood; the Lord is 

enthroned as King forever. 

The Lord gives strength to his people; the Lord 

blesses his people with peace.” 

Psalm 29:10-11