Last week, in the first message of our Joel series, we were reminded to return to the Lord when the enemy comes. The enemy had come upon the land of Judah in the form of wave upon wave of locusts, then drought, then fire. The people, the animals, and the land itself were devastated. The Lord encouraged the people to return to Him in the midst of the devastation-to turn to Him with fasting, weeping, and mourning, and to call out to Him.
I really appreciate the fact that in the returning there is not only permission, but there is encouragement to weep and mourn. I get frustrated with people who throw out spiritual platitudes during hard seasons–you know, the folks who say flippantly God works all things together for good, or similar things that feel dismissive and really aren’t helpful in the moment. God Himself was telling His people to weep and mourn. Feel it all. Acknowledge it all. It’s the only way to be truly authentic in any relationship, including our relationship with the Lord.
But after the weeping, the mourning, the lamenting, sometimes in the midst of the weeping, the mourning, and the lamenting, we move to remembering who God is and what He has done. In verses 2:19-20 God promises to send grain, new wine, and olive oil–enough to satisfy them fully, and to drive the horde of locusts far away from them.
Then, in verses 21-23 of chapter two, Joel interjects his own thoughts for a few verses-it’s as though he can’t contain himself and has to give his people a word of encouragement and hope, as he writes:
Surely He has done great things! Do not be afraid, land of Judah; be glad and rejoice. Surely the Lord has done great things! Do not be afraid, you wild animals, for the pastures and the wilderness are becoming green. The trees are bearing their fruit; the fig tree and the vine yield their riches. Be glad, people of Zion, rejoice in the Lord your God, for He has given you the autumn rains because He is faithful. He sends you abundant showers, both autumn and spring rains, as before.
Personally, when I read those verses, I think Joel is having an outburst of rejoicing. To rejoice means to have a sudden physical reaction–to spin, to circle, to dance. I love that in the middle of God’s narrative, all of a sudden Joel exclaims He has done great things!-–and he’s exclaiming it, not only to people, but to animals and land. I think he’s really excited, even jubilant as he remembers God’s faithfulness. Maybe he hopped up and did a little dance. It makes me smile to picture it.
One morning, a few years ago, I was taking a walk and pondering things. One of the things I was pondering was the opposite of the word remember–is it really forget?. (Weird, I know, but it’s what I do.) I had an aha! moment when I realized that the opposite of remember is not forget, it’s dismember. When we remember something, we connect ourselves to it again. Joel is connecting himself to God’s faithfulness, to the history of all that God has done in the past. He is no longer focused on the current devastation, he has instead reconnected with who God is and all that God has done, and it has led him to rejoice.
Last week I wrote about my season of “dismembering” myself from God for about ten years, which did not take me to good places. I don’t recommend that method in a storm. Re-membering leads to much better places.
In November of 2011 my world exploded and I was faced with a decision. How would I handle this devastation? Would I dis-member or re-member?
Four months prior to that explosion, I was sitting in my backyard praying over the unrest that I was feeling but couldn’t put my finger on, when a yellow swallowtail butterfly flew over my backyard fence and made a beeline straight toward me. As it came my way, in the depth of my being I heard the words, I see you. You are not alone. I had no idea in that moment how those words would become my lifeline.
There were a few more God sent encounters with yellow butterflies that summer. One landed on a potted plant right next to me in my sister in law’s back yard, one was in a large downtown area–not a plant in sight. We stepped out of our hotel onto a sidewalk, and the butterfly led us along. Each one reminded me of God’s words, I see you. You are not alone. Each time, I was in a place where I needed the reminder, still unaware of the explosion to come.
When November came, and I was thrust into the darkest season of my adult life, I spent many nights in a crumbled heap. However, this time I did not dismember myself from God. I remembered Him and He met me in my fasting, and weeping and mourning. I would come home from work, go to my bedroom and lie on the floor in the dark. I had no words, but as my “random” worship playlists would move from song to song, God, Himself sang over me. He saw me. I was not alone. I heard some songs for the very first time, such as Kari Jobe’s I Know You are For Me. I heard songs that I hadn’t heard for a very long time such as Paul Wilbur’s Dance With Me. (And I did–I stood up from the floor and danced with Jesus.) And I heard songs that met me right where I was and offered hope, like Bebo Norman’s We Fall Apart. Over and over, God met me in song lyrics.
And then, in His amazing way, in the throes of our Wyoming winter, God sent me a yellow butterfly. It was January. My dark season was still very dark. I could not determine my future and I desperately wanted out. I was praying for God to release me, to kill me to get me out of the pain, begging Him to take me home. In the middle of that dark place, I got a sweet letter from one of the children I sponsor through World Vision. Of course, she had no idea what was going on in my life-but she had drawn me a card and on it was a yellow butterfly. I laughed when I opened it–probably the first time I had laughed in two months. I am smiling even now as I tell you about it. I see you. You are not alone. It can still leave me speechless.
Rejoicing in the midst of devastation. Is it possible? Yes. It is possible. It doesn’t mean that you ignore your circumstances, it doesn’t mean that the pain will go away or that it won’t still be hard. It does mean that your focus shifts from your circumstances to your God. It does mean that you look for Him everywhere. It does mean that you connect to Him; remember Him. He is the God who meets us where we are. He is the God who lifts us out of the slimy pit. He is the God who brings beauty from ashes, and sends us gifts of hope along the way. He is, after all…
The Lord your God who is with you, the Mighty One who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you with His love; He will exult over You with loud singing…(Zeph 3:17)
He is rejoicing over you. Rejoice in Him and remember….
“He is the God who brings beauty from ashes, and sends us gifts of hope along the way.”
Tears sting my eyes as I read Luanne’s portion and prepare to write my own… how deeply her story resonates within the chambers of my heart. Not because our stories are at all alike–but because we both have experienced the same fancy, gift-giving, loving God in the middle of our darkest days.
This morning–without warning–I was thrust into a few moments of remembering… I was going through a bag of paperwork that had been thrown together during our recent move. I was sorting school papers, coupons, lease information, etc… In the middle of all of the paper, I was surprised to find one of my gratitude journals. I have several, but this one is a special one–every line is filled. I opened it to a “random” page and found myself pulled back in time–into one of the most devastating seasons of my life. I’m so glad I kept naming gifts, that I continued to write them down during the darkest days, because the remembering now offers unexpected beauty. I want to share my remembering with you, the gifts I was grateful for during a heartbreaking season…
#562: Mom was able to come to church
#570: Realizing that “Holy Week” doesn’t come with any guarantees of holy days or holy moments–and it’s okay if days are hard
#595: Being able to walk and move freely–I’ll never take it for granted again
#625: The hard eucharisteo–Mom’s re-diagnosis. Nothing could’ve prepared me for today, but He is still here with me…
#627: Wonderful friends and family, support that is so needed
#630: She got her own hospital room–answered prayer!
#633: She’s not in pain for the first time in a while
#641: Worshiping hard in a hard time, soul connection to my Father
#658: So many friends who want to celebrate Mom
#667: So much love for Mom on her birthday–everyone showed up
#670: Great concert–Mom was there, and beaming
#694: Beautiful waterfall–first time this year. She got to come and hear the water–even if all she could do was sit at the bottom of the trail
#729: A God who always knows what will be as we sit in the foggy now
#737: Friends that cry with me AND cheer me on
#772: Laughs with Mom before bed, all of us smiling
#778: Sweet husband taking care of Mom’s coffee before I wake up
#780: Mom’s going fishing with us…making memories
#782: Time to love well…as long as God gives us
#783: Looking at old photos on Mom’s bed with her
#784: Sean and Dani made it in time
#785: Laughing with Mom, the 4 of us kids, late into the night
#787: We were with her at the end, loving her, peaceful
#788: She’s with Jesus, free and full of life…and BREATH…
#789: Waking, and smiling at memories through the tears
#792: Long, sad embraces and the hope of all of our future homecomings
#801: Waking up and feeling okay…the sense of loss isn’t as crushing today
#816: Blue jay out my window this morning
#818: Long, tearful, healing talks with a friend of my heart
#847: Memories so vivid my heart aches
#848: The time I did have…so grateful that mine and Mom’s days intertwined for the time we had
#870: A huge heart-shaped leaf placed in my path
#875: A dream–cuddled up with Mom, talking with her, hearing her voice again
All of these “gifts” were recorded over a few short months. There are many in between the ones I listed that aren’t connected to my mom, her illness, or her death. But all of these were gifts I was given in the midst of the season that was breaking my heart. As I read through these this morning, I wept. Loudly. My eyes are full again now… Reading any one of the gifts I shared with you takes me back to that day, that moment. I didn’t mean to jump back into these days today. It wasn’t part of my plan at all. I hadn’t yet read any of Luanne’s words. But I don’t believe it was a coincidence that I found that journal today. Or that Luanne chose to share about her yellow butterfly gifts…
God gave me gifts during my hard season, too. I didn’t get butterflies–I got blue jays, a heart-shaped leaf, and writing in the clouds. The clouds and the leaf were one time gifts. But the blue jays… they came over and over again. They still come, over 4 years later. And always when I need them most. They are God’s little whisper to my soul. His answer to the silent, hidden cries of my heart that no one else hears. And there’s nothing you could say that would convince me otherwise…
I am so grateful for the gift of remembering. So grateful that I can reconnect to all of the yesterdays and all of the joy and grief that they contain. The remembering can trigger deep wells of grief. Hard questions can resurface as memories flood your consciousness. But remembering is also where I can most clearly see the evidence of God’s hand, of His Presence with me in the dark. It’s often hard to sense Him in the moment, when the chaos is swirling and the clamor of life drowns out His voice. But He is easy to see in the looking back. Joel obviously knew that. He and his people may not have seen God in the middle of the circumstances they found themselves in, in the face of crushing loss and utter devastation. So Joel reminds them of who their God is. He encourages them to remember. And as He does, joy floods his soul and it spills out of him.
Rejoicing… dancing… these are the unexpected gifts of remembering. The dance is often one of grief AND gratitude, joy AND pain, because these things are not mutually exclusive. They exist together. Like Perfect God AND imperfect me, or imperfect you… What is essential is staying connected to the God of yesterday, today, and tomorrow, looking for Him everywhere and taking the time to look back when our hope is running out. Because…
“He is the God who brings beauty from ashes, and sends us gifts of hope along the way.”