I don't want to write this post.
I wanted to end last year with healing, resolution, and confidence in my future.
Instead, I'm bringing in all of 2022's baggage into 2023.
I actually ended 2022 with a huge question mark.
So, I don't want to write this post.
I don't want to ring in the new year.
I don't want to think about new goals or new resolutions.
Because I still have plenty, too many, unresolved issues.
I don't want to write this post.
I have a fear of things not being tied up in pretty bows.
I can't call something finished if it has gaping holes, unattended wounds.
I can't start something else when there isn't anything else to begin.
So, I don't want to write this post.
Because I'm afraid I've lost something in the old year.
That I'm coming into the new one lacking.
I had hopes for healing.
Hopes for reconciliation.
Hopes for new foundations.
Hopes for answers.
And I didn't want to write this post
because I'm afraid I've lost my hope.
And I don't want to say that,
because that's not allowed.
As a pastor's kid, a pastor's wife, a christian, a mother...
I can't say that.
But I needed to write this post.
My health problems have tripled.
My mental state hasn't improved.
I yell at my kids for no reason.
I get upset with Husband for every reason.
My imperfections are magnified and made clear to me every hour of every day.
And when I feel this way, I'm reminded of what a younger, wiser Lauren wrote:
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(October 20, 2015)
"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrow, like sea billows, roll;
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
'it is well, it is well with my soul.'"
We take for granted the rivers until we're being tossed in the sea billows.
We're oblivious to the peace until the sorrow pours onto us.
The biggest lie the enemy uses against Christians is that we are promised a life of peace and when we are in a season of sorrow, it's our own faults. That if I'm a Christian (or worse, a pastor's wife) I'm not "allowed" to go through dark days. Or if I am going through sea billows, I have to keep my mask on while fighting for my life.
Can I just blast that lie and send right back where it belongs?
Friends, family, brothers and sisters,
it is not well with my soul.
But just as He taught me,
I will say, "it is well with my soul."
I will chant, "it is well."
I will weep, "it is well."
I will whisper, "it is well."
I will scream, "it is well with my soul."
Because in my sorrows, in the midst of fighting my sea billows, I cannot hear the truth. I am deaf to the truth. I am unable to save myself.
But because in my peace, in my rivers, I absorbed His truth, I hid His truth in my heart,
I can say, "it is well with my soul."
I may not believe it at first, as the waves crash down over me.
"It is well with my soul."
When I can barely keep my head above water,
"it is well with my soul."
When it is not well with my soul, I still have to SAY it.
I have to chant it.
I have to weep it.
I have to whisper it.
I have to scream it.
Because there's truth in those words. I'm suffocating in my sorrows, but He is still God. My soul is well because He won't leave me in these sea billows. Trials will come, but the clouds will be rolled back. I don't have to believe it in those first few moments, but the truth becomes an anthem in my heart and my sorrows become peace once again.
"When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrow, like sea billows, roll;
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
'it is well, it is well with my soul.'"
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I needed to write this post.
To mark this beginning.
"I don't have to believe it in those first few moments,
but the truth becomes an anthem in my heart
and my sorrows become peace once again."
