I’m super excited to for today’s post. My über cool sister, Valerie Jones, is guest blogging this afternoon. She is a talented singer, musician, leader, writer, mom, wife, daughter & the best sister I can ask for (don’t tell her I wrote that!). I’m honored to be handing over my blog today to  someone who inspires me daily and is always there as my sounding board.

Be sure to visit Valerie at www.valerie-jones.com & follow her on Social Media.
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 Trust After Tragedy by Valerie Jones

We used to sit in the back of the classroom and scribble out the list. Only the top three answers in each category made the cut.  Who would you marry? Where would you live? What job would you have? How many kids will you have? Will you have pets? M-A-S-H was scratched across the top of the paper in big letters — M for mansion, A for apartment, S for shack, H for house. Then we’d count and cross off answers until only one remained in each category. And, there it was, a glimpse into our future. Oh, and — this is the best part — if we didn’t like our results, we could demand a do-over. I seriously loved that game; it was much more fun than pre-algebra! Maybe you didn’t play MASH, which is too bad; but, I bet you spent time thinking about your future, making plans, dreaming dreams, painting a beautifully perfect picture of what you hoped your life would look like. Anyone? Yeah, me too. But life is fickle and unpredictable, and that beautifully perfect picture can come crashing down in a million pieces in a single moment. You’re left wondering if it’s possible to salvage anything from the broken piece. Hopelessness settles in. There have been moments in my life exactly like that.  What about you?  Have you ever been standing in the middle of a million broken pieces wondering if there’s a way to trust a God again? I promise you, there is a way.

Let me give it to you from bird’s eye view.

Summer 1994 – Summer 1995:  I was 16 and pregnant. No one knew the details surrounding the pregnancy because I refused to tell. I was embarrassed and ashamed thinking it was my fault because I had not set healthy boundaries with my boyfriend. The funny thing about boundaries: if you don’t establish them up front, it becomes extremely hard to do so later. Then, you find yourself being forced to do something you don’t want to do. So, Tyler was born in the spring. I married a man I secretly resented in the summer and moved far away from home.

Late Fall 1995: I remember where I was standing when I received the phone call. I would have never imagined what was about to go down. Someone I barely knew drove me to the hospital. When I arrived I was whisked away to a room where I was told that my baby “didn’t make it”.  And the next thing I know, I’m staring down at my lifeless 8-month-old son. Tyler died of SIDS (sudden infant death syndrome). Pain pierced the deepest part of me. It was pure anguish. I wept and begged God to fix it. I don’t know how much time passed while I held him in that room, nor do I know how they convinced me to leave, but walking away from that hospital without my baby was one of the most difficult things I have ever had to do. Hands down. I limped along head down, heartbroken and confused. I was secretly angry with God. How could a loving, compassionate God not want to intervene? What did I do to deserve this? Has believing in God all these years done me any good at all? It simply wasn’t fair. There could be no good reason for it.

Summer 1996 – Winter 1997: I was expecting a new baby. I was sure this baby was a gift straight from heaven to help heal my still wounded heart. That seemed like a reasonable expectation. Of course, God would give me something to replace what He had taken from me. So, when it was time for the first ultrasound, I headed to the appointment unconcerned. But, it was bad news. My baby girl would be born with Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome and the prognosis was grim. Still, I refused to believe she would die; I fully expected God would save her life. This was not some great demonstration of faith. It was more of a God-you-owe-me-something-so-make-this-right kind of attitude. There was no way in my mind that He would allow me to lose another child. I thought if He loved me at all, He would want to do something. But, He didn’t do anything. Hayley died when she was 4-days old, and my already broken heart shattered into a million more pieces. I found myself in a full-blown crisis of faith, questioning everything I knew to be true about God.

Winter 1997 – Spring 1998: Grief is a funny thing. It grabs hold of you; the constant ache becomes more familiar than not. And, it changes you. Even still, I did the things a “good, Christian girl” was supposed to do. The checklist was long — church, Bible reading, prayer, serving. But it was me just going through the motions. I was exhausted in every way.  My marriage, unhealthy even on it’s best day, was in shambles. I finally got tired of faking my way through every day and ran away. At this point, I couldn’t say that I really loved God with my whole heart. I certainly couldn’t trust Him. How could I? I struggled constantly with believing God was good and these things were somehow meant for good. If this was His plan for my life, I wanted nothing to do with it. My pit was deep and dark—fear, doubt, and despair held me captive in my own personal hell. Bitterness gripped my heart and smothered out every ounce of hope. I hardly felt like a whole person.

Summer 1998 – Summer 2005: I landed in another relationship and eventually remarried, still broken and wounded. We had two beautiful kiddos. Being a mom was hard because of the constant fear that something terrible would happen to my kids. I used to sleep on the floor next to my daughter’s crib to make sure she was breathing through the night. All this time, I was still running from God—hiding, refusing to acknowledge Him. I bounced around from church to church never landing anywhere for long. My new husband called himself an agnostic, so that became an excuse for my rebellion and made it easier to ignore the truth. Things were ok for a while. Calm and predictable, at least. But, pornography, infidelity, and a host of other things led to another failed marriage. I remember sitting alone in a new home, with the little ones in bed, sobbing aloud in the empty room, This is not what my life was supposed to look like! And, although there was never a moment when I questioned that God was God, I did question His integrity and His character. God had failed to meet my expectations. So even though I claimed to know Him, I didn’t really believe Him. I didn’t believe that He was who He said He was, or that He would do what He said He could do. Instead, to me, God was far away, inaccessible, and unconcerned with my heart and with my pain. After all, He had abandoned me when I most needed Him — more than once.

Winter 2005 – Spring 2006: God hadn’t abandoned me. No, He had always been there, and He knew exactly what needed to happen next so that He could grab hold of my heart and lift me out of my pit. It started with a phone call. My mom called and invited me to church. Much to my surprise, I said yes. I resolved that I wouldn’t engage; I’d just show up and then leave. I was still quite angry with God. God, however, was patiently and gently pursuing me. Finally, I gave up. No more running. I was so tired of fighting and being angry. I stopped demanding answers from God and landed in a place where all I wanted was Him.  Did you catch that? I stopped demanding answers and He became the one desire of my heart. That was huge. It wasn’t long before He began to break down walls and heal broken places in my heart. He did that through His Word and worship. I poured over the book of Psalms marking every reference to God’s character and unfailing love. I prayed them aloud, sang them, and meditated on them. It was also about this time that I really began to grasp the depth of God’s love. It became clearer to me one evening as I watched The Passion of the Christ. It was the first time I’d seen the movie, and I will never forget it. As I watched the scenes of the crucifixion, God gently reminded me, “That’s how much I love you.” Having lost two children of my own, I cannot begin to imagine willingly handing them over to be mocked, brutally beaten and then crucified. The words I had so often recited in John 3 took on new meaning. For God so loved, that He gave His only son. I was staring into the face of unfathomable love. A love that freely and lavishly gives everything. It still overwhelms me.

So after all of that, what’s a girl left to think? Well, here’s where I landed.

1. A proper perspective of God enables proper perspective of everything else. Where does that perspective come from? It comes from the truth of Scripture. As God was healing my broken, wounded heart, He was also healing my perspective. He reminded me through His Word who He is. He cannot be defined by tragedy, by my pain, or by my anger. He is an unchanging and faithful God. No. Matter. What. And another thing, God is not surprised by the unexpected things that happen in my life. He gives us permission to feel the pain, to ask questions, to grieve. He’s not intimidated by our doubt or fear.  What we do with our pain, doubt, fear, and our questions is what concerns Him. We have to bring the deep places of our soul and lay them wide open before Him with brutal honesty. There is nothing I can say to Him that could catch Him off guard. God didn’t love me any less because I was angry with Him. Not at all. He is familiar with heartache and understands our hearts even better than we do. And, He will never leave you hanging. Never.

2. My story is His story. I used to be very protective of my story. Inevitably, there’s a certain amount of vulnerability in telling your story, and that vulnerability is uncomfortable. But, ultimately, this story is His because my life is His. When I give my story back to Him, He takes it and uses it for His glory. That’s the takeaway here. My story paints a picture of God’s relentless love and unfathomable grace. It proves that hope endures through tragedy. See, it’s not all about me. It’s all about Him.

3. Healing comes because we choose it. We have to actively invite God into the brokenness of our lives with vulnerability and trust. The process is painful, but He is faithful in the process. He is strong when we are not. He quiets the soul with unexplainable peace when we let Him.

Sometimes, we choose to reject God’s healing because we believe that we’ve earned the right to carry around the hurt and pain. We grab hold of our wounds so tightly that we allow them to define us. But that makes us bitter and angry. Yeah, that’s what I did. But, when we choose to trust Him through our pain, we find out that God has our best interest firmly in hand in every situation, and He is always working on our behalf. Yes, God has allowed things to happen in my life that I may never fully understand. But, I do understand this: nothing is wasted. Every situation that God allows in my life, He will use. He will use it to reveal something about Himself, to demonstrate His character.  Why? Because. . .

4. Above all, He wants us to know Him. That’s what He’s wanted from the beginning of time. He wants us to know His faithfulness and to be in awe of His lavish, unfailing love. Hope, joy, and healing are only found in Him. I have learned to cling to Him with all my heart, mind, and strength, knowing and believing that truth. And now, my life is a picture of His grace and redeeming love. My life is good. I have a godly husband, three beautiful children, and a lovely home.  But, I also have the incomparable hope that comes from knowing that the Creator of the universe knows my name and sees me right where I am every moment. Everything else pales in comparison to knowing that.

5. You are in a dangerous spot when your trust in God is tied to the wrong thing. My trust used to be tied to my ability to be good. If I did the right things, I expected my life would be free from struggle and adversity. See, it had everything to do with that beautifully perfect picture.  If I behaved and followed all the rules, then my picture would be beautiful and perfect. But now? Now, my trust is anchored in the truth of who God is and in the hope of what Christ has done. That’s what happens when you love Him more than your beautifully perfect picture. There is nothing like walking through piles of broken pieces watching God clean them all up and use them to make something beautiful. He walks ahead of us, and He knows exactly what He’s doing. It nearly makes my heart explode with gratitude.

See, God hadn’t let me down at all. He was always there, as close as my next breath. I just didn’t recognize Him. Now I do. Here’s the thing: If all of these moments were necessary so that I could know Him like I do now and so that I could experience the power of His unfailing love like I have, then it’s ok. Because I am His and He is mine. That is my beautifully perfect picture. It’s Him. He is my prize.

May I encourage you today sweet friends? When He says He will never leave us, He means that. When He says He has a plan, He means that. And when He calls us His own sons and daughters, He means that, too. When He says He has us in the palm of His hand, He really does. Lean in a bit, because this part is important. He. Loves. You. If you are standing in the middle of a million broken pieces, grab hold of that truth and cling to it with all your might. That’s where you’ll trust— wrapped up in His perfect love.