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Redeemed

A few days ago, I was running errands and heard the song, Redeemed, by Big Daddy Weave, start playing on my radio.

As the lyrics were sung by this gifted artist, I found my soul singing along, connecting the words of the songwriter with the story of Easter, when we celebrate the risen Christ.

This isn’t just a story for Easter, though.

This is my daily story…it is every human’s story…because Jesus died on the cross for EVERY person’s sins.

It is by God’s Spirit, once we accept the work of Jesus on the cross, that we are changed from our old selves into new creatures.

The most amazing part of it all is that we can do NOTHING to earn this gift.

It is freely given.

We can’t buy our way to redemption.

We can’t do enough good deeds to cover the sacrifice of the innocent offering that Jesus became when He was nailed to the cross.

We are not good in and of ourselves.

It is only through God’s grace, his unmerited favor, that He offers salvation.

If this doesn’t bring tears of thankfulness to your eyes, I don’t know what will.

Celebrate with your family today.

Then, carry your praise with you each day after that.


“Redeemed”

Seems like all I could see was the struggle
Haunted by ghosts that lived in my past
Bound up in shackles of all my failures
Wondering how long is this gonna last
Then You look at this prisoner and say to me “son
Stop fighting a fight it’s already been won”

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I’ll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, now I’m not who I used to be
I am redeemed, I’m redeemed

All my life I have been called unworthy
Named by the voice of my shame and regret
But when I hear You whisper, “Child lift up your head”
I remember, oh God, You’re not done with me yet

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I’ll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, now I’m not who I used to be

Because I don’t have to be the old man inside of me
‘Cause his day is long dead and gone
Because I’ve got a new name, a new life, I’m not the same
And a hope that will carry me home

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I’ll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, ’cause I’m not who I used to be

I am redeemed, You set me free
So I’ll shake off these heavy chains
Wipe away every stain, yeah, I’m not who I used to be
Oh, God, I’m not who I used to be
Jesus, I’m not who I used to be
‘Cause I am redeemed
Thank God, redeemed

The Best Gift

Today is my 45th birthday.

The best gift I received, not disparaging those gifted by others, was a phone call.

A 7am phone call.

From my mom.

She had no clue what day of the week it was.  Her stay in the hospital robbed her of her ability to distinguish between actual days (Monday, Tuesday, etc.).  The same thing happens to me during summer vacation when I’m home for two months straight.

She did, however, know the date…my birthday.

She apologized for not sending a card.

This is coming from the woman who, two days prior, was beginning her thirteenth day in the hospital…after a brain aneurysm.

I told her, nearly in tears, that she was giving me the best gift possible…a phone call…from a woman whose life was spared.

We had a lovely chat; her voice sounded stronger than it had the day before.

She’s discovering what her limits are (walking around Walmart without the aid of a motorized wheelchair or walker is out of the question).

She’s experiencing new aches and pains as her body continues to heal.

Still…she’s alive.

After we hung up, I got ready for church.

At church, one of the songs we sang was Amazing Grace / My Chains are Gone.

This song always brings me to tears but especially so today.

God is so merciful.  His plans are perfect.

I do not know why He does what He does…spares some people pain and not others.

I’m not brave enough to question why.

All I know is that I continue to be grateful for ALL of His gifts…today being that of my mom’s life.

Thank you for the well-wishes on Facebook, Ravelry, and via text messages.  My heart is full of joy.

The Beauty of Imperfection

I’m currently about two-thirds of the way through Perfect Escape by one of my favorite young adult writers, Jennifer Brown.

This book tells the story of Kendra, a high school senior, who whisks her brother, Grayson, away on a road trip.

It’s no ordinary road trip, though, because Kendra is running away from trouble at school.

She tries to justify the trip in her mind by claiming that she’s on a mission to help her brother, who is mentally ill because of his OCD.

One of the things Grayson does when he’s under stress is to line up rocks and count them.

Rocks are his fascination, and I was struck by a comment he made to Rena, a young mom who joins in on their road trip.

She asks Grayson why a particular piece of quartz is colorless while other pieces have various colors.

He explains that pure quartz is colorless, and that is is chemical imperfections that leads to quartz becoming colored.

Then he says, “Quartz is at its most beautiful when it’s been changed by impurities.”

Go ahead and re-read it.  I bolded it because it’s a very poignant statement.

I had to pause in my reading, so I’m not sure how the author is going to use this statement of his.

I sure can see deep meaning in this sentence.

The first thing I thought about was my students.

They are certainly not perfect (none of us are).

Their lives are dirtied up by terribly dysfunctional home lives, terrible personal choices, and temptations to make more poor decisions.

These are the students who walk into my classroom.

These are the things that make them beautiful in my eyes.

These are my favorites precisely because of their imperfections.

I find even deeper meaning in Grayson’s words, though, by thinking about our lives as sinners.

Boy are we imperfect, aren’t we?

In God’s eyes, though, we are beautiful and worthy of His love.

He sent Jesus, His Son, to die for imperfect beings.

How humbling is that?!

I think back to when the Mr. proposed to me and gave me my engagement ring.

I was in college and enrolled in a science class that had a lab.  One lab day, we had to work with the microscopes, and I put my ring beneath the viewer.  We marveled because the diamond was nearly flawless.

I wonder how many people purposely select diamonds with flaws?

Not many.  There’s an entire rating scale devoted to a diamond’s qualities, and big sales are made over the best gems.

When you look at Grayson’s statement again, you notice that he says that quartz is beautiful because it’s been changed by imperfections.

If you think about it, our imperfections make us who we are.  They add color to our lives.

What an interesting concept and such a neat way of looking at and accepting my own imperfections…something that’s very tough for a perfectionist like myself.

I am beautiful…

Because of my imperfections.

The Joy of Serving

My church has made the commitment to feed the hungry downtown one Thursday a month.  Different groups in our church sign up to prepare and serve dinner to a minimum of 100 needy individuals.

My small group took its turn last Thursday.

I’ll admit to a bit of trepidation at such a daunting task.

Over lunch last Sunday, we firmed up our plans.  There were a number of trips made to Sam’s Club for supplies…

David, my friend Barb’s husband, and one of our small group leaders, Tracy, met at the church around 2:15 and began preparing the sauce.  I got there at 3.  Others slowly drifted in after they got off of work, and we also enlisted the assistance of Barb and David’s son and Tracy’s daughter (they are engaged, by the way).

David prepared twenty-five pounds of meat for the sauce, adding his secret blend of spices to the mix.

He and Jim, another of our small group members, cooked up thirty pounds of spaghetti.

I opened the packages of noodles for David.  Please be impressed with my kitchen skillz.

LOL.

Tracy proved to be the master of the garbage disposal/rinsing station.

We all have our special talents, you see.

It didn’t seem like long before everything was ready, and we loaded up our vehicles and headed downtown.

As we pulled into the parking lot, something stirred in my heart because, in front of me, was a line of people waiting for our arrival.

I’ve got a confession to make.

I’ve led a somewhat sheltered life.

The blinders are slowly being removed though…every year more come off as I teach the neediest of children in the direst of situations.

Still, looking at the people in that line and knowing that we were providing what would likely be their only meal of the day…perhaps their best meal of the week…well, I just don’t know that words can adequately describe exactly what I was feeling.

We had a lot of help setting up our table, and each member of our group assumed a spot from which to serve.

Before we began, though, Tracy spoke to the group of people, serving up the most satisfying food they would inhale that day…God’s Word.

A special thanks to this amazing man.  Tracy and his wife have been godsends to the Mr. and me.  They repeatedly invited us to their small group late last Spring.  I didn’t really want to go because I’m painfully shy sometimes, but Tracy continued to find me at church, hug me, and make me feel loved.

That’s just who he is, and his wife, Lisa, is the same way.

After the devotion and blessing, we began.

This is when the fun commenced!

I know that sounds strange, but honestly, that’s what it was…fun!

As each person came through the line, I heard my friends, Jeannie and Barbara, both literacy coaches in my district and some of my biggest supports (not to mention mentors to me), interact in their sweet Southern way with each person as they served up the salad and dressing.

The Mr. and I served the spaghetti.  As each person stood in front of me, I greeted him/her as I would any of my students…looked the person in the eyes…and asked how he/she was.

Some looked surprised to be acknowledged so personally.  I noticed that people would stand up straighter after looking me in the eye.

We passed the plates down to Lisa and others serving up the bread, cookies, and drinks.

We didn’t skimp on portions, and the people in this group seemed genuinely surprised.

We had so much food that we encouraged them to come back through our line for seconds and thirds.

We began making to-go boxes for them.

We even served up spaghetti to the cutest puppy ever (don’t be judging).

Some of the members of our group interacted with the patrons as they ate.

It wasn’t long before the crowd began to disappear…where to, I have no idea.

We broke down the tables and made plans to go to dinner as a group.

We chose a Mexican restaurant.  I doubt I’ll be able to look at spaghetti for a while.  LOL!

Lisa took the leftover food to the Rescue Mission so more hungry souls could be fed.

First, though, we returned to the church to finish cleaning up and return the serving dishes and utensils to their proper homes.

We finally made it to dinner around 8:00.

The feeling was jubilant, and we analyzed things we could have done to make it better.

Overall, though, there was a feeling of joy.

We shared conversations we’d had with those we had served.

I cannot tell you what a bonding experience this was.

Over the last year and three months, I have grown to deeply care for those in my small group.

Each individual has his/her talents.  We celebrate each others’ triumphs and cry for one another when things aren’t so good.

I, who was hesitant to become a part of this group, do not know what I’d do without it.

They stretch me, as evidenced by our experience with feeding the hungry.

They pray for me, on a moment’s notice, as happened last week when I requested prayer when Chicky was interviewing for a new teaching position closer to her house.

Feeding the hungry was an extension of what we’ve been doing for each other for the last year…finding joy through being selfless.

It’s love in action, modeled by God Himself when He sent His Son.

Two Words

Yesterday morning I was up bright and early.  I had to go in for the first of two days of teacher training.

As is my routine when I’m getting ready in the morning, I turned on the radio.  I have it set to Family Life Radio, a Christian radio station.

The morning show is done by Peter and Shannyn, and one of the topics that came up was Shannyn’s family reunion that she had attended the week before.

She shared the story of one member of her very large, extended family…members of whom had traveled to the U.S. from many remote locations.  The particular family member she talked about was a young man…I think she said he was around the age of nine.  He’s deaf and can hear only the slightest sounds with the help of hearing aids.

She said that when they gathered together for a moment, he touched the cross she was wearing on her necklace.  He, too, was wearing a cross, and he said two words while pointing to them…”Same heart.”

Shannyn explained that these were the only two words he spoke the entire weekend.

They were profound, and my eyes filled with tears as Shannyn ended her story.

When you have a relationship with the Lord…when you believe in His Son, Jesus Christ, you enter into a family where the conversation doesn’t have to be filled with many words.  In fact, the love we share for our Lord transcends all languages because it stems from one place…the heart.

It’s such a simple concept but one that packs a powerful punch.

We Christians have the same heart, and it doesn’t matter where we live, what language we speak, or what cultural differences we have.

In the end, we speak the language of God’s love.

I doubt I’ll ever forget this touching lesson.

When Hope Takes Over

Tonight, as I read Reached, by Ally Condie (third in the Matched series), I was struck by the following paragraph:

If you let hope inside, it takes you over.  It feeds on your insides and uses your bones to climb and grow.  Eventually it becomes the thing that is your bones, that holds you together.  Holds you up until you don’t know how to live without it anymore.  To pull it out of you would kill you entirely.  (Chapter 22, Page 255)

I thought about Christina, the friend I blogged about yesterday…the friend whose husband is losing his battle with cancer.

My heart continues to ache for her as I receive updates.

I feel at a loss for words.

What do you say to a friend whose about to lose her life partner?

I want her to know how much God loves her and is there with her even now, when she is on the precipice of a cliff of sadness and pain?

When I read the above words from my book, I thought of Christina…how hope can be found in our heavenly Father.

He is the one sure thing she can count on.

He is with her, giving life to her bones when she doesn’t think she can go on…giving strength to her legs when she must walk a seemingly endless journey of sorrow.

I pray that she never loses her hope even when the darkest night befalls her, for God is ever-present and will not leave her.

Not Buying It

Last weekend, I began re-watching Lost.

Do you remember this series?

I sure did love it when it originally aired, and I sat, captivated, from the first episode through the final one.

I have sat, for hours, watching the episodes again and have, I think, finished through #14 of the first season.

I can feel my butt getting bigger from all of the couch-sitting I’m doing, but hey, I’ve been in desperate need of relaxation, and this is one of the ways I do it.  Plus, I can knit to my heart’s content.

Anyhoo…

It’s interesting when you watch something multiple times.  It’s similar to rereading a book.  You catch things you didn’t notice the first time around.  You’re able to focus on subtle themes.

The last couple of days, I’ve found myself drawn to the personal stories of each character.  If you’re not familiar with the series, each episode includes a survivor’s back story that explains the events that led up to that person’s arrival on the island.  The back story always has something to do with what he/she is currently experiencing on the island.

Now, allow me to switch gears a bit.  I promise to bring my different thoughts together.

In other areas of my life…

Every Friday night, the Mr. and I attend Small Group.  Our church has a bunch of different small groups that meet each week.  Each small group grows close as they work to draw closer to God through fellowship and discussion.

I’ve mentioned that my church is currently studying the book, Life’s Healing Choices:  Freedom From Your Hurts, Hang-ups, and Habits

This past Friday night, one of the questions we went around answering was something like, “What lies have you bought into and how have they affected you?”

Oh yeah.

There were crickets, let me tell you, for it was deep and required much thinking.

It was an easy question for me.  I have bought into so many lies that Satan hardly has to open up his mouth before I find myself consumed by his deception.

My desire to overachieve is a lie the evil one whispers in my ear.  He tells me that I won’t be accepted unless my lesson plans are perfect, my emails are grammar-free, and I’m at least a solid week ahead in planning.  This has frequently led me to stay up until 1 or 2am working.

Body image is another area in my life that is filled with lies.

I watched my mom struggle with her own body image…to the point where, I suspect, she was bulimic.  She was always dieting, frequently threw up after meals, and was forever exercising or chewing gum so she wouldn’t gain weight.

When I was a teenager, I used to go on starvation diets during the summer.  They never lasted long…probably not more than a day or two, but I wanted to be skinny.

The older I’m getting, the louder the whispering has gotten in my ear.

“You’ve got a roll of flab around your middle.”

“Delete that picture.  Your stomach looks pooched out in it.”

Overweight people sometimes act as if they’ve cornered the market on worrying about weight, but those of us who don’t struggle with that still carry our own anxieties…all brought about because of the lies the devil feeds us…through the media and peer pressure.

Another lie I bought into was that if I behaved perfectly, did everything I was supposed to do, my mom would love me as much as my sister.  This resulted in years of unfulfilled expectations and great, great angst.

As I’ve watched each episode of Lost this past week, I’ve empathized with each character.

Locke was told he would never be able to do anything because he was in a wheelchair.  The island gave him a fresh start with legs that weren’t paralyzed.  He was free from the lie he’d been told.

Charlie was told that he would never be able to take care of anyone else because he was a junkie pre-island life.  Meeting Claire helped him reinvent himself because she spoke the truth of his kindness to him.

Jack lived in the shadow of his successful, yet extremely dysfunctional alcoholic father and never felt he was loved.  It’s going to take the entire six seasons before he discovers the whopper of a tale his father had told him…that in fact, he was loved and appreciated.

For the characters in this show, the island becomes the catalyst for change in their hearts.

For me, God is that catalyst.

He doesn’t whisper the truth.  He proclaims it loudly from the empty cross, on which His Son selflessly sacrificed Himself.

Christ’s death tore the temple’s veil in half and removed the barrier between God and man.

What that means for me is that Satan has no hold over me.

His lies carry no weight.

They are worthless.

God’s love is priceless.

His grace is endless.

That is why I’m going to work hard to remind myself not to buy into whatever lies the devil tries to throw my way.

You Don’t Need to be Afraid

Saturday was a somewhat lazy day for me.  I’d woken up with the beginnings of a migraine thanks to an incoming storm system, so I laid low all day knitting and watching TV.

After cleaning up my DVR’d shows, I decided to look at Netflix, where I found The King’s Speech, a movie I had not, to date, seen yet.

As an avid history buff, this film appealed to me.  I’d taken two British history classes during my return to college, so I knew the topic matter of the movie would be right up my alley.

As I’m sure I’m probably one of the last people to see the movie, I’m sure you already know how amazing it is!

The story of Prince Albert/King George VI’s effort to overcome his stammering problem was incredibly heartbreaking and inspiring.

I watched a documentary about his life after the movie was over, mainly out of curiosity about how the real facts lined up with those detailed in the movie.

I wasn’t disappointed.

It’s not often when a movie makes me cry.  I am not ashamed to admit that this one led to a few tears.

I was especially touched by Lionel Logue’s therapy, which focused on the underlying issues that had originally led to the King’s stammer.

If you’ve seen the movie, you already know that the King endured a very strict upbringing, was mistreated by a nanny, was forced to write with his right hand instead of his left, which he was predisposed to, and grew up feeling unloved and unvalidated by his father.

It’s no wonder he stammered!  His stammering was a physical manifestation of the internal turmoil he had faced for years!

As Lionel worked with the King to prep him for one of his most famous speeches ever, the one he made as England was entering WWII, Lionel uttered words that struck a chord in my heart.

He said, “You don’t need to be afraid of the things you were afraid of when you were five.”

Those words made me cry.

My church is currently studying the book, Life’s Healing Choices.

It’s not a book study for the faint-of-heart because it requires asking yourself very difficult questions…digging deep to get to the root of the things that have led to hurts, habits, and hang-ups.

Lately, a few of my posts have dealt with some of my deepest hurts…those related to issues I’ve had with my mom.

During Friday’s small group meeting, I shared that my biggest worry is being rejected by my children.

Truth be told, rejection by others, in general, is a worry for me.

I think my worries go back to being rejected as a child.

When I reconciled with my father, years after he and my mom had divorced and when my children were in elementary school, he told me that a woman who had been taking care of my sister and me had tried to adopt us.  I don’t know/remember all of the details, but apparently my mom had taken us to her to care for us for awhile.  Ultimately, this woman, to whom I actually spoke with years later on the phone, was not able to adopt us.

Learning of this was terribly upsetting and added more baggage to the pile that had been growing ever since I was a child…when I could see my mom favoring my sister, her job, her friends, or her house over me.  This treatment continued into adulthood, which is why I finally quit speaking to her.

It’s hard to be rejected by someone who is supposed to love you.

The rejection I experienced from my mom has led me to close my heart off to many people around me.

The only people I fully give my heart to are my children.

For everyone else, I close off part of my heart to protect it.  I don’t love as fully as I should.

I suspect that a big reason why I am so anti-social is because I lack self-confidence.

When you are rejected, you blame yourself.

You don’t feel good enough to stand with others.

You become awkward, which makes everything even worse.

It becomes easier to be alone.

As the King’s stammer was his tangible manifestation of his hurts, my closed-off heart and inability to love and trust fully are the way I have dealt with the rejection I’ve experienced.

Watching the movie was a painful experience for me.  I know I can’t especially empathize with a member of royalty as far as the stresses of being groomed for that kind of position in society goes; however, I can relate to the human need for love and acceptance, which was so clearly missing in this man’s young life and, most likely, responsible for the speech impediment he suffered from.

Those words, “You don’t need to be afraid of the things you were afraid of when you were five,” echoed long after the scene had ended.

I don’t have to fear rejection any more.

I don’t have to worry about someone or something being placed as greater importance than me.

My mom has no hold over me any more.

I am a Daughter of the King.

He will never reject me.

I don’t have to prove my worth to him by keeping a clean house, starched shirts, or perfect lesson plans.

I don’t have to be a gifted orator or win teacher of the year (I would love to win the cruise that goes with this award though!).

All I have to do is allow God to love me…

To heal me…

To help me forget the hurts that tie me down to a past that is LONG OVER.

You’d think that at the age of 44, I’d quit rehashing this stuff, but I think that’s why people like me need to do these Bible studies…

Because there’s always more work to be done.

All praise be to God for His grace and patience as I continue to work on becoming more like Him.

 

A Garden Springing Up

The pastors at my church are currently working through a series of sermons based on the book, Life’s Healing Choices:  Freedom from your Hurts, Hangups, and Habits, by John Baker.

We are going over the study guides in our Small Groups.  The Mr. and I attend one that meets on Friday nights.  We’re up to chapter two.

I’ve been reading along on the Kindle version, and let me tell you, this is an emotionally-charged book.

It’s dredging up a lot of painful memories.  The questions are difficult, but to answer less than truthfully would be dishonest and would hinder my recovery process.

A big thing we’ve been covering the past two weeks is control…how we want to control the things in our lives but can’t.

This is difficult for me, a self-professed control freak.

The hardest part, though is going back and looking at the things I’ve been through that I had no control of.  It is those things that have led to the hurts, hangups, and habits in my life.

It is those things that have led me to lead a life full of various fears.

During last week’s Small Group, the question was asked, “What is your greatest fear?”

I didn’t share.  At the time, I couldn’t really pinpoint one main fear; however, now that a few days have passed, I think I know what my main fear is.

I fear that my children will reject me, despite my desperate and flawed attempts to be a good mother.

If you’ve been reading my blog long, you already know that my relationship with my mom is nonexistent.  The separation happened gradually, over the course of my entire life.  The final break, though, has occurred within the last year and a half.

She has hurt me so many times that I just couldn’t take any more.

Over the last twenty-seven years, the Mr. has had to help me pick up the pieces of my heart more times than I can count, and quite honestly, the Super Glue we’ve been using to patch up the cracks finally ran out.

Her life choices led to things happening to me that I couldn’t control and that I still suffer the affects from.

Last week, I got very frustrated during Small Group…not with my friends, but with the thoughts that were going through my head.

I got aggravated because of the injustice of it all.

I think it’s unfair that my mom’s failings have led to so much hurt in my own life…when I didn’t get to choose those things…things that no child should ever have to face.

Then, one of my friends gently reminded me that God used those things to make me who I am today.

True statement.

I reflected on my teaching…the way I am able to connect with children who come from homes where they are not properly taken care of…where they are neglected…where they don’t have a father, a mother, or sometimes neither parent.

I seriously doubt if I’d be able to empathize with my students had I not gone through the trials of my early life.

It’s funny (not the best choice of words) how you think you’re over something and, once you start digging, you realize that you’re not.

That’s the hangup part of the study.

As to my greatest fear?

Well, I just pray that my children will see that, despite the parenting mistakes I’ve made over the years, I do love them, try to be there for them, and do my best to treat them equally.

On Sunday, one of the songs we sang was Gungor’s Beautiful Things.

I’ve posted the video for this song before, but I thought I’d share it again because it fits the topic of this post so well.

As we sang, I am not ashamed to say that tears flowed from my eyes.  The truth of the words hit my heart pretty hard.

God does make beautiful things come up from old, tired, worn-out ground.

He can lay a plow to the ground, uproot all of the weeds and things we don’t see below the surface, and plant new, beautiful, fragrant flowers.

I will never, ever claim that it is my own efforts that get me through each struggle.

I know that I am not strong enough.

God is, though, and I am so thankful for His strong arms…for His wisdom…for His love…that see me through each challenge and turns my struggles into a beautiful new garden.

 

“Beautiful Things”

All this pain
I wonder if I’ll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

You make me new, You are making me new
You make me new, You are making me new

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

God’s Love Never Fails

This morning, we were treated to a praise band that usually plays at my church’s other campus.

The lead singer has a powerful voice…the kind of voice that could win American Idol, that’s for sure!

As I’ve shared before, music at church always moves me.  I honestly believe that I could sing during the praise time and leave, having had God speak to me in the way that only He can speak…that’s how much music touches my soul.

This morning, one of the songs we sang was One Thing Remains, by Kristian Stanfill (video at the end of this post).

As we moved through the lyrics, tears began to flow, despite my desperate attempts to hold them back.

Take a look at the lyrics…

One Thing Remains
Kristian Stanfill

Your love never fails, never gives up
Never runs out on me

Higher than the mountains that I face
Stronger than the power of the grave
Constant in the trial and the change
One thing remains

On and on and on and on it goes
It overwhelms and satisfies my soul
And I never, ever, have to be afraid
One thing remains

Your love never fails, never gives up
Never runs out on me

In death, in life
I’m confident and covered by the power of Your great love
My debt is paid
There’s nothing that can separate my heart from Your great love

What would make me cry?

It’s all about how I relate to this song.

We live in a world of inconsistencies.

People are your friends one day and ignore you the next.

Petty disagreements tear people apart.

People you think will be beside you walk away.

Personally, this hits home because of having a mother who was never truly there for me.

Sure, she provided a roof over my head and clothing.  Most of the time there was food, although I distinctly remember times when that basic need was not met.

She wasn’t there emotionally for me, though, and allowed/chose other people and things to be of greater importance than me.

I had inconsistent male figures in my life…a father who wasn’t allowed to be a part of my life, and a stepfather who had a warped sense of what fatherly love should look like.

I cried during this song because I teach kids who are in very similar situations, and my heart breaks every single day for them.

I want so desperately for my students to come to know the One who has stood by my side through every single trial I have faced.

God has been the constant in my life.

He has never played favorites and has never chosen to love one of His children more than me.

He never lets His work take precedence over my needs.

He is always there when I need Him.

I cried this morning because I was reminded of how great my heavenly Father is, and how I will never be able to thank Him enough for a love that never fails.