Last Saturday, as I waited to board a flight to Seattle, a heartbreaking scene unfolded outside my gate entrance. Taking a last-minute call, my eyes beheld a young boy sobbing profusely as he clenched his father’s jacket. Processing the scene, it wasn’t long before the situation became clear.
The dad, slightly greasy and decorated with tattoos, emanated the type of vibe a father shows when lacking relational depth – his emotional aroma more melancholy than anguish, as if time and circumstances had numbed the grief. Watching tears stream down his son’s face, I couldn’t help but crack. The pure yet raw emotion of the instant captured a snapshot I will never forget.
Moments later, as I searched for a window seat, I saw the boy a few rows in front of me. I heard a flight attendant utter his name, “Sam” with a tender tone. Apparently, she was not only aware of his flying status but also the distress he was in.
Passing Sam by, he appeared stunned, glued to the back of his seat with eyes still bloodshot.
“God, I hate divorce. I hate it, I hate it, hate it,” was all I could internalize.
Overwhelmed by the visual, I pushed my seat back and began to drift.
An hour later, I woke up to find an astonishing sight. Cruising by the aisles was Sam, who had decided to assist one of the flight attendants in serving snacks to the rest of the passengers. Once subdued, Sam’s demeanor had completely transformed. Perhaps he was reminded of something positive or received an encouraging word. Whatever the case, Sam’s rapid conversion was nothing short of inspiring.
Sensing Jesus in the moment, my perspective started to change. While my disdain for divorce was still fresh in my periphery, I couldn’t help but voice gratitude for how God was using the love of strangers to multiply the sentiment. Often, we simmer when we emotionally attach to the victim of a tragic situation. We consider the sufferer and misappropriate our feet in their shoes assuming our anger is somehow a function of advocacy. But when an innocent child like Sam cheers up in the purest sense, you realize even a great tragedy like divorce pales in the face of what God can do to redeem the hurt of something He hates.
Deplaning the aircraft hours later, I kept a few paces behind Sam walking out of the tunnel. Unlike his boarding, I noted a skip in his step as he scampered to his mother. The real Sam had arrived.
Fast-forward 15 years later, and Sam occasionally pops into my mind, each time a prompt to pray for minors in the middle to become mighty men and women of God. How many little kids struggling with their parent’s divorce think they are the reason their mommy and daddy are no longer together? How many still bear shame because they weren’t taught how to deal with it? While only heaven knows, it’s that Kingdom I want to extend on earth as far as it be with me.
As for the rest of us, whether we’re mentors or bystanders in similar situations, we all have a part in sowing compassion to bridge divides in broken families. Regardless of our role, let’s pursue it with excellence.
I don’t have much to say today. Based on this post’s time stamp, you can deduce how sleep…just isn’t easy on September 18. Perhaps rightfully so.
That said, I want to set a friendly reminder to all who believe and profess the name of Jesus to stay intentional in making room for Him. As recent Mercy devos have reminded me, there’s a sweetness in meeting Christ in the incarnation, delighting in His Immanuel presence, and declaring His Hosanna. All day, every day, He’s in the business of being with us, His arm never too short to save and settle what we’re meant to cast upon Him.
For me and the fam, we will be visiting a couple places today to remember Juju in a way that allows lamentation to become celebration. For those wrestling with grief, we must understand both realities have their place and must be entered into with expectancy. When we lament in the Biblical sense, we’re not only emptying ourselves before God in vulnerability but surrendering to His Lordship in confidence.
Applied to the road, think of lamentation as the slow-down before the yield. To drive defensively in this situation, one must prepare the car’s direction by first adjusting the speed necessary for it to align to the proper course. In many ways, this is how we should view the heart when we’re asking God for help, relief, even salvation. When in doubt, slow down, anticipate the yield, and invite God into your space.
Once your inner man is at the right speed, sound out your gratitude and heartache in praise knowing there will be glory after this. To me, this is the beauty of lamentation given it’s almost always the first or second leg in our immediate journey to refreshment and release. Although it’s never a straight line, you can count on it as a bee-line to the Father’s heart of love.
In due time, some media will emerge as snapshots on the wall of a day done well; however, if you’re reading this, you now know the framework, the ‘why’ if you will. Wherever you’re at, whatever you’re going through, understand lamentation is more than the expression of sorrow meets honesty, but a key way we say ‘yes’ to God as we make room for Him. Be encouraged to go and do likewise.
It’s a refreshingly cloudy afternoon in the dead of summer as I write this, the dog days along with the 8:00 pm CT sunsets knocking on the doorstep. In short time, a new school year will be dawning; the commutes will be longer. What better time to return to a tradition unlike any other?
A month post solstice, I’m riding on a relative high. Five months since the infamous dog attack, we Fry’s are starting to sense momentum for the first time in almost four years. In house, the freak accident from February still bears weight as a microcosm to the decade, though the impacts have since dissipated. No question, I’m [super] proud of my family for how we continue to hold for dear life (in all respects) and have rebounded in the wake of an additional hardship, the Juju effect in full swing. 🦋 Granted, the assists from Vanderbilt to Refuge Center have been needed, yet the moves we’ve made regarding therapy, counseling, litigation, even education are paying off. The end result is a victorious ‘ah ha’ on the heels of a down year we refuse to let haunt us, precedence be darned.
At the Q2 turn, the premise of this year is as simple and it is straightforward: Slowly but surely, Lys and I are getting life and lives back on track, taking back some of what was stolen from us – the bitter dregs of ’23, a fading memory somewhere in the shadows and beyond the rear-view. As mentioned last December, last year’s second half was rough, dare I say historically so. To be honest, I still have questions I’m struggling to reconcile; however, this hasn’t kept 2024 from being the sweet eminence we hoped and prayed for last New Year’s Day. As we rise, we press on in new stride and gear, the smile rate at its most frequent since 2020 ironically enough.
Apart from the home front, the contrast between this year and last is no greater felt than the 9-5. Confirmed by prophetic voices last November, the clean slate has proven not only to be what I needed but more importantly, what the Doctor ordered. Any time you can serve an organization that doubles down as a safe place where mission, community, and treating people as diverse in function, co-equal in value, are steady cornerstones, good great things are going to happen. For the first time in my career, I feel understood and appreciated across the board in an environment where there’s no unnecessary funk, toxicity, or division. Day by day, I’m learning more of what God has equipped me to do as those around me believe the best in each other without the agenda of boxing others up. As Gandalf told King Theoden, “Look upon your land…
…a scene I resonate all the more to these days.
Concerning church life, while there’s plenty of direction to be defined, we’re excited to be inching back into healthy rhythms again. Certainly, we’ve enjoyed seeing what God has done in different bodies the past year and building connections within those circles. Yet, having a default fellowship location, as many of us can attest, is a gift to behold.
As for ministry outside the church, our While We’re Waiting small group for bereaved parents has officially launched and is open to mothers and/or fathers coping with child loss. Last week, I shared on Missionary Radio about the nonprofit as well as the community plant Lys and I are seeding in middle Tennessee. Honestly, I haven’t been this stirred about a God-given assignment since the TDOT Essentials Bible Study in 2019. Though the demographic is niche, we’re all in on this call to partner with God in binding the brokenhearted and helping the mourning know how blessed they are. As Lys and I have experienced, apart from those with compensation expectations, there’s not enough people willing to navigate our darkest hours; hence, why we’re eager to champion this trail moving forward as we hope to not only reach more bereaved parents but help the church realize how essential nourishing the grieving heart is outside those staccato moments on Sunday morning.
Of course, there’s more I could say at this point, especially in detailing the status of special projects Lys and I are working on; however, I’ll leave some space for the fall as well as the 2024 Year in Review post in five months. Admittingly, many of the family narratives this decade have been challenging, but I suppose this justifies the sharing of this update. As difficult as recent years have been, there’s wisdom in documenting the journey out from the valleys we find ourselves in. For me, putting words to progress is a means of worship and delighting in God’s sovereignty. While our creative outlets may vary, I encourage you to express gratitude in similar fashion, even if the primary inspiration is to realign and reset course.
In closing, I part with one of my favorite Bible chapter introductions, 2 Corinthians 1:3-11 (ESV). Between this Scripture and the podcast above, I’ll let them capture the ‘selah’ for today.
God of All Comfort
“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too. If we are afflicted, it is for your comfort and salvation; and if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which you experience when you patiently endure the same sufferings that we suffer. Our hope for you is unshaken, for we know that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in our comfort.
For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again. You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.”
So last week, I’m revisiting the prodigal parable when it dawns on me: Before there could be a party (v. Luke 15:23) for the son, there first had to be ‘fashion statement’ (v. 22), an opportunity for him to know why he was being celebrated.
Like others, my last read through of Luke 15 wasn’t the first time in which I visualized the father decking his son with boughs of jolly. To be honest, I used to skim over this part as a side detail. ‘Nice! The dad is thrilled his son is back,’ I’d think to myself.
But having marinated in this passage further, I can’t help but wonder if this excerpt is the most profound part of the entire story.
For starters, not only does the passage highlight a daily reality of God’s father-heart of love, but it also emphasizes the progression of God’s ministry of reconciliation, a progression as follows:
God’s confirmation of our identity
God’s admittance of ‘as we are’ in light of who we are
God’s celebration of #1 + #2
Per the list above, part of the revelation for me lies in how easily we skip from #1 to #3 when reading the parable. We remember the father’s compassion (v. 20) and the party he throws (v. 23), yet we forget how the father loved on purpose in between as evidenced by his desire to adorn his son with specific garments:
The robe representing a fresh outpouring of grace…
The ring representing a symbol of sonship and authority…
The sandals representing a charge for the son to walk afresh and anew (under both coverings)…
…pretty remarkable, right?
Clearly, the father wasn’t content on just running to embrace his son.
Was he overjoyed? Of course! Was he relieved? Absolutely.
However, as much as the father wanted to welcome his son, he wanted even more so to establish him into a renewed sense of identity, place, and purpose! Accordingly, one has much to gain connecting the parable to real life.
‘Cause truth is: We’re ALL prodigals in some capacity. We’ve all stumbled into rough places and tough times at one point or another. We’ve all encountered rude awakenings involving unexpected setbacks, and in some cases, our own depravity.
Yet, when we receive the power of this parable, we ultimately discover how the story doesn’t end with God forgiving us. In fact, it’s only the beginning!
For even in the wake of our setbacks, our Papa God never stops seeking a way to reconcile us as heirs with an inheritance (Romans 8:17), as anointed children blessed with a destiny. Put another way, God always has a party invitation with your name on it secured in an envelope sealed with grace. And while you’re not forced to open it, if you decide to, you’ll not only find directions, but also information on how to prepare for it. How awesome is that?
The next time you’re tempted to mentally wallow with the pigs, remember God isn’t satisfied to slap an “I forgive you” onto your wrongdoings, your past hurts and failures, and call it a day.
Moreover, God wants to remind you…
…your identity is not lost… …your place at the table is unclaimed… …and oh, by the way, when you choose to change, heaven celebrates. Like a good neighbor, He’ll not only help you arrive at a better place, He, by His Spirit, will help you stay there, too.
My encouragement to you today is to claim the robe, the ring, and the sandals, put on the garments of praise (Isaiah 61:3), and live knowing you’ve been fully reinstated into wholeness with God. Sure, there may be days when your self-perception seems hopelessly chained to dark, dreary memories, but that doesn’t mean there’s not a way to walk in your sonship!
For me, whenever I find myself in that taxing tug-of-war, I…
Confess I’ve been forgiven and set free…
I declare my identity as a mighty man/son of God…
Recommit my ways unto the Lord.
Abiding by this pathway, I affirm God’s confirmation, admittance, and celebration of who I am and *wallah*…God’s mission of reconciliation is complete in that moment.
Well, folks, I’m out of words today. As always, if you need prayer, a word of encouragement, a dose of stimulating dialogue, Lys and I are here.
As I continue to work on Juju’s book, I wanted to share one of my new excerpts. Still making progress one piece at a time…
One of my favorite first quarter moments of Jubilee’s life came during her transfer from Centennial Women’s Hospital to Vanderbilt Children’s Hospital. As 2022 dawned, hopes were high this move would help improve her health thanks to a more structured environment. After all, more screens, new equipment, and seasoned staff could only accelerate the healing.
Yet, for the rest of the family, we needed a spark as well. As they say, desperate times call for desperate measures and in seasons of chaos, you have to take what you can get, even if that special something is animated fiction. Hence, our corporate satisfaction when we watched the new Disney classic, Encanto, for the first time. As if God had orchestrated the timing just for us, the movie centers on a single word with a multitude of meanings, some good, some bittersweet. That word…
…was ‘miracle’.
Before Jubilee, if someone mentioned ‘miracle’ in conversation, Lyssah and I would have responded favorably upon knowing the context. Based on our belief, signs and miracles are still relevant today as authored by a sovereign God. While man often yearns for a miracle on specific terms, the purpose of any heaven meets earth miracle, even if delayed or unforeseen, is perfect. Sure, we may not understand the breadth and scope of the parameters, but I mean, isn’t that one of the fundamental conditions of any miracle in that it could look differently than what we expect? Shouldn’t a miracle be transcendent, mysterious, and challenge us to consider the benevolent hands of an almighty God? Or are we so jealous and zealous to assess the unexplainable with explicable rationale?
Frankly, the reason we sometimes fail to see God in our midst is because we haven’t cultivated the sensitivity required to sense His presence. Like the Sadducees and Jewish priests, we have in our minds a checklist of what must happen in our favor for God to be true to who He says He is. We think His love, goodness, any tangential trait is contingent upon us having proof of Him hearing us when the fact is God hears us through the cries of humble prayer. In other words, how we ask of God reveals what we believe of God. So, when we pray for a specific outcome in ‘miracle or bust’ fashion, we ultimately weaken the hope we crave by making it conditional. And for what? To feel in control? To have the assurance of being on the right path doing all that we can?
Having spent 393 days in the NICU, I can confirm the depths of desperation that flood those halls. What’s less certain is the integrity of their hope or as I like to say, the width of their anticipation. For Lyssah and I, we not only approached each day as if it was Juju’s last but considered the pathways of her life and the ways God could use each outcome. Were our prayers anchored in health and life in abundance? Of course! However, we also knew to pray what Jesus prayed in Gethsemane: Not my will but yours be done. So, while we were in unprecedented territory, striving to care for an afflicted daughter, we knew we could only see a sliver of God’s infinite perspective. This is why trusting God became more effortless the more we kept in a prayerful rhythm. Whenever we caught ourselves wanting God’s will to conform to our requests, we called on God in our weakness recognizing any display of spiritual discipline was for His glory and to His credit.
Back to Encanto. If you’ve seen the movie, you know the story of Mirabel, who in an enchanted home full of gifted family members, is the only ordinary member. Although she strives for her Abuela’s approval, she struggles to find acceptance based on receiving a gift from Casita, the family house and source of the magic. Accordingly, she grows up feeling inferior wondering why the magic passed her by. No question, her grief is no greater captured than in the song, ‘Waiting on a Miracle’. Take a look at these lyrics:
I can’t move the mountains I can’t make the flowers bloom I can’t take another night up in my room Waiting on a miracle I can’t heal what’s broken Can’t control the morning rain or a hurricane Can’t keep down the unspoken invisible pain Always waiting on a miracle, a miracle All I need is a change All I need is a chance All I know is I can’t stay on the side Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes I would move the mountains Make new trees and flowers grow Someone please just let me know, where do I go? I am waiting on a miracle, a miracle I would heal what’s broken Show this family something new Who I am inside, so what can I do? I’m sick of waiting on a miracle, so here I go I am ready, come on, I’m ready I’ve been patient, and steadfast, and steady Bless me now as you blessed us all those years ago When you gave us a miracle Am I too late for a miracle?
You talk about a heart cry in anguish. Of all the Disney movies in which the protagonist confronts her despair, Encanto arguably takes the top spot.
Moments after this confession, a mystical danger emerges and threatens to eradicate the magic. That’s when Mirabel summons the courage to not only rise above her despair but also restore order and unite divided family members, reminding them the miracle is not the gift but the giftee as part of the overall family journey.
Why is this important? Because the movie confirms an aspect of how God works His wonder. Specifically, a miracle isn’t limited to answered prayer since a miracle is not about what we get over but what we get through. In His Word, God doesn’t promise us we’ll get over everything but He does promise we’ll get through anything. In our case with Jubilee, while our prayers for her to survive the NICU and make it home did not materialize, as our hearts healed, we learned to see her miracle as the impact she made on the thousands of lives, including us, shattering medical expectations and probabilities along the way.
Yet, even if she hadn’t survived past day one, the miracle of her life would have still been clinched. For even as we contended with God in our pain, He enlarged our capacity to sense the sweetness of His nearness, His tender hand holding ours. Were there some days we were beyond angry? Absolutely. There may have been a choice word or two. But in the end, we recognized God as the one who gives purpose, resets our perspective, and redeem fallenness and fallen spirits alike during moments, especially in seasons of grief.
————————————————————————————————————————————————
Even with Mirabel and Abuela reconciling at the end of Encanto, the question still remains for those who feel they lost a miracle with their child’s passing. Surely, I’m not alone when I say it’s easy to feel alone though the Bible speaks to the contrary.
For instance, I believe whole-heartedly in Isaiah 41:10 but struggled to believe it fully after Jubilee’s death.
“So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.”
In my mind, the truth had become conditional, like an expired contract or coupon. At one point God was strengthening us, helping us, imparting the supernatural, but not anymore, or so I thought. With no more life to sustain, the upholding felt more like withholding. Deep down, I knew God was still God, but couldn’t connect the dots of a passage once absolute, now more theoretical. At some point, I had to accept my belief process as the primary problem, specifically in God’s upholding hand being a dependent variable.
In our case, God’s ability and capacity to keep Jubilee alive had become a middle wheel teetering on the edge of legalistic perspective. In desperation, we prayed without ceasing and never stopped believing in God’s wonder working power; however, there were some days we felt the fear of what would happen if we stopped. As such, our faith, incomplete as it was, sometimes served as a false catalyst, subconsciously greasing the true wheel of God’s sovereign hand. On days Jubilee was doing well, God had his foot more firmly on the gas petal. On days she was struggling, He may or may not have been waiting for us to press in and request some aspect of His nature to intervene.
Thankfully, the reality of Isaiah 41:10’s conclusion eventually found us to awaken alignment. For the upholdings of God are not subject to words and beliefs of man. By no means, is God in any way driven by our righteousness, given any earthly display is a direct reflection of the divine in the first place. When Isaiah says God will strengthen, help, and uphold you, he’s not suggesting these actions are chained to outcomes but rather the eternal, perpetual essence of His nature. If there is a joy to grab hold of within this verse, it’s the steadfastness of His hand in all situations. As Lys and I wrestle through our grief, we realized the tangibility of God’s constancy is just as much in the heartbreak of disappointment, if not more so, than its prelude. With the Beatitudes in mind, when hearts and heads are heavy-laden, that is when God’s upholdings are at their best so we can sense Jesus saying ‘Come to me’, so we can hear His call.
Does this sound like we’re alone? As if a fear of loneliness has a legitimate place?
I didn’t think so. In no realm are we truly alone, despite what the NICU may tempt us to believe. True, the hospital halls can seem like a secluded place where we feel fight our battles alone. But that’s when we must remember and believe God’s Word. As Point of Grace once sung, when it looks like you’ve lost it all and you haven’t got a prayer, Jesus will still be there. Hence, why we fight the good fight of faith and confess the goodness of God (1 Timothy 6:12) in all situations so those who lack hope will see a glimmer of it.
I suppose that’s one of the key silver linings in Juju’s life. As she fought against all odds, she compelled us to see God amidst the chaos and challenged us to appreciate the trials in real time. Just as light shines brighter in darkness, so does perspective sharpen during adversity. If I’m dealing with greater pain, whether physically, spiritually, or emotionally, so must I desire God to be greater. So must I crave His presence and peace as crooked roads are made straight. And the choice for us can be a net encouragement in perceiving NICU stress as a way to desire God the right way, a purifier of our thirst for ‘more’ of God.
Perhaps this is why I love the redemptive conclusion of Encanto. For starters, we shouldn’t want more of God’s magic to sustain the miracle of health. Rather, we should perceive the miracle as Trinitarian life, life that was, life that is, and life that will be. Trust me, I get how hard it is to accept this truth when our precious candles have burned out. Yet, as dear to our hearts our offspring may be, the miracle goes beyond the flesh and touches the divine in ways that daily inspire. Just as mothers carry the DNA of her children for the rest of her life, so too can we sustain the memory of God’s sustaining us in our darkest hours.
We carry on not because we want to be carried but because the carry is imminent. This is the paradigm shift any NICU parent must embrace when they inevitably question whether God will strengthen them in moments of weakness.
