God Moving

I was just going to post an update and it got long winded.


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GOD MOVING


I woke up this morning....Think I woke up, but I'm not sure I slept. There I lay thinking I'd never move; that I had lost hope and then I looked up. God was still there holding me: causing me to breath every labored breath.

The world has turned and left me here....I'm still stumbling to get dressed. This new suit feels so awkward and unnatural. Do I really need this thing tied around my neck? It's mine to carry, but it is heavy, so I pass it on. God is still here carrying my baggage.

My eyes are open.... The day seems dark. It's hard to walk around because so many things are not were I left them. Like a thief has rummaged through my house and I just stood watching as he tried to take things of value. All I could grab in the dark was this old book. God is still lighting my path.

There is to much noise in the air around me.... It is to silent to think. I sit in the noisy silents until a friend reminds me to turn my music. It helps to hear praise in the storm. It gives me something to focus. I begin to meditate and consider all His might deeds. I hear His still small voice. God is still loudly working.

My heart is lifted up... This is so painful. There is a new hole in my heart that feels so immense that I can't imagine what will ever stop it's spread. This not a time for my imagination. I am firmly rooted in reality. God is filling every part of me.

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Hurting

Today was my father's memorial. It was a beautiful celebration of my father's life and legacy. There were many stories, many tears, many hugs and many old friends that I would love to see more often. I was especially moved by my brothers loving words. They made me once again proud of my father and of my big brother. He said what he needed to say as did I, but still the pain does not subside.

I have not stopped hurting, but it is a different kind hurt. One that creeps in when the business and noise of the day fades away and we are left with only our thoughts. The children are tucked in bed and Jen is asleep on the couch. I lay on a foam mat in my parent's living room, and this is so different.

It is different in that tonight when I walked into this house I did not make a bee line for my Dad's office to say hi and discuss life or sit down on the couch near his lay-z boy recliner to watch the game and discuss politics. It is different because I didn't hear the familiar and comforting "goodnight" and "I love you son", that would normally come down the hall as dad would shuffle off to bed.

It is different because to night there is no man of the house, but there are men of the house. You see I no longer enjoy the comfort of coming here and deferring to the man of the house. The man that I loved as father and friend has died and is now with Christ. My brother and I will not fight any longer for position in this house because we are now both the man of our own homes. He and I are not the boys we were growing up trying to make dad proud. We should have no question that he was proud of his boys. He was proud and with good reason. He instilled in us the very essence of what a man should be. I for one am proud that my brother, asleep in the next room, is my brother, and today he was my big brother.

So I have not stopped hurting, but it is a different kind hurt. After years of struggles this little family of ours had become everything we could hope for; no not perfect, but close enough. We had seen God's healing hand heal old wounds and open closed hearts. We had seen love and understanding that we had often thought impossible. And we said the things that needed to be said.

It is different because I am not angry at God for taking dad. I am thankful to God that we got to have dad here to see his family together. Thankful that we had the time to love and forgive. Thankful that lessons were learned and wisdom was passed on. Thankful that this last year we got to laugh and love and hope and dream together. After all how can you truly love with out the risk of loss. And how can you truly suffer loss if you never risked love. All this I know.

..... but I haven't stopped hurting, though it is a different hurt, and I'm not sure that I even comprehend it's full extent just yet. I'm not sure how long it will take or even how hard it will get. I am not God, and I don't question God right now. What I question is how anyone makes it through something like this with out God. After all I know God and talk with Him, yet as of right now I am barely able to breath, yet he keeps me breathing.

I am laying here waiting to hear my father say "goodnight, I love you son". And just before my heart faints in despair it comes. Not from down the hall, but from within my spirit. "Goodnight, I love you son.", my heavenly father says, " I love you, just as I love your dad. He is here with me and one day you will be too".

So today passes and tomorrow I will wait upon the Lord to renew my strength, but I haven't stopped hurting, though it is a different kind of hurt.

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NOT BRAVE

This one, written Monday morning before heading to the hospital, had been much more raw. Thank you Jen for helping me edit this into a readable form.



Not Brave

I am not brave; I am the farthest from it. I am a child in the night, clinging to covers pulled over my head--for that is were I am, over my head. All but consumed by Now, I have taken on water and The Now finds me jilted.

I am not brave; I am standing confused. Needing water to live, to thrive, but it is too much: too much grief, too much pain. A blinding tide, greater than all of me, but it is too much: too much grace, too much love: an outpouring greater than I’ve known.

I am not brave; I’m being poured out. Caught in the desire, wanting to walk on water yet, hearing the clash of thunder. Now feeling the spray of the waves, and too distracted, too overwhelmed. I begin losing sight and focus.

I am not brave; I’m in the struggle. Weighted at the point of saturation. Much more and I drown, or recoil to the extent that I grow dry, callous, and dead. Is it the desert or the sea? Am I to feel it all, or not at all?

I am not brave; I’m at my end. Thinking for a moment that I was capable and sure. Here is when I falter, now is when I stumble. Let he who thinks he stands be careful lest he falls.


I am not brave; I’m just here at such a time, in the tears and weeping. Startled by the shadow on the wall. Clinging to my comfort, my hand is weak and trembling. I look back into piercing eyes. The hand that grips mine is firm.


I am not brave; I am a child reaching up, not brave or strong or wise. My father’s hand is strong. He is bold and strong and wise. I hold my father’s hand; this is the hand that reached for me; that stops my reoccurring descent.


I am not brave; I have no need to be. I am not the power or force or strength. I am not the architect, creator, or sustainer. There is no need to be brave, for the hand I rest in cannot be shaken. This hand cannot be pried open, forced, loosened or persuaded to release.


I am not brave as it may at times appear. Don’t be mislead or deceived. Though I show bold actions in facing the challenge; stand strong under life’s attack, and move forward shedding fear. My father in the storm is clear. The Lord my God is here.


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www.neuenschwander.blogspot.com
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Kid Talk

I have been reminded how much my children love Grandpy.

I had to explain to Zoe why she wouldn't be able to play with grandpy anymore.

"Granpy's heart was so sick that he couldn't get fixed here on earth, but Grandpy new Jesus as his Savior so God took Grandy to heaven so he could totally fix him there."

Zoe then claimed she was really sick and needed to go with Grandpy, but we told her she would get better here with us. Then Jen and I explained that her friend Charlie would get better on earth too and she would see him again soon.

For those who don't know:

Zoe is 3 and a half.

Charlie, he is one of the guys in our HINGE young adult ministry and a good friend to us all. He is suffering with a disk problem in his back. We our praying for you Charlie!!!

Grandpy was my best friend and father, and he is greatly missed!

Now

Now we have passed the point of simply praying for healing.
It is the time to put knee to floor and face to ground and ask that we see a true miracle.

It is now when people will look to see whether we believe what we profess
Or if we like many others simply cling to a hollow straw man that collapses under life's pressure

Now is when we find out f we will succumb to the disparaging remarks of Job's wife.
Will we simply curse God and die.

It is now that little eyes will look to see if daddy truly believes in hope eternal
And whether or not his stories hold more substance for life then the colorful fairytale books

Now we can no longer sing our hymns of thanks with full stomach but detached heart
We have had our guts checked and our hearts wrenched back to true feeling.

It is now we will seek God's face, to feel His strength and know His comfort
And we will learn to let go of the unnecessary things we cling to.

Now before we reach our end when reason and love can be over taken by hopeless anger
Here is when we need to take a moment to pause and prepare for the unbearable.

Is it now that I will curse God because the system is broken
A system I understand that He did not create it so faulted

Now I take full responsibility for my part in this world so ravaged by the curse of sin
And thank the Creator that He did not abandon the rebellious this child

Is it right to curse God that gravity allows me to walk or that the sun causes plants to grow
Though I may bemoan the soreness of muscles and burn of skin.

Now is the time for the real hope to be praised for all that is truly given by a loving Father
In this life and in the life to come is not a promise of flowery words but of tangible power

It is power of life and power over death, it is hope eternal for the temporal plain.
Though there is pain, sorrow and grief there is also hope, faith and love.

Now is the time for us to praise the God who gives and takes away
In this time our souls can find wellness that comes only from the well of living water.

It is still hard to see a broken system taking only what belongs to it, only the flesh, only the shell
Though it threatens, rages and presses against the soul that it can't touch

Now the soul belongs to another and the Spirit gives it life
And my trust is in He who can touch the soul and body

It is His who has healed the spirit and He who can heal the flesh.
He who sees as grander design in all the chaos and pain

Now I understand that though everything happens for a reason
Sometimes it is reason enough to know we live in a broken world of our own making

It is more than enough to know the plan of escape has been laid
And the price of the trip has been past paid in blood.

Now is the time for tears, now is the time for grief
And the time for joy and love and faith and prayer and hope.

It is the temporary loss of fellowship and momentary separation
And the pain of knowing I must stay away from my true home though you may enter in.

Now is when people will look to see whether I truly believe what I profess
And they watch on and wonder how and what they will see

It is not my will that will be done no matter the outcome it is not by my power
So I hope and I pray that it is not my face they will see

Now I have passed the point of simply praying for healing.
It is time for me to put knee to floor and face to ground and ask to see a true miracle.

Is it now that my feeble flesh fixed to this ground will cry
And it is now when Father lifts my soul and mouth to proclaim my God on high


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My Fathers' Will To Live

How can I stand under the weight of life?

I do not understand the way of it all.

This grip that holds me up against the down.

Hands unseen that hold my life, my breath.

The God that formed me now keeps me formed.

My father who lays now in the bed of affliction.

A father no less in the hands of the Father.

This good Father who gives and takes away.

Will I praise Him only in the giving I enjoy?

To then curse Him when I don't so easily understand?

If my understanding were the limit of God, He is no god.

But I stand not in my self, but by grace.

My Father too has given my father grace.

This Father of grace holds my father in life.

And a gracious Father holds my father beyond death.

He gives and He takes away, blessed be His name!

In this name I pray, please Father give today.

For Your will not mine is not easy to live, once easily said.