Making this mountain mine

Making this mountain mine

My introductory podcast.

Single men

 I'm listening to a book called The Insanity of Obedience. It cites an interesting statistic--single women outnumber single men on the mission field by seven to one.

As a newly single man this intrigues me. The author, Nik Ripken, suggests a number of explanations for this including the reality that men trained for and exploring full time ministry have options at home that women don't have.

But I have a thought. When I was a 30 something single man in church, leadership of that day treated me like I was weird. I believe I had the gifts and aptitude to be a contributor, and, with some mentorship the possible calling to leave the homeland behind and serve God elsewhere but it seemed the church of that time didn't know what to do with single people.

Well, here I am, single again and feeling hunger and longing.

So what lies ahead?

By the way no judging or bitterness involved just a reflection on the past.

Put the mountain behind you

 I have not posted in a long time. Over time, a long time, things develop and change--even in this called grief.

I named this blog Making This Mountain Mine because Faye's sudden, unexpected, death left me stranded in the death zone of a mountain--nothing to eat, no air to breathe but with a deep inner commitment to press on and to survive and maybe thrive again.

In my time of meditation and prayer I feel I've reached the time to declare this mountain is mine. It has been conquered by the grace and power and healing of God.

It is time to move on to conquer something new.

The children of Israel, in travelling from Egypt to their promised land would follow the cloud of God's presence. 

It seems it is time to follow the cloud.

I press on.

Tears

There's an old country song called If Teardrops Were Pennies. The chorus goes on to say if heartaches were gold.

Crying in the Rain is an old Everly Brothers song.

I've been thinking about tears of late. It's not that I've been crying a lot--I haven't but it does seem my heart is often moved to the point of tears.

The thing is--those tears, or near tears,  really aren't painful anymore.

I wouldn't even say they are healing--something else seems to be happening.

The Lord seems to be telling me to be unafraid of these tears. These are no longer tears coming from my grief.

They are tears for the pain and brokenness of others. I know that might sound strange or even weird but my new-found sensitivity is not for myself alone. I cry for a broken world and the broken people around me.

And as allow my heart to be tender I believe God is doing something--in me, of course--but for others as well.

And so I press on.

The sovereignty of God

I've reached a place where I can say life is hard but God is good. And I can also say I'm at peace with my life and with the sovereignty of God.

That doesn't take away from the pain of loss and grief but I know that under all of that is a God who is real, who is sovereign and who is good in all he does--even when I don't understand. And I'm not sure I'll ever fully understand the why of Faye dying suddenly on the morning of January 17, 2018. But I've released, or let go, of my need to understand.

Part of that understanding is letting go of Faye. She belongs, present tense, to God. She always belonged, past tense, to God. As important as she was to me she did not belong to me, for that matter, I did not belong to her, she belonged to God, her creator, the one who loved her from before her birth.

And I'm at peace with that.

And so I press on.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Life is changing

Grief is different for everybody. Relationships are different and grieving people are different--nobody is the same

For me, 27 months after losing Faye, I feel the vicissitudes of grief are levelling out.  I never go a day without thinking of my enthusiastic, energetic, friendly Faye. but I'm reading to live my life again.

I'm almost embarrassed to think I've more or less lost two years of my life but the past is the past--it is time to embrace the new.

Odd reminders

I've been binge watching a Discovery Channel program called Flying Wild Alaska.

It's about the Tweto family, who run Era Alaska, an airline serving rural areas of Alaska. I find it an absolutely fascinating glimpse at the challenges of running a particular business (in this case an airline).

But I also am drawn to it because of one of the daughters--Ariel.

I've been wondering why I find myself so drawn to her, other than the fact she's pretty. And I realize it's because she reminds me of my Faye.

That is, if Faye was an Eskimo (in Canada we say Inuit but she calls herself an Eskimo) and grew up in a family that ran an airline rather than a farm, and spent her early life in northern Alaska rather than Saskatchewan.

Here's how she reminds me of Faye:

She has endless energy, just like Faye, is a bundle of enthusiasm, just like Faye, she's extremely chatty, just like Faye, she is a super friendly extrovert, just like Faye, she likes hospitality, just like Faye, she likes stink flipper, well Faye never heard to stink flipper.
she's kind of innocent, just like Faye and she has a beautiful smile, just like my Faye. In fact she's pretty much always smiling, on the television program at least.

The only exception was an episode when she learned the younger brother of a friend had committed suicide, which is an all too common occurrence in Alaska's rural communities.

It's funny, the things that remind me of Faye--in this case a bubbly, chatty young woman with a perpetual smile.

It brings nothing but happiness to me, today, to be reminded of the things that made Faye special.

And I press on

Bruised but not broken

The pain is fading, in fact it has mostly disappeared.

The bruise, however, remains.

I've had a mental image of having a bruised heel. I'm thinking the experience of Jacob at the Ford of Jabbok.

Here's where I'm going with this. I may have a limp for the rest of my life. I may be marked for the rest of my life. In fact, how can I not be marked by the loss of my wife of 24 years.

But I am living again and that bruise will not defeat me, or hold me back or prevent from living my life with purpose and experiencing joy.

I'm bruised but not broken. I fact I truly believe I am stronger now in broken places. God is with me.

And I will press on I will run again, I declare that to be the truth.

Pressing on to my high calling.

Would she want me to be happy?

I've often had people tell me that Faye would want me to be happy. That's a nice sentiment, but would she? I don't know.

I'm firmly convinced Faye is more alive than ever. And, yes, I assume she would want me to be happy.

Does that offer me comfort? Not really. We can't communicate until the day we meet again, which, again, I'm firmly convinced will.

What does offer strength and comfort is my confidence in the sovereignty of God and the presence of His Holy Spirit.

John 15:11 says "I have told you this so that my joy may be in you and that your joy may be complete."

That's the thing, my joy and my strength are to be where they have always had to be--in the Lord.

I live to know Him and to love and to find my strength and satisfaction in Him.

And so I press on.

Forgetting what lies behind

One part of this verse refers to pressing on toward the goal to win the prize.

But another part refers to forgetting what lies behind and I think that is just as important.

What lies behind? Well, for one, the life I had with Faye. Missing the woman I spent 24 years is a normal and necessary part of grieving. I still miss her.

That life, however, is gone forever. I have to live a new life. Nostalgia is part of my life. Maybe it will always be part of my life. But I cannot, dare not, let it be a trap.

I have more life ahead. I fully intend to live that life to the best of my ability. I can't try to live in what I once had, that life is gone.

But here's another thing that I need to leave behind.
The last two years have been hard, I've had my moments of brain fog, I've made mistakes and there are things I should have been doing that I forgot to do. Call it grief, or call it mild depression my life is a bit of a mess--including doing virtually nothing by way of income producing activity.

Another example is the pounds of put on. I'm unhappy about that.

But things happen. The past is the past. I need to live today, that includes developing a productive and healthy life again.

There's another thing. Sometimes, things are said that can be hurtful during the worst times in a person's life. Fortunately I can't at the moment remember any. I want to leave it that. And remember the people who blessed me.

And so I press on.

Soli Deo Gloria

Life is war

To put it simply I agree with John Piper that life is war.

That's why God's people must be people of prayer.

Please don't think of this is as a negative point of view. In fact understanding this is part of not being derailed whenever hard times come. And it's part of experiencing joy.

Consistent, persistent, joy is not an accident, nor is it simply a matter of personality. Yes, some people are more inclined to gloom than others, or, to put it another way, some people are more inclined to be cheerful than others.

Having said that, there is a certain determination required to be consistently joyful--determination in guarding our hearts and minds against things that bring dismay. That can be difficult in a world in which so many people seem to be frightened

It also requires a determined focus on those things that help ground us in a healthy, joyful, mindset. In other words it is both a negative thing--knowing what things to refuse entry to your mind--and knowing what things to pursue.

I spoke in a previous blog about learning to concentrate on God as in Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. (Philippians 4:8)

And that is hard mental work. In fact, it could be called war.

https://youtu.be/cQuWMGtpLJs

Pressing on.

Ain't No Grave (LIVE) - Bethel Music & Molly Skaggs | VICTORY

Back to the basics

It's clear I will have to go back to the basics as I continue to fight to embrace, fully embrace, life again.

The basics were clear when Faye died, in the image of making it off my mountain top.

1) It will be an inch-by-inch, day-by-day struggle. Recovering, rebuilding my life and clearing up the accumulated mess of the last two years will take a daily walk.

A couple of months after Faye died I got a tattoo of a mountain, with the sun rising over the summit. The words are Inch by inch, day by day, I will make this mountain mine. Soli Deo Gloria. (Glory to God alone.)

I seem to have forgotten that concept.

Life is war. Life is also joy, but it is war and I will have to move forward, even if only in tiny increments every day. Every day. I will have to do the right things every day.

2) I will need to choose to live by faith, not fear, or discouragement, or depression, every day.

3) That will take a disciplined mind--focussing on God and His truth and keeping guard over my heart and mind. There are so many things that can bring defeat. It's time to be ruthless in guarding my mind.

4) It will take a commitment to thanksgiving and praise.

5) It will take disciplined action.

6) It will mean getting back to basics in how I take care of my body. Physical and spiritual health cannot be separated.

To the battle.

Soli Deo Gloria.

Thinking and grief

I mentioned a couple of days ago that I've been reading Timothy Keller's Walking With God Through Pain and Suffering.

I've finished the book and I'm thinking through some of the things Keller talks about.

One thing he talks about that makes much sense to me is the stress he places on Christians turning to The Bible, not for emotional comfort, but for solid biblical truth.

In other words, if I understand him correctly, he says we get the emotional strength to survive pain and sorrow, not from emotional comfort but from the solid truths of the Word of God.

In wrestling with the Word we come to greater understanding of God's character, his combination of sovereignty and tenderness and His love.

It's in truly understanding those things that they become part of the fabric of our lives and enable us to keep walking through the inevitable storms of life.

God is good; God is sovereign. Or to put it another way life is hard; God is good.

Pressing on in Him.

Soli Deo Gloria.

My aria

I haven't blogged for a long time, which might be an indication that I'm feeling better and that grief is no longer front and centre in my life anymore. There's truth to that but it could also be that I'm struggling with lack of discipline and procrastination. I had committed myself to doing this as a discipline, whether or not I have any readers.

So here I go again.

Timothy Keller, in his book Walking With God Through Pain and Suffering, tells of a man, whose wife left him. he had crippling legal expense, lost his high paying job, and had to raise his children as a single parent in a low-paying job.

This man, Greg, observed "how in the middle of many operas there was a 'sad and moving solo' in which the main character turned sorrow into something beautiful. Greg said:

This is my moment sing the aria. I don't want to, I don't want to have this chance, but it's here now, and what am I going to do about it? Am I going to rise to rise to the occasion?"

This quote deeply resonated with me.

In the death of my Faye I was given my moment to sing the aria--to bring beauty to the most painful experience of my life to the donor and glory of God.

My voice is a croaky, broken thing at times but I am determined to sing.

Soli deo Gloria.

Survival

I've just finished listening to the book Deep Survival: Who Lives, Who Dies and Why.

It's a fascinating examination of why some people survive wilderness accidents, while others don't. This isn't going to be a book review but one hint regarding the key to survival is that it's not about experience in the wilderness.

What I've been thinking about is the similarities between surviving getting lost in the wilderness or plane crash in the wilderness and surviving the loss of someone you love.

Wilderness survivors invariably accept their situation. They don't live in denial.   People who get lost have a strong temptation toward denial--saying they are fine, or the lodge is just over the hill that way.

Survivors acknowledge they are in trouble, possibly desperate trouble. I think, not seeking as a counsellor or a psychologist, that grievers need to get to the point of acceptance faster rather than slower. That's why I have always insisted on saying Faye died, as opposed to saying she passed away or some euphemism. Yes I believe in eternal life. But her body is dead, I will not see her again in this life.

And I admit to being lost without her. Life is not the same. And building a new life has been difficult.

Survivors take responsibility for their survival. They don't wait for someone to rescue them. They know that, when it comes down to it,  survival is up to them.

I think that applies to surviving grief. I have had lots of people reach out to me in my darkest times. I know there are people who love me and I am truly grateful for them.

But the reality is nobody can fill that aching hole in my heart. And I have had to face dark days alone. Rebuilding my life is between myself and God and His grace. Nobody but myself, with the help of God, can tend the flame in my heart. So I blame no one and ultimately cannot surrender to self pity.

Survivors see the beauty even in their fear and pain. People clinging to life on the side of a mountain have been known to see the beauty. It could be called glimpsing heaven from a seat in hell. People who don't have that perspective tend to die on their mountainsides.

I say that absolutely applies to my grief journey. I have to choose to see beauty whenever I can and to be grateful. Joy is available. Joy can be found. And I am grateful and I express gratitude every day.

Survivors chose to live and they are determined in that choice. People struggling to survive wilderness disasters actually often have a certain dual perspective of abandonment to never getting out alive but fighting for life as long they have breathe.

I choose to pursue life. I will know joy. And I will know new life again. I am determined. It may only be inch by inch and day by day but I will take that inch.

Soli Deo Gloria.