Death: On Earth as it is in Heaven

A seed hidden in the heart of an apple is an orchard invisible. 

A Welsh Proverb

This year, I’ve stayed close to a friend, watching her grief unfold. I've grieved myself, grieved with her, grieved for her. I never wanted to witness this in someone I care for so deeply, but grief has almost been another person in the room with us. I've tried to love her through it (and I will for the rest of our lives) and I hope I've been even just a little of what she's needed when she's missing so much. Grieving is hard, holy work and she's doing it beautifully.

Along with thinking about the lifespan of grief, I have also been thinking about death and what it means for us here. One day on the way home from taking Willow to school, I was listening to a song called Benediction by Josh Garrels  and I heard these lyrics:

“May you grow from a seed

Into a tall, fruitful tree”

Immediately, I saw a large, sturdy tree with thin leaves made of gold. Leaves that don't fall. Leaves that brush against each other softly and sound like a wind chime. It was so substantial and bright it almost hurt to look at it; yet, I couldn't look away. The leaves shone on everything around and brightened up that plot of land. 

Almost like that tree above except the leaves were actual gold. They shined like this one only more completely and in a way I can’t put into words. The light didn't come from the sun, but from within the leaves.  It was standing alone on its own hill and the base of the tree was made of something not of this world. Indestructible. 

It was perfect, beautiful, flawless.

The Lord put into my mind that this is what happens when bright, shining lights for Jesus die and I knew this vision was for my friend (and now, I know it's for you). That tree was once a seed that God lovingly placed into the ground to grow and shoot out roots.  The seed bursting through the soil of the earth represents the birth from the womb. Every second earthside means growth and change and producing fruit. When the growth on earth ends, when the seasons no longer change the leaves, the season of death has come. 

And when that person dies their earthly death, guess what? No one chops down that tree. Are you hearing me? THIS IS THE MOST IMPORTANT PART OF WHAT I'M WRITING. 

No one chops down that tree. 

At the moment of death, that tree is solidified into something that no man can destroy. Against all odds and the nature of death, the tree’s roots and the base of the tree become impenetrable. Now that the person is in heaven, their tree can withstand anything. NO ONE CAN CHOP DOWN THIS TREE.  No one.  No one can take this tree away.  

And it’s like this on earth AS IT IS in Heaven. 
God told me that exact phrase. 

On earth as it is in heaven. 

The tree, the fruit. NO ONE CAN EVER TAKE IT AWAY. The fruit of their life, the evidence of their growth, on earth as it is in heaven. Somehow this tree is both places. You visit the tree when you remember, when you tell stories...the tree is a legacy no one can take away. 

The fruit continues to produce, even in death. 

But this tree is not to be worshipped, sweet one, or you'll lose your grip on this life. It is to be remembered and enjoyed. It's FROM God, it's not God. It's evidence of God's goodness and faithfulness on earth as it is in Heaven.

The name of the song that God spoke through.

Benediction: the utterance or bestowing of a blessing; The noun benediction comes from the Latin roots bene, meaning "well" and diction meaning "to speak" — literally to speak well of. 

I didn't know the meaning of the name of the song title before I started writing down this vision.  What benediction means...where the word comes from…"well." It is well!  The woman I'm so close to and who I've been watching dance with grief has been holding onto this song from day 1. That's not a coincidence, God wanted her to see it. He wants you to see it. 

And the rest of it... “to speak,” to speak well of…that’s ALL people do about bright shining lights for Jesus when they're gone. It's their legacy. That’s just a bonus to everything above, it just blew me away.  To speak well of a person who is gone is to honor and acknowledge that tree. It gives purpose to their life and death and life. 

The tree: 

Strong. Sturdy. Steadfast. Shining. Singing.

Eternally.

Now that God's child has accomplished her purpose on earth, she’s in her eternity in Heaven. Every time I see a Fall tree with golden leaves I will think of this.  The sun and the leaves’ colors can work together to remind me of the vision that the Lord graciously gave me. For her, for me, for you.

God uses the nature His own hands created to remind us of Him

Over and over and over

When nothing makes sense anymore, know that the good stuff doesn’t make sense either.  In a glorious way!  His ways are far above our ways but that doesn’t mean that we’re too stupid to understand and we blindly follow Him.  It means that Heavenly ways are above earthly ways and they are good for us. We just can’t grasp them yet.  Hold on!

Isaiah 55:8-13

For my thoughts are not your thoughts,

neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord.

For as the heavens are higher than the earth,

so are my ways higher than your ways

and my thoughts than your thoughts.

“For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven

and do not return there but water the earth,

making it bring forth and sprout,

giving seed to the sower and bread to the eater,

so shall my word be that goes out from my mouth;

it shall not return to me empty,

but it shall accomplish that which I purpose,

and shall succeed in the thing for which I sent it.

“For you shall go out in joy

and be led forth in peace;

the mountains and the hills before you

shall break forth into singing,

and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands.

Instead of the thorn shall come up the cypress;

instead of the brier shall come up the myrtle;

and it shall make a name for the Lord,

an everlasting sign that shall not be cut off.”

If you've lost someone, I am so sorry. I know I can't fix that, no one can. That's not even the point. The deeper you love, the deeper you grieve. To take away grief would mean you loved less. That can never be. Grief is real and it's brutal and it's needed. Grief will last as long as your love does.

This is one of my favorite pieces of artwork. Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, grieving in prayer. Praying, asking, knowing it wasn't changing his future but asking anyway. Sweating drops of blood, he grieved so hard. Jesus in his brutal grief gives you permissions to grieve hard and don't let anyone tell you differently.

If you can hear one thing, hear this: 

No one took that person away from you. No one chopped down their tree at death. That tree is more alive now than ever. The leaves are making their song and it's for everyone to hear to bring glory to God AND for you. A song of remembrance. A song of their story. You can sit under that tree and remember but you can't stay there. It's tempting to bring your blanket and cover up under that tree forever, to shut out the world.

For now you can, you need to sit there. That's ok. Needed. Expected. Rest against the steadfast trunk and let the leaves sing you a song. One day, you'll get up and dance in the field next to the tree. And you can go back to visit anytime. The good thing is, because God loves you so much, you can hear hints of the music everywhere you go. Even if you leave the hill or the field or the country. You'll hear the music everywhere. It will hurt and it will heal. It will slay and it will soothe.

A real life Golden Tree. In my mother-in-law's yard, who is now a flawless, indestructable tree on earth as in heaven

The Community You Crave Isn't Real

Community. People crave it. 

No no, not THAT one!

They always have, but now it takes so much less effort to get a watered-down version at your keyboard that feels like enough. But "community lite" cannot be replicated in real life. In real life, it takes a lot of effort to maintain what you get online. And when people can’t maintain it, what do they do? They take off.  This can happen in a similar way within the church.

A church member we'll call Kyle (courtesy of Isaac's random name generator) gives up on his current church and--while complaining--blames them for not providing enough places for community to happen. Kyle blames the pastor for not fostering it enough when that's not his job.  It’s actually Kyle's job. So he lashes out at the very group of people brimming with community-potential instead of looking inside and discovering what community and relationships really are. WORK. And it may start within his own heart. But Kyle doesn't have time for all that and isn't willing to stick around and cultivate the meager beginnings of the community that is already there. (Because sometimes churches aren't good at "community" and they need help) He wants to just take off and go find one that already exists, the way he's imagining it.

But Kylerino quickly realizes that community takes work and work is hard. So he gives up community life altogether, as some do. It’s easy to love a podcast pastor or a church on TV because Kyle doesn’t have to deal with the people that are in it, he doesn’t have to serve alongside them. Kyle doesn't have to work at building relationships that may be hard. OF COURSE it's easier, Kyle! OF COURSE you like that better, Kyle! And when that pastor lets you down, you can just shake your head and change the channel. 

Just like we ARE the church and go TO church

We ARE community and are IN community 

WE ARE THE COMMUNITY WE SEEK

WE HAVE TO BE IT TO RECEIVE IT 

And often the work part comes first. 
It's a bummer Kyle, I know. 
Here's a coffee and a muffin, go ponder that in the corner. 

If you feel like Kyle, listen up. I'm throwing a hard truth atcha.  I know you want to feel support and be a part of a family and it's what we should want; but maybe you should be as/more concerned about fostering community OUTside of the church than INside of it. Including outsiders more than feeling included yourself. 

Kyle: I want to be fed
The Church: Feed other people 

Kyle: I want to be taken care of 
The Church: take care of other people 

You may be surprised where you find community. So come on back, Kyle, we aren't mad atcha and I hope you aren't mad at us. Let's figure this out together. If you're at another church, it's cool, just start serving and loving there. 

Let go of your idea of what community is and start BEing it. 
(BTW, I'm terrible at this concept of community so Kyle may as well be replaced with Courtney. God often gives me words that are WAY more for me than anyone else. Got it?) 

Mountain Mama: At The Base of an Unexpected Mountain

*guys, I don't know why the font/size is so messed up in this blog, it WILL NOT fix and I'm getting so aggravated that I'm just leaving it.  Bam.*

I wrote the following Facebook status sitting in the waiting room of Asher's neurologist's office, expecting bad news after yet another seizure:

Today is one of those days I'm tempted to say, "this day can go to hell."

But then I remember, "this is the day that the Lord has made" and I can't say it. Instead I have to choose to rejoice and be glad in it. In spite of it. In the midst of it. 

I can't, in my human aggravation, be so quick to say something that God made isn't good. It may not FEEL good, but my feelings don't dictate the truth.

Until my feelings line back up with the truth, I'll ride on the waves of His grace.

And then...the really terrible thing happened and my world just exploded and I internally lost it. It didn't even have to do with Asher, it had to do with my youngest and really it didn't even have to do with her. We had traveled to Cincinnati for a week of appointments for Willow who has some developmental delays. The last appointment was for genetics and it was the first appointment we left feeling a lot of hope. We got blood work done and drove the three hours home to wait 4-6 weeks for results. I was so prepared to wait. 

Days later, as I was waiting for Asher's neurologist to come into the room to discuss his treatment plan, Cincinnati Children's called and said unfortunately our insurance didn't cover the micro array test we wanted so desperately for Willow. I didn't realize until he said that how much of my hopes were pinned on that test.  I cried to the nurse in the neurologist's office who happened to walk in.  Then I dried my eyes and talked to the neurologist about how scary Asher's prognosis was.  I went home a different woman.  Something had shifted. I felt hope sucked out of my soul and it didn't make sense. Nothing made sense suddenly. 

What was the point of all of this?

A couple of days later, my friend Jen who felt my hopelessness asked, "you've hit a road block, right?" Those words felt right.  But I couldn’t understand WHY. She said saw me resting there in front of the road block waiting, but all I saw was a confused girl who stood still. I didn't WANT to rest! I was prepared to run.

Then, He gave me a vision 

I was running in the middle of a two lane road and keeping a good pace. The world was wide open and silent around me.

The road sort of looked like this

I was wearing running clothes and I really looked the part. I was running and breathing correctly and enjoying the scenery. I felt fit and ready to run forever. I wasn’t winded, things were going well and then: 

It came after a bend in the road so I didn’t see it coming.  I stopped, put my hands on my knees and couldn’t breathe. It spanned across the entire road and stopped me from going further. Face red, sweat falling to the asphalt, I was heaving out breaths and had to lay on my back with my knees bent.  I was so winded and hot and exhausted suddenly.  That mountain came out of nowhere so I went from breathing easily while moving... to a full stop with no rhythm. 

When I was stopped I realized that I hadn’t been doing any of it in God’s strength.  I just talked about doing it that way and that wasn’t enough to sustain me for the long haul.  

He needed me to stop and rest at the base of the mountain and wait.  Not wait on Him to catch up, but wait on my breathing to settle so that I could see clearly.  (Hint: it took awhile). 

Jen said she felt like He was doing something on the other side of the mountainous road block and I just had to wait. Even though it hurt, it made sense. And in a strange way, giving myself permission to stop and wait was the beginning of catching my proverbial breath. It took the pressure for answers away.  *I* was deciding to wait. You might be thinking, but you didn't have a choice. To that I say, OF COURSE I DID! I could have-completely unequipped-tried to scale that mountain or start kicking it to knock it down or some other insane thing.  I could have fought and fought and fought with the insurance companies even more than I had or tried to raise the ridiculous amount of money for a blood test that maybe wouldn't tell us anything.  There are lots of things you can do to keep moving even when it doesn't make sense.  Because movement makes you feel productive and it makes you forget for just a minute how completely chaotic things feel.  But God wanted me to feel it for a minute so that I could let it go. 

I lay there and waited for the rest of the road to be ready. It's not that it was broken and God forgot to fix it.  More like I was broken so He needed to slow me down, stop me, make me wait and heal me. I visualized Him building things on the other side, fixing the road, making the broken places even, filling in pot holes...but really He was doing all of that within me as I rested at the base of the mountain. 

Flat on my back looking at the sky, I thought about Mount Moriah (where we got Zoe's middle name, which means "God is my teacher"). That's where God told Abraham to sacrifice his child; to give his long-awaited child back to His creator.  Abraham didn't understand,  none of it made sense, but he obeyed anyway.  Mount Moriah represents trust, obedience, sacrifice, and faith. Exactly what I needed in order to hand my children and their test results back over to our Creator. 

I had this instinct that he wasn't going to have me climb this mountain; I felt like He would obliterate it. He was preparing me and preparing the other side of the road and I just had to wait. The Courtney on this side of the road wasn't ready to be the Courtney on the other side of the road. Waiting was the tool God was using to prepare me. 

Over the coming days, suddenly I just didn't care about test results anymore.  In fact, I couldn't make myself care. It was freeing and it was wild. I spent the whole summer driving to hospitals seeking out answers and instead of giving me answers, God did the unexpected and removed the need to have them. He gave me peace that existed outside of those answers. I didn't even know to pray for that. 

And then...he started giving me answers. Ha! One of the tests (not the micro array) that insurance didn't cover was suddenly covered without anyone requesting it. Not only that (get ready for this) but unbeknownst to the genetics department, Willow's blood was sent out and tested so by the time they called to tell me that it was covered, they also had the results.  The test was negative. I laughed into the phone. 

Then we had a worship service at church that I walked into telling God, "I am not praying to receive anything, ALL I am focused on tonight is singing praises to you and worshiping your name." Two people prayed over my children--specifically Willow-- by name.  She started making some small visible progress the very next day. THE VERY NEXT DAY!

You may remember that I wrote a blog this summer called Walking with Willow on Diagnosis Road. Here is a small excerpt:

Every now and then The Lord gives me a phrase or a line.  Eventually it turns into a status or a blog or a poem. He gave me "Diagnosis Road" and I tucked it away in the note pad on my phone until I knew what it meant. After this day of staying away from the internet, He told me what it was.  He said:

"diagnosis road doesn't lead to a diagnosis, it leads to Me." 

Diagnosis Road was such an oft repeated phrase this summer for our family and then it hit me. 

Where is the mountain that stopped me?

ON A ROAD 

On...Diagnosis Road?
What?

That's the road I'm running on
I've been running on Diagnosis Road this whole time!!!!

Maybe God had to put the mountain right smack in the middle of Diagnosis Road so that I would stop and remember. Him. It's not about diagnosis, it's about Him. I marathon with Him I don't sprint ahead to diagnosis (or answers).

I knew then. God wasn't going to move this mountain, I was. 

In His strength. 

"Move," I commanded, and it did. I saw the road ahead and it looked just like the road behind. Only I was different.  I jogged up to Jesus, asked Him to order my steps and we took off, side by side. 

Then I learned why it was there in the first place. 

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