Holy Hell

Never before have I been so thankful to see a New Year arrive. 

I'm not a super New-Year-celebrating kind of girl. I'm an introvert, a homebody, and someone who likes to be asleep at an embarrassingly early hour. Staying up and out late sounds like a lot of work, not a celebration. So here I am, on the couch, in comfy clothes, writing about this year. 

This. Year. 

It probably doesn't help that I'm in the "I'm suuuuuupppper angry my kids are dead," stage of grieving, but let's just call this year what it was . . . hell. 

This year was wave after wave and new, unknown level after new, unknown level of hell.

This year, I've watched humans treat other humans in unspeakable ways.

This year, I've seen the utter destruction that comes with living a lie.

This year, I watched the protector personality inside me fight and beg to be freed so as to unleash what Ray affectionately refers to as "Chisolm Justice" onto the world (Chisolm Justice, btw, is usually not what Christ would do and rarely ends well. Thus, thanks to my more grace-minded husband, it's almost always relegated to a bedroom ranting session. Seriously lucky I married a man who truly loves and follows The Way of Jesus). 

 

This year, I've said good-bye to two grandparents. 

This year, I've grown, birthed, and buried the two most precious baby girls in the world. 

This year, I've fought harder and lost greater than ever before. 

This year, I've felt the unending sorrow of a broken world, filled with broken people.

A pastor friend recently commented that Ray and I have seemed to have an unusually high amount of "crazy" come our way this year. 

This, of course, led to a late-night discussion. 

He's right. 

Why is that? 

Is it us? 

Do we welcome it? Attract it? Give off a secret, "come give us your crazy," scent?

Maybe we shouldn't wade with people so deeply into life?

Maybe our kitchen table shouldn't be a revolving door of college student therapy sessions?  

Maybe we shouldn't live quite so openly with our community,
but rather in a more surface-level kind of way?

Why expose ourselves, our family, our daughter, to the risk of another year like this one?

This. Year.

It could of destroyed us. It probably should have destroyed us. Our hearts, our minds, our emotions, our relationships, our marriage, our faith, our calling to the local Church. 

This year probably should have wiped us out.

But it hasn't. 

Why is that?

It probably helps that I'm in the "I've never felt this empty in my entire short-long life, please Great God, heal me," stage of grief, so let's call this year what is was . . . Holy. 

This year was moment after moment, breath after breath of 

Emmanuel, God has not abandoned us, Holy. 

This year, I've seen a community of Christ be brave and flexible as they heal from past pains and take-up their place in the body of Christ. 

This year, I've seen God pave the way to enable us to earn/raise $16,000 for an adoption. 

This year, I've witnessed people give "Father, forgive them, they know not what they do," 

kind grace and forgiveness. 

This year, I've watched incredibly brave people make the incredibly brave choice to live in the light. 

This year, I've experienced family walk through way too much death with endless grace. 

This year, I've seen the width and depth of the body of Christ, as thousands of people, many whom we will never know, walked with us through the last 7 weeks of Maggie and Ellen's lives.  

This year, I've enjoyed the closest friendships I've ever had, with brilliant, fun, spiritual women.

This year, I've stood in awe as my husband has taken each blow the last 12 months have shot at him with steadfast love, grace, and strength.

This year, I've known Holy in the midst of hell.

Why expose ourselves, our family, our daughter, to the risk of another year like this one? 

Because God is a God of love and love is a life of risks. 

Children are a risk. Ministry is a risk. Authentic relationships are a risk. 

Living in community is a risk. 

A life full of love is a life full of risks.

I'll be honest, I hope 2014 is a once-in-a-lifetime kind of year. The experiences and emotions I carry away from this year will keep me fully awake for some time to come. Nevertheless, if another year like this one comes my way, I hope I'll greet it with strength, courage, peace, and faith; 

knowing the risk is worth it and The Holy awaits.


Welcome, 2015.
Our God is with Us.
Emmanuel.