deliver us again

2 Corinthians 1:9-11

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.

Paul, what was your affliction? This affliction that has you so burdened beyond your strength that you despair of life itself? Can it really be so bad? Is this the type of affliction where when the bliss of sleep fades in the morning, the sunrise feels like an assault rather than a gift? Is this the affliction where anxiety catches your breath and holds it hostage there? Is this the affliction where loss tears hard through your life? When the ones you held most dear were taken away in thievery? What is this affliction that steals your joy and robs you of your peace? Tell me, Paul. 

Because this language is strong. These are not the words you see on a Sunday morning in fellowship with other believers. No, it cannot be something shallow, like the car won't start or the kids won't sleep. This is the pain where the storm won't end. This is a continual pain that has latched onto Paul and his companions. This is deep. Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death.

I wonder if he shares these words for those of us who feel this way too. For those of us who know our hearts are beating, but our lungs need to be reminded to breathe. For those of us who see the sun, but are blinded by the darkness. For those of us who are so utterly burdened beyond our strength. The ones who have been fighting for a glimmer of hope, but we've dropped our swords and we've been injured in the battle.

I think these three verses are for us. 

The broken.

The shattered.

The struggling.

The anxious.

The depressed.

This is for us. 

Verse 10 seems to be a reminder. He delivered us from such a deadly peril and he will deliver us. It doesn't say again. It says "and he will deliver us." It's like a reminder.

Soul, remember. 

 He delivered us before. 

He will deliver us. I promise He will deliver us. Does he say this to convince himself or does he believe that truly, God will deliver?

He delivered us before. We believe the stories. 

On him, he continues, we have set our hope that he will deliver us again.This is it. The assurance. He will deliver us again. It will happen. I am sure. I am convinced. I know. 

We just had this snowstorm. Next week is spring. It wasn't supposed to snow. We thought we were in the clear. We believed we had made it out of the winter. 

But it came, like nature always does in spite of our protests, without hesitation to our fears. And it dumped its beautiful white blanket on us. It feels as we shovel our cars and make paths for our feet to walk again that it will never melt. We are sure as we stand in the fields covered in white that the wind will never stop, the cold will never thaw, our pain will never ease. But I am sure, surer than the ground that I stand on, and the clouds that cover my sun, that there are flowers underneath those blankets. Those flowers cannot resist the coming Spring. The trees cannot help but allow blossoms to form on their leaves. 

Just as I am sure and confident that this snow will melt, that Spring will defy these winter months, I am sure that He will deliver us again. I am sure, that as he was faithful before, He will be faithful again. I've seen Him move mountains and I have no doubt that this one will likewise be thrown into the heart of the sea. I've seen Him walk on the water and I believe He can do it again. 

This water that is deep, He has parted, He has walked on, He has taught me to swim.
He will deliver us. I do not know how. But I know He will deliver us. 

This has happened to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. This has happened for a reason. There is a purpose for this storm, a meaning behind these tears. I reason for this struggle.
It is to make us rely on this good, kind, perfectly strong God who has raised the dead. Calmed the storm. Thawed the winter. It is to make us know our God who loves us, knows us and holds us. It is to make us rely on God who is strong rather than ourselves who are weak. This has happened for a reason. 

Verse 11 goes on

You must also help us by prayer. 

You must help us by prayer. Because this is impossible to believe. This is terrifying to wrestle with. You must help us by prayer because this journey was not made to be walked alone. Paul had companions, he had his tribe. He had the Corinthians whom he received much comfort from. And He had his prayer warriors, that even on the hardest of days, they would be beside him, reminding them that God will deliver us again.

So friend, on this hard day, when the storm has endured, the pain has been unrelenting, know that this has happened for a reason and we have a promise that God is entirely good and wonderfully kind. All his promises find their yes in Him. He will deliver us again.

handle with care

I don't know about you,
but I put up walls.
These high walls of self-protection and a stoic face that says "All is well," when the house is on fire.
There are these high strongholds around my heart that I believe will keep me safe. How is it that I believe that I will be safer in isolation rather than in the safe and loving arms of my Father?
But now the walls are gone.
Because I know vulnerability is the best medicine for this soul.
Only a box remains.
Because I know I must give myself to those around me, but there are still hesitations, so I've wrapped it tightly and I've labeled it 'handle with care.'
I thought the box was enough, but much to my horror, someone slit the seals and folded open the flaps.
 I did not stop them, although I could have.
I did not shout, although I wanted to.
The walls could have been pulled back up like a fortress on a hill, the drawbridge raised, entrance denied.
But I did not.
And they continued, these incredible people that had gained my trust, obtained access to my soul, looked inside and did not run. Instead, they reached inside and with care beyond what I even dreamed they handled my heart. When the wounds they touched were tender and tears sprang to my eyes they did not falter. And the truth they shared, the prayers they whispered over me were love and comfort to my weary heart. A balm to my dilapidated spirit.

This. This is what community is supposed to look like. This is what the most desperate parts of my soul were longing for. This is what I had been praying for. When I came home from YWAM 3 long years ago my prayers resembled that of a lonely heart. I yearned for the community I had built in Louisville. That similar place where we built one another up, prayed for each other, carried our burdens, and had friendships that were deeper than the ocean.
Suddenly, it seemed I had found it. Suddenly, I realized that we had pushed beyond the awkward introductions, we had put our eyes on each other and discovered meaningful friendships.

I went back to Kentucky for the weekend. To Louisville, to the people who made home a community. I have not been in a year and a half. Our reunions were stunning as we gathered for a good friend's wedding. When I returned this time, it was not sad, nor was it hard because for the first time my quiver was full. Coming home, I realized, I had found the community I searched so hard for.

What is community?
We are learning. Clumsily and passionately we are learning. It is the laughter that lightens our load, the listening in our brokenness, the praying that comes when we cannot bear one's burdens anymore, The joy that arises out of knowing you are part of a tribe, you are known, loved and not forgotten.
Community is an invitation that says, "We are here, we are a part of this journey, we will not walk this road alone." Community walks into the mire of the pit, community crawls in the valley of the shadow of death, community victoriously conquers mountains. Community rejoices, weeps, laughs and sings. Community is a group of people that are messy and beautiful, that push each other to the hope and life that is found in a relationship with Jesus Christ. This community is not perfect but is more than I'd ever dreamed of.