Thursday, December 16, 2010

Mover of Mountains

"I tell you the truth, if you have faith and do not doubt... you can say to this mountain 'throw yourself into the sea' and it will be done." - Matthew 21:21

Mountains thrown into the sea. How many times have we read that verse and taken it literally, that a mountain would be thrust into the sea at our command? How about metaphorically?

This time of silence has shown me a multitude of things, but one of the most powerful and precious pieces of this journey has been what the Lord has taught me through my prayers. Words are powerful. They have the ability to raise up or fully demolish others. They have the ability to destroy the attacks of the enemy. Our prayers have the power to make "mountains of difficulty seem as smooth as an asphalt road." That's because Christ give us the strength to face the adversities, the difficulties, the confusions of this life - and with Him by our side we can face anything.

In my own life these past months, those mountains have taken the shape of loneliness, silence, financial difficulty, homelessness, and loss. But these months have not only brought me difficulties and trials, but also some of those nearest and dearest to me. And it's in these months that, I believe, we were able to intercede for the other, to come before the thrown of grace "rejoicing with those who rejoice and mourning with those who mourn."

Loneliness. The companion of a girl in a new land... unsure of where she fits in, how she fits in, and with the realization that this whole moving thing wasn't going to be as "easy" as she had planned. But the loneliness brought reliance. Reliance on the One and Only as a constant companion.

Silence. In no way is silence an extrovert's best friend. It's disconcerting, it's a time where a slew of questions constantly floods through one's mind "are they mad at me? Did I do something wrong? Why am I so alone? And why does it seem you leave me when I need you the most?" But silence brought realization. Realization that though He's silent, He's still working.

Financial Difficulty. This world of ours loves one thing very much, too much really, and that's money. When money isn't coming in regularly and bills start to stack up something inside anyone's heart just goes "oh crap, what am I going to do?" But financial difficulty brought trust. Trust that He knows my needs and meets them, while weeding out the wants.

Homelessness. For a woman, outside of relationships lost, losing a home is one of the worst things that could happen. The uncertainty of where she'll be able to rest her head, where she can go for safety and comfort, her fortress - is quite overwhelming. The question of "why me?" seems to ravage one's heart in this situation. But the homelessness brought reality. The Reality is that home is where Christ is - the heart. It's not 4 walls and a bed, but a deep, steady chamber that leads to the soul.

Loss. Now there's a word with a reality that hurts to the core. Loss. This girl, in this season, not only lost a home, lost a job, but she also lost loved ones. I guess every season of life has some sort of loss, but this one seems to far outweigh the others. For in 9 months this little world was turned completely upside down. What once was easy, now became difficult. What once was joyful, now was riddled with pain. And the loss of life that came with it now hurts for the fog has lifted and these people are gone. This woman's uncle and grandfather died within a month of each other. One was sudden and surprising, for the other it was time. But it doesn't discount the fact that what's left now are memories of the men they were. Veteran. Firefighter. Elder. Builder. Father. Grandfather. Hero.

I could say this season was a walk in the park, but it surely wasn't. It was a season drowned in prayer, in desperation to Jesus, in constant conversations with the Lord of "why" and "how long?". The prayers turned to declarations for the good to come, destroying the camp the enemy had pitched for so long. These prayers moved mountains in my soul so that I could finally see with a clear view, what all He had for me. Those insurpassable mountains of difficulty have finally begun to look as clear as an asphalt road.

I praise God for this season, for this silence, this loneliness, this loss... for in the midst of the "stripping all I once held dear" I can now fully appreciate the "counting it all as lost."