Friday, March 27, 2015

Trust without borders

My (grief) mom's group met the other night, and we talked about the ways grief has changed us. Wow. Where do we even begin? Three hours didn't even start to scratch the surface! However, one of the moms mentioned the song "Oceans (Where My Feet May Fail) by Hillsong. I pulled up YouTube on my iPad, and we watched the video. I had heard the song before, but had never paid attention to the lyrics.

"Oceans (Where Feet May Fail)"

You call me out upon the waters
The great unknown where feet may fail
And there I find You in the mystery
In oceans deep
My faith will stand

And I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Your grace abounds in deepest waters
Your sovereign hand
Will be my guide
Where feet may fail and fear surrounds me
You've never failed and You won't start now

So I will call upon Your name
And keep my eyes above the waves
When oceans rise
My soul will rest in Your embrace
For I am Yours and You are mine

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders
Let me walk upon the waters
Wherever You would call me
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander
And my faith will be made stronger
In the presence of my Savior

Oh, Jesus, you're my God!

I will call upon Your name
Keep my eyes above the waves
My soul will rest in Your embrace
I am Yours and You are mine 

We listened to the song with tears in our eyes, each of us struck in our own way by its profound message. I wasn't aware of how much I needed to hear this reassurance of God: "You've never failed and You won't start now." And, again, I was challenged with this line: "Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders." Where my trust is without borders. Wow. I'm still chewing on this one. Let me tell you that losing a child will most definitely reveal one's issues with trust.

My cyber friend and writing mom Kara Chupp (also a grief mom) wrote a post this week that related to our mom's group discussion and resonated strongly with me. She interviewed Keri Seavey, mother to American Idol contestant Daniel Seavey. Her post is here:

It was this question in the interview that drove the nail home for me:
3) What have been some of the struggles? Dangers? Fears you've had for him going into this process?
Keri: Let me start by saying idealistically and in theory, I would never want my fears to stand in the way of opportunities and experiences that God ordains for our children. However, realistically, my son's experience with American Idol gave dormant fear a chance to sprout and grow in my heart. There are a plethora of obvious fears regarding the industry, success, and Hollywood.  When Daniel made it through his first rounds, he began doing interviews and photo shoots at a dizzying rate. When my husband and I were alone in our San Francisco hotel room after a long and crazy day after Daniel had "made it through to Hollywood" I said, "I want to put Daniel in a basket and hide him far, far away!" My husband said something in response that is simple, yet profound. He said, "This is God's doing and His grace will be sufficient." This is gritty truth with teeth that has stuck with me and continues to stabilize me when I (often) feel weak-in-the-knees and panicky.

As Matt's siblings get older, I find myself faced with a multitude of situations in which my trust in God is put to the test. To say that fear lies dormant, well, let's just say instead that it's always at bay, always on stand-by. The temptation to keep Matt's siblings at home, not allowing them to travel far away or with others at the wheel? Yeah, it's there alright. That big lump in my throat when I left Matt's younger brother at the airport last week? I cried all the way home fearing for his safety, begging God to please bring him back home safely. (Not to mention the bad weather and poor road conditions due to snow on the drive home!) And when Matt's sister signed up for a missions trip with our church youth group this coming June? I wanted to do what Keri Seavey wanted to do with her Daniel.

Oh, how I want to control the circumstances in my children's lives. How I want to avoid going where I've been before (losing a child). I don't want to be ruled by fear, but fear has a way of jumping a person, assaulting fast and furious. Before I know it, fear has thrown me into the ocean. My head knows that I need to "take captive every thought" (2 Cor. 10:5), but all I can hear is my heart beating erratically, drowning out the voice of truth. I swallow salty water and gasp for air.

Thankfully, however, God's word is stronger than the current. He who calmed the storm (Matthew 8:23) calms His child. He beckons me to come, to trust without borders. He promises sufficient (adequate for the purpose; enough) grace. He reminds me that He "...wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on Thee, because he trusteth in Thee." (Isaiah 26:3) Trust without borders? Every fear in this grief journey is the opportunity to do just that. 

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