You Have the Words: Who Do You Seek When You Need Reassurance?

Then Jesus said, “This is why I told you that no one can come to Me unless the Father has granted it to him.” From that time on many of His disciples turned back and no longer walked with Him. So Jesus asked the Twelve, “Do you want to leave too?” Simon Peter replied, “Lord, to whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that You are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:65–68, NIV)

Bad days, we all have them. Those mornings when we wake to face one dilemma after another, and then things continue to go wrong until we feel we just can’t go on. When I have those kinds of days, I turn to friends for comfort. I seek out friends who will offer words of encouragement and assurance that I will feel better.

In chapter six of the book of John, Jesus had fed the 5,000, walked on water, talked about being the bread of life, and garnered a large following. But then he talked about some things that bothered many. He said God is the one who gives the gift of submissive faith. His words were focused on the spiritual, not just the physical.

He said, “The words that I speak to you are spirit, and they are life.” (John 6: 63, NIV)

That’s when a number of his followers had had enough of Jesus. They walked away. Perhaps they realized he wasn’t going to overthrow the government or make them rich. We don’t know all of the reasons why they or why anyone chooses to step away from Jesus. The

words to eternal life When my son died, my season of deep sorrow caused me to wonder if following Jesus was too difficult. I had been a believer for decades, but losing a child knocked me down. I felt abandoned by Jesus. I wanted to leave my faith. Yet, where else was there to go? Peter’s response to Jesus’ question played inside my heart.

To whom would we go? You have the words of eternal life. Life — both now and for eternity. That’s what Jesus promised us. He is the Messiah. He is the son of the living God. He is one worthy of our praise. Th

rough his life, death, and resurrection, he became the logic of our universe. With the help of loving friends who listened to me in my anguish, I was able to grow in my faith. As my commitment to Jesus deepened, I knew that when we draw near to Jesus he draws near to us, providing, caring, loving, and never leaving. Hope in a chaotic world

Jesus calls us his friends and his disciples. He reassures us that he is the Holy One of God. As we take his words and write them on our hearts and minds, we learn to abide in him, looking to him for our daily needs. We discover that he’s trustworthy even in our darkest seasons. His words are the hope and reassurance we need in a chaotic world. Let’s pray

Holy One of God, please help us want to spend time in Your Word so that we can build our faith as we embrace all that you have for us, including eternal life. Amen.

First published on Medium.com.

Healing Ink: Writing Into Your Grief

When written words help us understand who we have become in our tragedy

A weeping willow tree, one flowery journal, two pens (in case one ran out of ink), and a box of Puffs tissues. Those objects stayed close beside me. In my early confusion over the loss of my son, these items never ignored my grief or told me to “get over it.”

When it grew too dark to see underneath the stringy weeping willow, I carried my pen and journal inside a house that seemed too empty, and wrote some more. At night, I woke to grapple with turmoil, with the noises in my head, the flashbacks of the cancer ward, the cries of my son. I wrote the ugly words “why?” and “how come?” before I could sleep again.

I scribbled through myths and cliches. I unleashed resentment and longing. I addressed prayers to God.

And, surprisingly, I discovered. Some of the confusion slid away, some of the guilt abandoned me. There was nothing I could have done to save my four-year-old’s life. Even my love had not been strong enough to destroy that infection that flared inside his tiny body. I was human and really not as in control as I wanted to believe. I would have to live with that.

I began to understand the new me. She was a tower of strength and compassion; she was tender and vulnerable, realistic, with just the right touch of cynicism. She needed protection from too many plastic smiles; she could not go long without a hug or sharing a story about a blue-eyed boy with an infectious laugh.

My written words healed me. And I jumped at the opportunity to tell others. I’d found comfort and clarity. I smiled at my husband and three young children, and at last, I didn’t want to run my van over the cliff; I wanted to smell the peonies and taste the salt from the ocean on my skin.

The beauty about grief-writing is that no one has to read it. You don’t have to worry about a teacher correcting your spelling or grammar. There’s no grade, no pass or fail. No one cares if your letters are sloppy. It’s written by you and for you. And, yes, it works.

Find a secluded place to write where you can think clearly without distraction.

Write, at first, for your eyes only. It doesn’t have to be shared with anyone.
Write to chart progress for you to read years down the road.

Write with the feeling, “I will survive this.”

Write to identify your emotions and feelings.

Write to help solve some of the new situations you must now face.

Think of your journal as a friend who never judges and who can never hurt you.

Write your spiritual struggles.

Write to rebuild your self-esteem and your self-confidence.

(From Down the Cereal Aisle: a basket of recipes and remembrances by Alice J. Wisler, Daniel’s House Publications, 2001) First published at https://www.opentohope.com.

The Simple Quiet

After he had dismissed them, he went up on a mountainside by himself to pray. Later that night, he was there alone . . . (Matthew 14:23, NIV)

When lockdowns happened with the Covid Pandemic, I went to the cemetery. There I walked the asphalt around the grounds, mothered my son's tiny grave, and prayed. I had sins to confess, and doubts to sort through.

Being without sin, Jesus had no need to ask for pardon, but he did know that he needed time with his father in Heaven. So he went away from the crowds, the loud noises, even the Temple. He went to the mountain to get away from the distractions so that he could focus solely on his time alone with God.

I call my time away at the cemetery, the simple quiet. During the Pandemic it was great to have a place that was meaningful to me where I could go. I never had to wear a mask. I never had to worry about getting the virus or giving it to anyone. The dead, are after all, protected from these things. As breezes blew over treetops and birds sang, I sat on a towel by my son's grave and enjoyed the calm solitude.

Find a place to pray away from distractions. Go to that spot where you can freely talk to God.



First published on Medium.com