My friend’s greatest desire is to conceive and live her life-long dream of being a mother, yet despite prayers, medical visits, treatments, financial investment, the answer is consistently “no”. I battle clichés in my own head every time we speak as I desperately seek wisdom to comfort her deep sorrow, though in my heart I know there is nothing I can say...
As her and I process our journeys together, it has been cool to reconnect with the girl from the 2010 tunnel. She is wiser and also knows that words, though well intended, are sometimes more damaging than helpful. Instead, our presence and silence alone can be really powerful, especially when someone is grieving the loss of a person or a dream. Our tunnels may be similar and our pain may bear some resemblance, but they are still different and how we walk it out is individually messy and beautiful.
In a recent convo, my friend unapologetically wept, as she courageously and vulnerably confessed she doesn’t have strength to pray for another miracle. Many of us have never had the courage to be that honest with ourselves, or with God.
The Lord, in His infinite wisdom, led me to the war with the Amalekites in Exodus 17. The Amalekites attacked the Israelites and Moses commanded Joshua to take some of his men and go fight against them. Meanwhile Moses, Aaron and Hur made their way to the hilltop; we pick up in verse 11:
11 As long as Moses held up his arms, the Israelites won, but when he put his arms down, the Amalekites started winning. 12 When Moses' arms grew tired, Aaron and Hur brought a stone for him to sit on, while they stood beside him and held up his arms, holding them steady until the sun went down. 13 In this way Joshua totally defeated the Amalekites. 14 Then the Lord said to Moses, “Write an account of this victory, so that it will be remembered.
In my last blog post, I promised to share how my previous tunnel has shed light on my perspective so I can find light in present moments of quiet darkness. I found truth in 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 back then and this truth guides me now. It says that the Father of compassion comforts us in our troubles so we can comfort others with the same comfort we ourselves have received.
And so my question is this: whose words, silence and presence bring you the most comfort? Well-meaning-church-folk will quickly say, the Lord [rolls eyes]. Yes, of course! The Lord, the giver of all things, shares His life, wisdom, guidance and encouragement through His word. He also puts people in our lives to express His enduring and compassionate love. He puts people.
There are some known and unknown Aarons and Hurs who bring out the stone and hold up my arms when I grow weary. It is not always what they say, though many of them share life-giving words and Scriptures to remind me of my worth and God's promises; it is their silent presence when I unapologetically weep. It is them standing in the gap for me in their private prayers, when no one but God is watching and listening. It is them pleading before God for my miracle when I don't have the strength to ask for it myself.
Who are your people? And who calls you their people? Find Aarons and Hurs to stand/walk with you and be an Aaron and Hur to someone. It may not lead you out of the tunnel, but it’ll certainly lighten it.
I am writing a song prayer called “The Unknown” regarding life in the tunnel. I am finalizing some of the lyrics, and hope to share them with you in my next blog post. I also hope to share an audio or video version with you very soon.
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