Another confession. Another real conversation.

I used to think that joy was mostly a matter of perspective. I remember singing the lyrics “I choose joy!” with defiance (often) as I fought through the hard things in life. The morning before Kasper was born, I distinctly remember telling some of the ladies at a women’s breakfast that my babies didn’t come spontaneously, so he would be induced the upcoming Wednesday. Then I performed the choreography to For King and Country’s song “Joy” with some of “my” kids. Kasper was born the following morning in the wee hours- I had danced myself into labor (on my birthday!).

I digress. The fact is that every time I went to church, and every time I went to a church function, I remember choosing to smile and “faithing it till I made it” because I truly did feel better after I pasted the smile on and hugged everyone in the room. Also, that what was expected of me. Should my countenance have been about appeasing feelings and expectations? Was my soul purpose for church a dopamine hit- to feel good? My ignorance was part of a bigger problem. Feeling better (happy) was my idol. And because of my choice to worship this idol, I stayed in the shallower end of what God had available for me.

Can you relate?

God has something for us in the pit of pain and suffering, and it is deep. Sometimes it is a lesson easily figured out, while other times it is our proximity to Him, deepening our relationship with our Lord. Regardless, we dive to a depth that will otherwise be unattainable when we allow ourselves to sit in pain and lean into the Lord for the support that only He can offer.

Prior to the tragedy I allowed sadness space mostly within rigid confines. Often those spaces were during worship. Otherwise, I proudly (and speedily) worked through challenges and trials of many kinds because I could. I moved too fast to be able to soak in what He wanted for me to ingest during those seasons. Growth was rushed and I did not allow ample time to sink my roots in deeply (Have you ever seen a tree uprooted by the wind? Typically, the shallower rooted trees) I sometimes see myself in the character “Joy” in the movie “Inside Out”. She drew a circle of sadness to confine the character “Sadness” who she believed to be the cause of their problems. Spoiler alert, it didn’t work. (If you haven’t watched this movie yet I cannot recommend it enough!)

Did you catch how many times I just used the word “I” in the last paragraph? (6. 7 if you include “my”). My focus was not on the Lord, but my own comfort. Do you rush through sadness and pain too?

Post-tragedy I was still learning this lesson… my words ring in many of your hearts from that nearly viral worship video only 2 days after we lost almost everything. I said it’s “too awful for something good not to come of it”. These are appropriate words with an underlying accurate understanding of God’s promises. BUT, I remember wanting to speed up the process to get to that “something good” quicker. I remember wanting to rush through the pits of growth and come out shouting His glory on the other side. That is the action we’ve seen modeled and applauded- “You’re so strong!”. BUT, God used grief to make my rush impossible. He slowed me down and forced me to feel. In many respects, I’m still waiting. Still growing. Still crawling through all of what He has for me in this darkness. My words, “too awful” are still accurate, Romans 8:28 says so- “ALL things” work together for His good. BUT, we can’t jump to the end of a novel without learning all about the characters on the way there, can we? We have to make conscious effort not to try to skip past the hard part, not to try to skip the climb.

And now?

Carlos and I have struggled with church attendance post-tragedy. We know that no church is perfect. (Let’s face it, as soon as I walk through the door the scales tip in the other direction). We also know that it is important to gather as a family. Still, we cannot escape the notice that there is a consistent lack of space for lament (for sadness). This is not something that we, as Christians, do well. Most of us don’t even know what lament is (I didn’t). This is not a reflection on churches, but rather it is a theme across the body of Christ as a whole. We all play a role in this culture. I didn’t pay it much mind before my world upended. Looking back, I think I knew something felt plastic when we gathered, and I even fought against it sometimes, but I couldn’t have told you what I was fighting. Now, on the other side, I think differently, I want the space to cry out for all of the pain in my life. I want space to cry out for the pain in others’ lives too. I want to sit with others without saying anything in the solidarity of a knowing that we all go through awful things sometimes.

Within the 21st century western church setting, people desire church to feel good. We do what feels good in so many aspects of our lives that we often focus on our own happiness before His purposes and bigger plan. We don’t want to feel suffering, so we decide to put on happy worship to lift ourselves out of the pit of pain. We say and do things that encourage others to “choose joy”, but we look past the fact that pain produces purpose. Pain stretches us. Pain grows us. Our growth toward Jesus and our loving support of each other produces the fruit of true joy.

There are many references to God pruning His garden throughout the Bible. Pruning hurts. We are His garden. Who can better understand the process of pruning but the gardener who is responsible for our growth? While I do NOT believe He causes these traumatic events (insert your tragedy here), I do think that the facets of this broken world become tools in His hands for His greater purpose. Emotional pain is no exception. It will grow us in community if we let Him use it to do so.

Sadness and joy walk hand-in-hand. We can’t have one without the other. We can’t have Easter Sunday without the sadness of good Friday. We can’t feel the joy of love and comfort if we don’t know what it feels like NOT to have them. Dare I throw in a reference to appreciating the sunshine because of the rain? We have to make space for sadness or we can’t have joy- they’re a package deal. Clint Watkins puts this into words so well in his book “Just Be Honest”:

“We’re inclined to silence or suppress sadness thinking that engaging with the heartache will only deepen our despair. But scripture confronts both of these misconceptions. The wise do not skip past grief to gladness. Rather they know that grieving decongests the soul and opens it up to deeper joy “

and

“When you suffer, you might face pressure to choose between joy and sorrow. You may feel obligated towards joy because it seems like the faithful option. Or you might avoid rejoicing because you don’t want to dismiss the pain you feel. But the Bible does not force you to decide between the two. To grow in faith, it seems, is to increase in our capacity to hold sorrow and joy simultaneously.”

I now desire the depth that comes with simultaneously holding joy and sadness. I often feel separate when surrounded by other believers because (unintentionally) we have made church into a mostly happy zone- others do not want the same things as me. There are metaphorical “circles of sadness” that sufferers inhabit. This makes sharing more difficult. I’m sometimes looked up to as a famous grief giant (a title I never asked for) and other times I’m avoided due to intimidation. I assure you, “I’m just a nobody, tryin’ to tell everybody, all about somebody who saved my soul… I’m living for the world to see nobody but Jesus” (Nobody by casting crowns and Matthew West). By the way, He saved my kids’ souls too!

There are rare places (rare people really) when we get to share our pain. I am so so so grateful for them (You know who you are)! We leave each other’s presence feeling filled and refreshed. Will you choose to visit the painful places of your heart and allow the Holy Spirit to minister to you? I promise there are others looking to share your depth, but even (and especially) when people are not available, He ALWAYS is. “He MAKES me lie down in green pastures” (Psalm 23). He knows best the speed at which to travel through your pain allowing for both rest and growth. Ask Him and He will lead you beside still waters too.

I reread through this blog, and it sounded harsh. I want to assure you readers that I do not believe the ministry we participated in and led pre-tragedy was completely devoid of meaning and depth. If it was all a facade, we wouldn’t have responded by leaning so fully on Jesus. The people who surrounded us and loved us so well at that time (many of whom are still present) would not have leaned so fully into the Spirit’s leading either. We remain inherently grateful for God’s hand in our lives in preparation for the worst day of our lives.

In an encounter last winter, I was told by someone that I look up to “you don’t wear your grief” when she heard my story for the first time. I know this is true because people are often surprised when they learn the story of our KGR’s (our angel babies) after they have gotten to know us. They are surprised by that part of our identity.

We try so hard to wear the Lord and His goodness every single day- He is the core of our identity. You’ll still find me smiling most of the time. I still give out many more hugs than is the norm, and I say “I love you” to just about everyone I am blessed to spend time with. This might seem superficial, but I assure you that it is the exact opposite. I crawl through the depths on the daily. This causes me to appreciate more and have more joy. I still have a ton of fun and enjoy acting like a child (because I am a child). On the outside my most obvious change is time. If you watch closely though, you’ll notice that the joy wells up in my eyes because of its hand-held sadness. My eyes are wet more often than they are not as every single interaction reminds me of the ones that I can no longer have until I get to eternity (even those of the fallout of broken relationships). Exs. A beautiful arm wrapped hug from my twins reminds me that I no longer feel Kaleb’s arms. Kisses from Kyroo remind me of Kristian’s fish lips. Defiance reminds me of Kathryn’s set jaw. And dancing reminds me of Kasper. No emotional event is innocuous.

It took two weeks to post this because it is too complicated to explain- there has been a lot of editing. My purpose in writing this isn’t to fix the problem, and it isn’t to point fingers- the difficulties are so multifaceted that both of these would be impossibilities… My sole purpose is to educate about the “separate” people in our lives and congregations and to also to cause you to self-reflect.

I hope you read and reflect on this one a few times <3
Keep Going, Really!
-Markie