by: diane.connis@gmail.com
Those grieving a loss hear this one often, “But he/she would want you to be happy.”
So what does this really mean? Don’t grieve for them? Pretend the one human, who for the most years and who gave the most meaning and joy to life, is still here?
Impossible!
The thing is, no one gets to tell you how to grieve. Not even your deceased person. Not even THEY get to dictate how much you hurt or how much you miss them because they’re gone. 
Would Mike want me to be happy? Of course. One of his goals in life was to keep me happy (and I him). But neither of us could ever know how hard it is to be happy without the other.
We don’t know how to minimize the giant hole that just opened up and sucked everything that was normal, safe and stable into it so mourners resort to masquerading happiness because that makes everyone around them back off and feel better.
The fresh, horrid grief of those early days has subsided and I finally experience moments of happiness. Small rays of light in the darkness that is Mike’s absence. But it’s taken this long and still, after all this time, an underlying operating system of continual sadness runs in the background of everyday life.
And that’s the point. We can’t rush people back to cheering up or looking on the bright side. The bright side looks bleak and dim for someone who has suffered such monumental loss. Rebuilding an unwanted life from the ground up takes time.
Trish Harrison Warren, author of Prayer In The Night: For Those Who Work or Watch or Weep, says, “We are taught to minimize grief.”
Allow grievers the time they need to be in their sorrow, let the trigger tears and heart crushing pain play out. Weep with those who weep, for as long as they weep.
Eventually we will rejoice with them, because we stayed around long enough to see them discover joy again.
Only then are we better practiced in comforting the broken hearted.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I have always been a believer in the truth that our breath is God given. “And the Lord God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living being” Genesis 2:7.
We don’t own our breath. We borrow it. He supplies it for life on this planet and when that last breath leaves our lungs we return to Him.
Humans have no ability to create the absolutely necessary intangibles of breath and air. They belong to our Creator and thus, we belong to Him.
The evening I returned home to find my late husband dead, I instantly couldn’t breathe. In fact it was difficult to breathe in the weeks, months and even the first year following that life changing event. For months, I gasped for air in the middle of reoccurring panic attacks and often held my breath without realizing it. Breathing, which occurs involuntarily and without thought, became something I was constantly and noticeably aware of in Mike’s absence. The loosing of him literally took my breath away and I wonder now, if the abnormal heart arrhythmia I began experiencing in the months that followed, were tied not only to my broken heart, but possibly a full lack of oxygen it needed to function properly.
In this pandemic year, the literal masking and partial breathing of the oxygen our body needs to fully function has been hard on all of us. We’ve become afraid of the people and air around us. Breathing has suddenly become scary. Fear, suspicion and grief hold us in their grasp as we deal with a variety of great loss - health, loved ones, finances, safety, security, freedom and a lack of cultural civility.
During the past several years the importance of intentionally taking time to stop and breathe has often rescued me. Father God has repeatedly reminded me, His breath is inside me. He holds my life in His heart and hands.
I need not fear what is happening around me. Do I still? Yes. Of course. More than I should. But He is patient to reassure when my thoughts wander into crazy territory. He understands how afraid and emotionally frail I am. He has deep concern for my humanity.
He doesn’t condemn, but calls me to be still.
Sit quietly for a while. Turn off the noise. The news. The social media. Eat a healthy meal. Drink some water. Share my thoughts with a trusted friend. Stand outside for a few minutes. Walk in nature. Take in the beauty of His creation. Talk to Him with raw and open honesty. Exhale the anxiety and the pervasive and swirling negatives. Inhale Father’s goodness, allowing His peace to permeate the spirit and soul once again.
And put this on repeat, like a reminder notification, popping up daily (or even hourly) on a mobile phone.
In the midst of these trying times, every now and then, we have to take the mask off our face and our soul and simply breathe. Don’t forget.
Breathe. Breathe. Just Breathe.
“The Spirit of God has made me and the breath of the Almighty gives me life.” Job 33:4 “..he [God] himself gives to all mankind life and breath and everything.” Acts 17:25
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I admit, I‘ve run out of words.
Well, ‘run out’ might not be the exact terminology. Words still exist, but they are a continuous whirlwind of thoughts, crashing into each other and shattering in uselessness to the bottom of my brain.
I‘ve been asked, why I‘m not writing and posting regularly like I was. When you can’t make sense of anything, expression can be difficult. Everything I once thought I knew, believed, subscribed to, seems trivial and irrelevant. All the knowing-of-things I once held dear, is nothing but the fluff of a spent dandelion blowing in a tornado.
I need to drown out the noise of this world, the constant chatter both past and present, ricocheting off the walls of my heart and mind. So many words and ideas others have spoken into me since childhood. Piled deep and high. I’ve been stripped inside to the nakedness of my soul and exhausted by years of ideas, opinions and dogmas I have heard and still hear.
Confession time? Complete honesty? All my cards laid out on the table? I‘m too tired to figure it out anymore. Too broken to put me back together. I‘ve reached the end of myself and I don’t care how unspiritual it looks. The mask is off. I can’t fake it ‘til I make it. Can’t stomach the cliches and pat answers I always thought were truth.
I am asking God to help me understand Him in ways I never have before. I am begging my Father to reveal Himself to me. Not from the interpretation of others. And not from my own contrived misconceptions of who He is. But for Himself.
What about Him do I not know? What about Him do I not understand? If I’m going to move forward from here I desperately need to hear His voice and understand His heart. For me. There’s little to say right now. I must be still and learn to know He Is God.
I‘m like Mary, who after the angel appeared to tell her she would bear God’s Son in human flesh, pondered all these things in her heart.
Or Job, who after striving with so much sorrow before his Creator, put his hand over his mouth and shut-up, realizing he had spoken things without knowledge, from the limits of human reasoning.
Or Paul, who considered everything he had ever accomplished prior to knowing Christ, the power of His resurrection and fellowship of His suffering, nothing but garbage. Manure. Useless.
The encouraging news in the dark night of my soul is this; even the dandelion, that blooms, withers and blows away, is rooted in solid ground and when the winter is over, lives again. Even the garbage heap can be recycled into new usefulness. Even the manure pile is tilled back into the earth to enrich a new harvest. In the fullness of time and the proper season of renewal, all can be restored.
So in this season, I exist on what I still know that I know to be true. God is good. He is faithful. He does not abandon. And He loves me. At present little else matters to me.
It is all the words I have. And it is enough.
For now.
Psalm 46:10 “Be still and know that I Am God.”
Luke 2:19 “But Mary kept all these things, and pondered them in her heart.”
Job 40:4-5 “I lay my hand over my mouth. Once I have spoken, but I will not answer; Yes, twice, but I will proceed no further.”
Job 42:3 “I have uttered what I did not understand, Things too wonderful for me, which I did not know.
Philippians 3:8-10 “ Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ and be found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith— that I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death.”
Lamentations 3:22-24 “The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; his mercies never come to an end; they are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul, “therefore I will hope in him.”
Matthew 28:20 “I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
The American Dream was built on a mind set of individualism and independence.
The idiom ‘pull yourself up by your bootstraps’ is deeply ingrained in the western worldview and taken to a positive outcome has helped our country and culture evolve into an innovative and creative influence in the world. 
The origin of this descriptive phrase isn't known. It refers of course to boots and the straps that some boots have attached to help the wearer pull them on and to the imagined feat of a lifting oneself off the ground by pulling on one's bootstraps. This impossible task is supposed to exemplify the achievement in getting out of a difficult situation by our own efforts
There are life circumstances that come along and leave us so weak, broken and devastated we have no strength left to pull ourselves up or out. Our own efforts are dismantled and truthfully God never meant for us to rely solely on our own striving and limited human understanding in life. We are designed to depend on Him and each other.
So what do we do when our bootstraps are broken? Who and what do we rely on when our inner resources are drained?
I’ve been told many times in the past months to ‘stay strong’, ‘be strong’. Not helpful. You can’t be strong when you’re not. It’s like asking someone with broken legs to walk on them. Anyone with logical thinking understands this is a crazy expectation.
These are the times we are to be strong for each other, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ,“ Galatians 6:2.
What is the law of Christ? Jesus made it clear before He went to the cross. “A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another: just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another,” John 13:34.
Loving each other means there will be times we are called on to carry someone else when they are too weak, too devastated, to carry themselves (even Jesus needed help carrying the cross to Golgotha). It means we will need to cover another with our own faith in their time of lack.
We step into their situation, however uncomfortable, not to advise, fix or offer theological cliches, scripture quoting or explanations for suffering, but just to be near, to hold up, to ‘weep with those that weep,’ We show up. We climb into the devastation. We stay for the duration.
We are all meant to be boot straps for one another. There may also be times when we need to be someone’s boots, never mind the straps!
If someone near you is too broken to pull themselves up, pick them up and carry them. Transfuse some of your own presence, strength and faith to another for a while until they are back on their feet.
You never know when you’re own bootstraps might be broken and you’ll need someone to carry you.
“Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep. Live in harmony with one another.” Romans 12:15-16
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 There was water all around. No land in sight on any horizon.
So small and insignificant in the sea, the cork was lost and floating aimlessly. Disconnected from her original purpose. Identity gone. Afraid. Alone. Without hope of rescue.
Suddenly a wall of water loomed in the distance, racing forward, a formidable tsunami wave that would certainly be the end of it all. The force of the wave shoved the cork, flipping and swirling, to the bottom of the ocean and the overwhelming despair and fear accompanying it became far greater than the violence of the water itself. Instant panic seized her. She would never survive. Not this time.
The swirling current subsided and the cork drifted to the top, exhausted and disoriented. Just when a moment of relief came to the great sea, another wall of water appeared, sending her to the bottom of fear and loss again, this cycle continuing in never ending successions.
In slow agonizing increments, the waves eventually pushed the cork toward shore. She tumbled back and forth in the swirling breakers until she was finally left lying for days, with little energy left to care, in the sand.
On a bright sunny day a woman and her child walked the beach looking for treasures to fill their plastic pail. They found the cork, took her home, washed her and made her part of a useful and beautiful display in their home. The cork had come through the deep, dark waters and found purpose. New, different, even foreign, but a purpose just the same.
In my deepest despair I asked God for something, anything, to reassure me I would survive the devastating death of my husband.
He gave me this dream. I am the cork.  Can new life be restored after such loss? Can the thing meant to destroy, become the catalyst for rescue and new meaning? Can the waters of dark despair bring forth renewed hope?
God promises I will not drown. Hope, like a cork, rises again. It’s true, life will never go back to what it was. I will never be the same. There are moments, hours, days, nights when I hate the reality of this truth, but I long for the time when I might be excited about living, when I finally wash up on the shore of hope and find new joy, new purpose.
As each reoccurring wave continues to bury me in the depths, I hang on to Jesus, my life preserver, until hope floats again.
“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you, I have called you by name; you are Mine! When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they will not overflow you.” Isaiah 43:1-2
“And now, O Lord, for what do I wait? My hope is in you.” Psalm 39:7
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 On Christmas Eve of 1974, Mike asked me over to the apartment he and his brother shared. We’d been dating since June of that year. Not long, when I think about it now. I drove to the old house in our home town and climbed the stairs to the third story attic some eager landlord had turned into a makeshift resemblance of a living space. As I remember, It was sparsely furnished, befitting of two young bachelors barely out of high school. In the living room, a Christmas tree, set in front of a floor to ceiling window, was decorated with not enough lights and dime store ornaments. The only other furnishing was a shabby sofa which we leaned against as we sat on the floor, holding hands. That evening Mike reached under that old sofa, pulled out a tiny box with a red bow on top and asked me to marry him. He was eighteen. I was nineteen. I’ve never celebrated a Christmas without him since. Until now. Year after year, Mike was my Christmas tradition. He was the constant in every season; from setting up the tree, then sitting on the couch to watch the kids and I decorate it, or hiding gifts all over the house and warning me not to peek if I found bags and boxes in strange places, to his impatient waiting for the pie to come out of the oven, so he could harass me endlessly to have a piece before Christmas dinner. Forty three Christmas seasons have come and gone and now, so has he, and I have to figure out how to rewrap Christmas in a different package, one that doesn’t continuously assault me with loss, emptiness and tears. I don’t know how to do Christmas without my husband. I don’t even know where to start. I do know that Christmas will never be the same again. One certainty of this season is a confidence in Who it has always been about. I know the Jesus we are celebrating. While everything feels disheveled, broken and uncertain; in the middle of my sorrow, my hope is in The One the prophet Isaiah foretold and Jesus himself proclaimed to be: “ The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me, because the Lord has anointed Me to preach good tidings to the poor; He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God; To comfort all who mourn, to console those who mourn in Zion, to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness; That they may be called trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.” Isaiah 61:1-3, Luke 4:18-21. No other Christmas season has it ever been as clear as in this one, and never have I been more thankful for Emmanuel who came for me. Emmanuel who is with me. I SO qualify to receive His promise of hope and redemption and He does not disappoint. Jesus is the gift that keeps on giving. In whatever difficult, impossible, unbearable, crushing situation you’re facing this Christmas, you qualify too. Merry CHRISTmas!
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I've been Pastor Mike's wife for many years. I no longer have a pastor husband and I’m no longer a wife. You don't realize how much of your identity is tied to your spouse until they're gone. Everything I thought I was changed in one day. I know who I am in Christ. That's not the issue. I just don't know who I am on this earth. Not without Mike. This isn’t a path I planned. The choice was made for me. It’s the beginning of a journey to discover my new 'alone' earth identity and everything within me is resisting this road I must travel. There is so much loss this side of Heaven and earth life consists of constant change. But where there is great loss the potential for gain is greater. “Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland.” Isaiah 43:18-19. In this present wilderness, as I’m stripped of my former self, there’s no guarantee of what the future holds or what I will become. But God promises to make a way. He promises water in the wasteland and I want to trust the day will come when a ‘new thing’ springs up. I‘ll no longer be consumed by the past but will have hope for the future. No Lord, I don’t see it! Or perceive it. Not now. Don’t let me give up. Help me to keep moving forward. “He who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also He said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” Revelation 21:5. I surrender it all to You. Trustworthy and True One. Make me new.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 Most of us have experienced sorrow in our lifetime. I certainly have. A child born with a disability. An illness that stoled my ability to do certain things. My grandmother and my parents when they died. A brother who has struggled with mental illness most of his life. Dreams that haven’t come true. Loss of friendship. Circumstances that took me down paths I never planned on. This current grief has taken me to an entirely new level, like nothing I’ve ever faced before. It is complicated. And messy. And confusing. It takes my breath away. Makes my heart feel like a rock inside my chest and haunts me with thoughts of packing a bag and fleeing to outrun it. It wakes me up in the night, fills me with dread, fear and tidal waves of sobbing I never knew were humanely possible. I never would have suspected anger to be part of grief. This emotion has surprised me the most. It sneaks up on me at the most inopportune moments and is triggered by ridiculous things. Like struggling to open a jar that I would normally hand to Mike and when the lid won’t budge I’m overwhelmed by a sudden urge to throw it across the room. I don’t know how many times in the past few weeks, I’ve said out loud to my missing man, “So where are you when I need you? Sure, you’re prancing around on streets of gold having the time of your life and I’m stuck down here with all this mess! Thanks a lot for leaving me!” I’ve found myself angry for having to do all the things he usually did. Taking the trash to the roadside on Tuesday nights. Dealing with the hurricane roof that needs to be replaced. The endless amounts of paperwork and phone calls and cleaning the pool. Most people hate pool maintenance but Mike liked it. Maybe because It’s mindless work. He used his brain so much overseeing the finances of entire organizations and managing people that cleaning tranquil water had a relaxing effect on him. Almost every night after work, he’d come home, change his clothes and go scoop out the pool. In the hot summer months he’d clean it while he was in it. The disadvantage of having a garden inside your pool screen is the leaf debris that ends up in the pool. Last week after a windy rain, I went to scoop leaves and floating flowers out of the water. The scoop pole is long and awkward, I kept smacking the screen frame and kitchen windows with it and it took me longer than I expected. Debris I just picked up would escape the net and I was getting frustrated. Mike always made it look so easy. I finally finished, slammed the pole back onto the hooks where it hangs and yelled up at the sky, “There! I cleaned the stupid pool! I did YOUR job and it looks nice! Aren’t you proud of me?!” Then I went back in the house and slammed the door. One minute later I was sobbing. It’s so confusing, this grief. While I’ve considered myself to a pretty stable person, the roller coaster I’m on right now surprises me with twists and turns I don’t see coming until I’m in them. I don’t like roller coasters. They fill me with fear and make me sick. I avoid them. But it seems I’ll have to ride this one out for a while. I do know God is in the seat next to me and He’s not surprised by any of it. He know’s I’m flesh. I’m week, flawed and tired and He doesn’t add guilt or condemnation on top of anything I feel right now. And I’ve lived long enough to know feelings are only reactions to stuff we don’t want, like or understand. They are the like mist rising off my pool on a cool Florida morning. Ascending, dissipating and rising again while the water remains, solid and steadfast underneath. I miss my Mike with everything in me and my tipsy, flimsy faith, reaches for the Solid One who undergirds me in all of life. God has been and always will be the constant who provides an anchor point where my faith and reality collide. This roller coaster will come to a stop and eventually I’ll get off and say, “Whew, what a horrible ride. But I made it.” Looking forward to that. A lot. I’m honestly admitting I don’t like where I am right now but when “I walk through valleys as dark as death…the Lord is with me” (Psalm 23:4). He’s with me in the anger, the sorrow, the sobbing, the confusion and even brief moments of joy. He’s bigger than my emotions and greater than my circumstance. He is my God. He weeps with me, loves me and isn’t freaked out by anything I feel or how I react to this new normal I’m adjusting too. I trust Him to carry me through this process and bring me out on the other side because “[my] Maker is [my] husband: the Lord Almighty is His name. He is [my] redeemer. He is called the God of all the earth” Isaiah 54:5.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 David and I brought Mike home in a 3X6 box yesterday. For now he is resting on the top shelf of the closet we shared covered in that silly Panama Jack hat he liked in Seaworld's gift shop. Forty two years of a life together and when it’s done you're handed a box. Talk about putting things in perspective! My son and I sat in the car and cried together, feeling as if we're living the book of Ecclesiastes right now. The things of Earth have become extremely dim and eternity seems very near. Nothing here matters In this moment; not our homes, our cars, food, money, the long, long, long to do list, or even David’s soon to be published book. I admit, I’m saddened the death of his father has stolen David’s excitement for his accomplishment. “Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher, vanity of vanities! All is vanity. What does man gain by all the toil at which he toils under the sun?” Ecclesiastes 1:1. Heaven is near and reminding us of what really matters. Obviously we must continue living and find provision for our journey here, but all of that is far less important than knowing the Father Heart of God and loving people. Whatever time remains for us, we will continue honoring Mike’s legacy by doing just that, until it is our turn to proclaim: “ I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that day, and not only to me but also to all who have loved His appearing,” 2 Timothy 4:7-8. Welcome home, Michael Connis!
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I’ve gone to the grocery store almost every week in my forty two years of marriage and family raising. Multiplying fifty two weeks in a year by forty two years equates to two thousand one hundred and eighty four times. Other than a parking lot ding on my car’s bumper, an occasional broken jar, squished peach or the bottom falling out of a full bag, it has been a nondescript task. Tuesday, October 3rd, 2017, I came home from the grocery store to find my husband dead in the front yard. There is absolutely nothing nondescript about that and I’m not sure I’ll ever look at buying groceries the same again. Mike’s last words to me were, “I’ll see you when you get back.” He didn’t. Now I attempt to navigate from here. The shared weight of responsibility Mike carried for Jon has been added entirely to me. It is heavy. I feel as if I’m suffocating right now. I’m hanging on to Jesus like the leaf of a tree in a hurricane. I see and feel the concern, love and prayers of those around us and am incredibly grateful to all who are rallying around me and Jon. But I’ve noticed the frequently asked question seems to be, “How are you doing?” So I’m feeling the need to explain to those who have yet to experience this particular type of storm, the difficult answer to this question. Quite honestly, I don't even know how I'm doing. There is no answer. However, an attempt to put it into words might go like this. I am a bucket of mashed potatoes. I have been picked, peeled, quartered, boiled, whipped, shoved through a sieve for extra fine-ness and tossed onto Florida’s Interstate 4 at rush hour to be run over by three hundred vehicles a minute. For the unforeseeable future, my answer to the ‘how you doing’ question will be “Mashed Potatoes and God is still good!” Just have a spatula to peel me off the pavement and a little salt and butter when you see me. I’m hoping these mashed potatoes will eventually be able to feed a hurting, desperate soul somewhere on the interstate of life. “The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” Psalm 34:18
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 Jon's been to the sedation dentist five times in the past eight months. We still have two to three more appointments to finish all the repair needed and then there's the question of whether there'll be more in the future. There's always this thing about Jon's future (and not just his teeth). It wants to hang over me like a dark cloud, more than I care to admit. I don't worry about our son, David. I think about him everyday, but never worry about him. But Jon? Oh yes! I worry about him plenty and have for many years. The older he and I get, the more it weighs on me. Maybe this is normal for parents of kids who need care and supervision their entire lives. Is it? Or am I alone here? I can be having a conversation with you and in the far recesses of my mind I'm thinking about Jon. I can be at the grocery store, in a church service, on a cruise, visiting my grandson; I can be anywhere doing anything and Jon is present in my thoughts. He's always on my mind. Other's tell me, "Well you shouldn't worry so much. It's in God's hands." I smile and reply, "Thank you, that's true. You're right. Pray for me." But honestly, what I sometimes want to shout is, "That's easy for you to say!" So how do we trust God in situations that continue day after day, year after year? It's real. It's in our face every morning when we rise and every night when we lay down. How do we find peace and contentment in this place? Can I ever reach a place of total surrender here? Can I ever mature enough in God to never feel this anxiety again, even when nothing has changed? Can I get through a day without having to lay it down at Jesus' feet again and again? Today. Tomorrow. And the next day. Or the one after that. I don't know. I want to. Worry wears me out. It's exhausting. Jesus said not to worry about tomorrow (Matthew 6:34) but in context, He was talking about material goods needed for life: food, drink and clothes. He wasn't talking about my son. Apostle Paul also wrote in Philippians 4:12 that he had "learned the secret of being content in every situation" but also related this to material needs; hunger, abundance and lack. He wasn't talking about Jon either. So I look at these: "Cast your cares on the Lord and He will sustain you.." Psalm 55:22. "Don't worry about anything, instead pray about everything." (Apostle Paul) Philippians 4:6. "..Cast all your anxiety on Him (Jesus) because He cares for you" 1 Peter 5:6-8. "Come to Me (Jesus) all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest" Matthew 11:28. "Peace I leave with you; My peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid" (Jesus) John 14:27. I read these promises and realize this worry free existence we hope for, may NOT be a 'I've finally arrived' deal. I wonder if we ever reach the pinnacle of ability to sail through a trouble filled earth life without angst. As believers in an all powerful and involved-in-life God, maybe we do ourselves and others a disservice when we expect to reach a super spiritual level of never worrying about anything, ever again, this side of Heaven. We read our Bibles and cliché these scriptures into meaninglessness, beating ourselves up for failing and feeling sub-standard for not measuring up. Could it be these promises aren't about removing worry from life permanently, but instructions for surrendering it daily? If "faith is the substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not yet seen," (Hebrews 11:1) then everyday I need to lay what I hope for at His feet. Everyday while I wait 'for what I have not yet seen' I need His strength to battle the enemies of worry, doubt and fear. Everyday I pray. Everyday I cast my anxiety on Him. Everyday I come to Him for peace and rest. Everyday I run to Him with my problems. Everyday I choose to trust Him. Everyday I believe He loves me. Everyday I lay my questions, concerns, fears and worries before Him. Everyday I surrender Jon, his future and mine, back to Him. Today. Tomorrow. And the next day. And the one after that. The better question to ask is this: "Can trouble or problems or persecution separate us from His love?" Romans 8:35 When I remember I'm loved, it's easier to let go. When I remember I'm loved, I worry less. When I remember I'm loved, I breathe deeper. When I remember I'm loved, I surrender completely. "But in all these troubles we have complete victory through God, who has shown His love for us. Yes, I am sure that nothing can separate us from God's love.." Romans 8:38. In my daily surrender, God's love overtakes my worry. When His love is always on my mind, His love always wins. "..nothing in the whole created world—will ever be able to separate us from the love God has shown us in Christ Jesus our Lord" Romans 8:39. Nothing. Will ever! Not Today. Tomorrow. And the next day. Or the one after that. Hallelujah!
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
My mother passed on to her eternal home in 1994. She's been gone twenty three years now and in many ways I'm happy for her. A strange thing to say? Maybe? But most of what I remember about my mother was the difficulties she endured.  Shortly after I was born, she had a complete and devastating nervous breakdown and was committed to Willard State Psychiatric Hospital in upstate New York for several years. Over my lifetime, I've heard bits and pieces of family speculation and attempted to piece ambiguous information together, but I still don't really know why. These things were not discussed openly by previous generations as they are now. My older brother went into foster care and I was shuffled around between grandparents and a few aunts and uncles before finally landing with a family down the street who had five kids of their own. They took me in and it was because of them and out of desperation to see his family reunited, that my Dad had his come to Jesus experience. Though our family life was imperfect, and at times dysfunctional, I was raised with a foundation of Bible, church and a solid belief in God that later became an anchor for my own life storms. When Mom finally came home from Willard, she wasn't the same, at least that's what I was told. I don't remember her to be anything other. She was just Mom. She was somewhat timid, emotionally fragile and often fearful, yet I knew she loved me, though I have no memory of her ever saying so. She was a cigarette addict (wasn’t everyone in the 50's?), married to a hard-working, sometimes overbearing and exacting man, she never learned to drive and developed rheumatoid arthritis sometime in her thirties. I would come home from school to find her sobbing on the sofa, a knee or wrist so painfully red and swollen she couldn't function. Mom never went to a doctor and never took anything for the pain but aspirin, which does nothing to alleviate any of RA's symptoms, as I would later discover for myself. I remember her walking me to kindergarten and later, on days I walked home from elementary school for lunch, there was usually a grilled cheese sandwich and hot Campbells soup waiting on the small table in the corner of the kitchen. On days she felt better, she'd be in the kitchen cooking meals or doing endless loads of wash and hanging heavy, wet clothes on the rope stretched between the shed and the sour cherry tree in our backyard. Because she didn't drive, I'd sometimes ride my pink, banana-seat bike two miles to the corner store, with a note giving me permission to purchase a pack of cigarettes. An extra nickel or dime would buy me some penny candy, then I'd happily pedal back home. On hot summer days, she'd occasionally hand me a dime, and I'd dash to the curb for a cherry snow cone from Mr. Frosty's truck. Somewhere toward the close of her fiftieth decade, RA got the best of her. She couldn't walk anymore. With the cushioning cartilage and synovial fluid in her knees gone, the joints fused and locked in place. She finally had wheels of her own - a wheelchair - and Dad became her caregiver. Several years passed before he couldn't lift her anymore. At age sixty she went to live in a nursing home and at sixty-two she died of cancer. Unfortunate for us, but fortunately for Mom, only in that her wheelchair, pain and emotional suffering stayed behind when she left this earth. What I remember most about my mom? She was always there for her family and rarely complained. She didn't whine, claim entitlement or victim-hood. With no social media on which to unveil every detail of her life and in the oblivion of my youth, I gave little thought to the difficulties she faced. It wasn't until I developed rheumatoid arthritis in my mid-twenties and had a family of my own that I came to appreciate my mother's perseverance. I wonder what dreams she had as a young girl and if she ever felt slighted because her life didn't go as planned. Like so many mothers, she did the best she could under difficult circumstances and well into my adult years, I realized a simple truth; parents are human too and perfected people are non-existent. A sure mark of maturity is realizing this and forgiving ours for being flawed and possibly less than we hoped for. Maybe ingrained deep within my DNA, is a measure of my mother's endurance; an assistant in carrying me through life, as it did her. Someday I will tell her how grateful I am for the legacy she left me. "I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith." 2 Timothy 4:7
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I was on my hands and knees scrubbing the tile floor around the toilet for the fourth time in a week. Those of you who live with boys know they sometimes miss. Jon is not a boy. He's a man. And he still misses, way too often for my liking. As I applied bleach to the grout again, I sighed and breathed out loud, "I hope I can still get down here and do this when I'm 80," and felt a sudden hopelessness roll over me. Then I heard a still small voice in the depths of my soul. "I see you." My Bible reading that morning had brought me to the story of Hagar. Hagar was the slave of Sarai, Abram's wife, obtained in one of their detour trips to Egypt. Hagar came from a culture that worshiped multiple gods. The Egyptians had a god for everything, so Abraham's god, on her list of imaginative deities, was probably added only to appease the old folks. Hagar had no rights. She was a nobody. Her duty in life was to fulfill the wishes of another, and when barren Sarai grew tired of waiting for the son God had promised Abram, she did what was a common practice of their culture. Sarai sent Abram to sleep with her slave to claim a son through Hagar. Hagar was forced to become a surrogate mom. Genesis 16:1-3 "Sarai, Abram’s wife, had no children, but she had a slave girl from Egypt named Hagar. Sarai said to Abram, “Look, the Lord has not allowed me to have children, so have sexual relations with my slave girl. If she has a child, maybe I can have my own family through her.” Abram did what Sarai said." When Hagar became pregnant she realized she now had an advantage over Sarai. Hagar got herself an attitude and who could blame her, really? What's Sarai going to do to her now that she's carrying Abram's child? Someone who’s had no control over her own destiny finally had an edge. Eventually the relationship between the two women became so intolerable, Hagar ran away. Genesis 6:7-12 finds Hagar beside a spring of water in the desert having a conversation with an angel of God. She was told to go back home and continue to serve Sarai. But God promised Hagar her son, would become a great nation also. He gave her hope. Not one of Egypt's gods had ever spoken to her. Not one of them cared enough to show up and reassure a despairing slave girl. But Abram's God did. And she was amazed. This God knew who she was. Where she was. And what she needed. This God had eyes to see her and ears to hear her. This God cared! Then, "the slave girl gave a name to the Lord who spoke to her: "You are ‘God who sees me,’” because she said to herself, “Have I really seen God who sees me?” Genesis 6:13 I realized that day on the floor that God sees me. He said as much. And every time I get on the floor to scrub again, I am reassured He is pleased. What we determine to be small, insignificant, unseen and even annoying, matters greatly to God. God sees you driving to work again, that counter you wiped, the laundry washed and folded, the dishwasher you load, the toilet scrubbed, another diaper changed, the gas tank you just filled and each time you help lift that person in and out of his wheelchair. He sees the smile you brought to someone, the hug you gave, the ride you offered, the meal you cooked. He sees how tired, desperate and broken you are. It matters to Him. The unseen is important to Him. That thing done when no one watches. The mundane. The exhausting. The unappreciated. The irritating. He sees it all and He knows. Because my God is the God Who Sees! And He's your God too.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 Our story inspires people. At least, that’s what I hear. That’s what some tell me. I find that fascinating because it usually doesn’t feel the least bit inspiring while living it. It often feels frustrating, lonely, difficult, challenging, frightening and exhausting. But there’s one thing I’ve figured out about my wise, loving and mysterious God. He enjoys showing up in the middle of our mess! He loves to partner with us to make Himself known. If releasing the Hebrews from bondage was God’s only objective, He could have swooped into Egypt all by Himself and in any number of ways, set the Israelite nation free. So what was the long, drawn out process all about? The negotiating, petitioning, plagues and frustration. Moses was only doing what God had instructed. Why wasn't it easier? Scholars estimate the duration of all the plagues, until Israel’s release, was at least two months and possibly up to a year. The ancient Egyptians worshiped over 2000 deities. They had a god associated with every aspect of life; agriculture, fertility, water, rain, animals, death, insects, earth, sky, sun and moon. Even Pharaoh was thought to be a god. While delivering Israel, Jehovah was also trying to reveal Himself to the nation of Egypt as the One True God. The only way to do so was to prove His power greater over all the gods they imagined. Each plague addressed, at least one and maybe more, of their gods. In His mercy, God orchestrated this series of events to access the heart of Pharaoh and give him opportunity to change. But Pharaoh continually hardened his heart. The 'ahh-hah' moment never came. Pharaoh never accepted the revelation of a real God who cared enough about him to speak loudly and clearly, "I AM THE LORD!" not all these other things you worship. God will go out of His way to make Himself known. If only one Egyptian came to know the One True God in the middle of Israel’s mess, it was worth the struggle. Apparently some believed, because Exodus 12:37&38 tells us, "That night the people of Israel left Rameses and started for Succoth..a rabble of non-Israelites went with them.."  This thing you're going through right now might not be only for or about you. It might be so others see God's power at work in you while He is simultaneously orchestrating your solution. Don't be discouraged because your rescue, problem or promise is taking so long. Be patient. Trust the process. Remember others are watching. Someone else could be changed because of your faith and trust in a time of trouble. Someone else could see God's power at work in your struggle and have that 'ahh-hah' moment. "When I raise my powerful hand and bring out the Israelites, the Egyptians will know that I am the Lord" Exodus 7:5. Someone else could come to know He Is Lord, because of what He is doing for YOU! Exodus 9:29 “All right,” Moses replied. “As soon as I leave the city, I will lift my hands and pray to the Lord. Then the thunder and hail will stop, and you will know that the earth belongs to the Lord." Exodus 14:4 "I have planned this in order to display my glory through Pharaoh and his whole army. After this the Egyptians will know that I am the Lord!” Exodus 14:17&18 "My great glory will be displayed through Pharaoh and his troops, his chariots, and his charioteers. When my glory is displayed through them, all Egypt will see my glory and know that I am the Lord!”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
"Do unto others as they have done to you?" There are many times in life, relationships and circumstances we secretly wish Jesus had actually said it that way and more often than we like to admit, we react as if He did (Matthew 7:12). Here's what I know: People can disappoint  People can hurt People can reject People can ignore People can ridicule People can neglect People can be selfish People can be disloyal People can be harsh People can be intolerant People can be heartless People can be cruel People can be...just fallen, broken, messed-up people. So how do we respond when others become these 'People Can' folks? What is our reaction when people don't rise to the level of our expectations? The human tendency is to recoil, withdraw, take out a mental permanent marker and cross them off our internal, 'people-I-just-might-continue-to-like' list. I've said it and many times heard others say it, "They did/said ________. That's it! I'm done with them!" We wash our angry, offended hands of them and walk away; maybe not literally, but emotionally. We build walls, barriers and keep them distant; at the extreme fringe of our consciousness. They are cast to the outside of our tiny circle and are greeted, if it all, with a stiff jaw, hard heart and an icy attitude. Obviously, I'm not referring to abusive, immoral or illegal relationships. There may be people we need out of our life to vastly improve its' outcome. Go ahead and pray for these as you walk away. But in the everyday interactions between co-workers, friends, family, spouse, fellow believers and the cashier in the checkout line, we can be so easily offended, so quick to write others off. The truth is God did not write us off. He should have. We certainly deserve it. He did this instead: "For God so loved the world He gave..." John 3:16 "While we were yet sinners Christ died for us." Romans 5:8 "Father forgive them they don't know what they're doing." Luke 23:34 And if God, my Creator, did this for us, we can do no less for others. Jesus, our pattern and example of God walking and living on the earth said: "For if you forgive other people when they sin against you, your heavenly Father will also forgive you." Matthew 6:14 "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." John 15:12 "By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” John 13:35 "Love your enemies, bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, and pray for them which despitefully use you..." Matthew 5:44 In other words, "Do what I do. Treat others, not as they deserve, but in the same way I have treated you." He’s never turned his back on us, but gave it to the lash of scorners. He’s never walked away from us, but stumbled up a dusty hill, carrying the same tree that took His life. He’s never washed his hands of us, but allowed them to be pierced with nails of redemption. He’s never crossed us off his list, but hung on a cross to prove He will never stop reaching for us. This isn't a fuzzy, mushy, lollipops and sunshine sorta’ love. It's a, “This is hard and I don't feel like it, but it’s the right thing to do," kind of love (Luke 22:42). It's a love that puts relationship over being right. And a love, not for romantic, starry-eyed whimps, but for spirit led soldiers who will take up their cross and follow Him. "So in EVERYTHING, do to others what you WOULD HAVE them do to you, for this sums up the Law and the Prophets" Matthew 7:12. The addition of a few extra words changes everything. My prayer today, is they will also change me and you.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I met a Hero the other day. She is twenty five years old. She’s put aside her own hopes and dreams to care for a chronically ill family member. She's had to quit her job because the care needs are so time consuming. At an age when she should be having fun, dating, building a future, career or a family of her own, she cares full time for someone in need. She cries when no one is watching. She wonders what the future holds. She worries what will happen to her loved one. She worries what will happen to herself if something happens to her loved one. She feels guilt for wanting more. She doubts God at times. Her faith wavers even as she continues believing. She is a full time caregiver. Someone desperately needs her. She is there. She is learning at a young age the hardship and beauty of a laid down life. If you are a single young man you might want to consider a woman like her. She won't have much time to date, but she certainly knows about loyalty, selflessness and love; all the qualities that make a great spouse. She's the unapplauded in the background. One who performs the mundane today, tomorrow and the next day. But mundane is greatness when executed so selflessly. Those who are faithful in little things will be rewarded with much (Matthew 25:23, Luke 16:10). She will be honored for her faithfulness. Man may overlook. But God sees. He sees it all. He sees her. She is brave. She is strong. She is incredible. And He calls her Beautiful.
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 I now own a virtual "I Don't Get It" Box. It was delivered to me over the weekend after a conversation I had with a good friend. She's had a tough year and great loss. We talked about faith, and how it processes us through life circumstances that are more than difficult. Sometimes stuff happens that doesn't fit into our neat and tidy theological boxes. We can't check them off our doctrinal lists. Things happen that we can't explain and we have no idea which (thought-I-had-this-all-figured-out-already!) category to file them under. After this conversation with my friend, I woke up the next morning with a picture in my head. Some people call them visions or awake dreams. Call it whatever you want, but I saw me with a long line of people stretched out endlessly behind me, standing in front of a huge box inscribed with a large glowing font that said, "I Don't Get It." Everyone in line, including me, had a piece of paper in hand. I had written on the paper, parts of my life I question, things I don't understand and circumstances I have faced or still face that are confusing and seem to have no answers. I stepped up to the box and threw my paper in. When it hit the bottom the font on the front of the box changed and began to flash in bright neon over and over again, "Just TRUST Me. Just TRUST Me. Just TRUST Me. Just TRUST ME...." I may not 'get' many things but I get this message loud and clear. I don't need to analyze, understand, explain and figure everything out. I can't know everything because knowing ALL would make me God. Wasn't that we could be like God by eating the only off limits fruit from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, the original lie of the serpent? Man fell for the deception. He believed it. Do we still? God wants our trust. He wants us to believe Him. It's all He's ever wanted. So I lay aside my need to know and simply trust.. Because God, I believe You are good. I believe You are love. I believe You are faithful. I believe You are merciful. I believe You desire only the best for me, Today, no matter what happens, how I feel, whether I understand or not, I throw it all into my "I Don't Get It" box and... Just Trust You! “You will not certainly die,” the serpent said to the woman. “For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.” Genesis 3:4-5 “Those who know your name will trust in you, for you, LORD, have never forsaken those who seek you.” Psalm 9:10 “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make your paths straight.” Proverbs 3:5-6 "Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. John 14:1
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
We celebrated another wedding anniversary recently and as I dusted off our wedding album to reminisce, I smiled, flipping through the photos. Until I came to this one on the last page, this close up of our hands showing off our new wedding rings.  'Oh My Gosh!' I thought, 'My hands were so pretty and so straight once.' Six years after that photo was taken I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis. A crippling auto immune disease triggered at the birth of our first son and ten years later, ravaging through me like an eighteen wheeler squashing a bug, following the birth of our second. As much as I wanted to, I didn't have time to stay in bed and it really didn't matter, staying in bed hurt just as much as being up. Painful nights without sleep and miserable exhausting days were measured on a pain scale of bad and horrible, making the bad days seem good. My family needed me and with two active growing boys to care for, prayer and pills became my constant companion. Pain pills, steroids, low dose cancer drugs and weekly injections all kept me in function mode. My continuous prayers went from begging God for healing to demanding my body stop its destructive storm, and everything in between. As the disease progressed the cartilage and fluid cushion between joints eroded. Fingers and toes began to drift, tendons shifted and bones fused. Slowly I was forced to give up activities I enjoyed; skating, tennis, playing guitar, clarinet and keyboards, hiking, wearing sexy shoes, doing my nails and many more. The day I went to have my wedding ring cut in half to remove it from my swollen, misshapen finger was the culmination of how much rheumatoid arthritis had stolen. I cried tears of bitter resignation. Since then, I have made drastic changes which positively affected my health: our family moved to a warm climate, I renovated my eating habits, began light daily exercise and the practice of stress release through prayer, meditative scripture reading and writing, laughing often, letting go of offense, forgiving, listening to my body, pacing myself instead of pushing, saying 'No' when necessary, asking for help when needed and giving myself permission to have fun. Over the span of several years, I gradually reduced the amount of medications and have been off all drugs for a decade. But until God heals me completely, the joint damage remains. As I looked at that picture of my normal hands, a stark reminder of what once was, I realized I rarely think of it now. I've adjusted, adapted and moved on. My hands aren't pretty. I know that. They are crooked and disfigured. But they still function, awkwardly managing to do what needs to be done. They can still plant a seed or cut a flower in the garden, sew a stray button back on, slice an onion in the kitchen, butter toast, throw a load of laundry in the machine, reach for another person needing prayer, comfort or hugs, type this blog (two fingers at a time) and perform so many necessary tasks. I'm far from the young girl in that picture now. I can't go back there nor do I want to. Those days are gone and as the years roll by I am learning to be thankful for what is. Today. Right now. I am learning to trust God in all things - understood or not, healed or not - big or small. I'm grateful I still have hands. Crooked as they are, they belong to God. I will use them to bring help, blessing and hope to others as long as I can. And I will raise them in worship and surrender to Him as long as He gives me breath. Whether I'm healed on this side of eternity and in spite of the affliction and problems of this life, I choose to proclaim with Job of old: "As for me, I know that my Redeemer lives, and that as the last He will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been destroyed, yet in my flesh I will see God, whom I will see for myself, and whom my own eyes will behold, and not another." Job 19:25-27
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
The year 2004 was what I call Florida's Hurricane Summer. Four hurricanes plagued us in a span of about six weeks.  Exactly ten years ago today, Hurricane Charley, the storm that initiated the chaos, ripped through Central Florida. We were living in Kissimmee at the time in an older neighborhood with large lot lines. Our unique property, tucked away in a corner, consisted of two acres, a ranch style three bedroom, two bath main house with a pool and a detached, cozy one bedroom, one bath guest/in-law house out back, several sheds and a separate screen room where our hot tub lived.  The property backed up to a conservation area and was surrounded by lush jungle on all sides; thick Florida flora of wild palm trees, palmetto, gigantic oaks and hanging moss. Some people thought it scary and worried about what lived in those woods. Not me. I thought it was beautiful, until Charley. We moved to Florida in 2001 and had never been through a hurricane before, but as I looked out at all those trees, I began to wonder what they could crush if they started falling. The weather predictors vacillated for days over the path Charley might take, but when we finally knew the storm was coming for us, our family gathered in a tight circle and prayed for protection. Jon disappeared into his room and taped a paint stick perpendicular onto a yard stick forming a cross. He came back out and leaned it against the patio doors, his way of demonstrating God's watchful eye over us. He then went back in his room and refused to come out. I found him lying stiff as a board on his bed wearing a bicycle helmet, a jacket, and a pair of boots, clutching a flashlight. We'd had a new roof put on the main house a few months prior and fortunately never lost one shingle, unlike many of our neighbors, but the contractor forgot to nail down the three brand new skylights he installed and they blew off as Charley came barreling through. Rain was pouring into both bathrooms and the breakfast nook and it seemed as if the wind would lift the roof right off the walls. I ran to the storage closet and found some old plastic shower curtains and a large piece of clear vinyl, while Mike went out in the garage to retrieve his staple gun and an eight foot ladder. Wind was battering the garage door so hard he thought it would blow in. He quickly climbed over potted plants and outdoor furniture we had brought in from outside, to get to his tool chest. As hurricane rookies, we never thought about keeping the tool chest where it could easily be reached. Our son David, who was fourteen at the time, climbed up into those wide open ceiling holes in the middle of the storm to staple the plastic down. The pool solar panels had come loose and were flopping back and forth on the roof above his head. I held the ladder and prayed like a crazy woman for the panels to not slam through the roof opening and hit my son in the head, while the wind and rain roared around us.  By the time the storm passed it was dark outside and the power was down. We decided to wait until morning to go outside and access the damage. Neighbors went door to door with flashlights making sure everyone was alright. We didn't sleep much that night or the nights that followed It was a crazy, difficult time for many here in Central Florida. Our electricity was out for two weeks in the middle of Florida's hottest summer month.  But I learned to be grateful for things we Americans take for granted everyday: Water that comes from our faucets for bathing, cooking, cleaning, drinking. Without electric, our well pump was off and we had no running water in either house. I discovered how basic water is to human existence and realized I could live without many of the things we consider essential. I never want to be without water again. Every morning when I get in the shower and warm water runs over my sleepy body, I thank God for running water. Air conditioning in a summer climate that reaches into the mid to high nineties with humidity levels to match. The sheets felt wet when we lay down on them at night. The spices in the cupboard clumped into one large blob in their containers. We never sweat so much in all our born days. We all smelled bad, looked bad and were hot and miserable. I thank God every summer for AC. Garbage collectors became the most important people in the world. When all the food in the fridge spoils and there's no trash collector to come haul it away, it's not pleasant or pretty. Every week when I hear the trash truck stop at the end of our driveway I am grateful for those who do this vital work. Uninterrupted family time. Without TV, computers, phones or modern distractions we spent time playing table games by candle light, reading, talking and working together. David found Mike's old guitar in a closet and a hurricane catapulted our son's love affair with music into overdrive. He now plays, writes and arranges his own songs (listen at daveconnis.com). Safety of family and friends. Trees went down all around us, but the only structure crushed under a falling tree was one shed. It took months of cutting and clearing to rid our property of broken and fallen trees but my family, friends and neighbors were safe. No one was hurt. I am thankful everyday for the health and safety of those I love.  Looking back on it ten years later, Hurricane Charley is like the opening line in Charles Dickens' famous novel, A Tale of Two Cities. "It was the best of times; it was the worst of times." I hope to never go through a storm like that again but here's what I know, storms of all kind come and go. No one likes them, but we learn our greatest lessons in the middle of them. If we hang on through the blustering wind and pelting rain, pray and trust God we come out on the other side.. Humbler Wiser More thankful And a little more storm proof than we were before. Nahum 1:7 (ESV) The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; he knows those who take refuge in him. Matthew 8:23-27 (ESV) And when he got into the boat, his disciples followed him. And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.” And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. 2 Corinthians 4:17 (ESV) For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
What am I to do when the circumstances of life become more than I can bear; when rising from my bed in the morning is like climbing a mountain and putting one foot in front of the other is exhausting, painful, overwhelming; when questions assault me on every side, my mind becomes a windstorm of thoughts, tears flow like rivers and my heart is broken? I had to know. So I asked. I found a simple, yet most difficult answer. Trust. Do I believe in a God who can heal? Absolutely. I’ve seen and experienced healing and know He can and still does. Do I believe in a God who can miraculously deliver me out of trouble? Definitely. I’ve encountered that in my own life and the lives of others. Do I have faith for instant miracles? No question. All I need is faith the size of a mustard seed. I sweep dust from my kitchen floor bigger than that. Do I believe God is sovereign and I won’t always understand His ways? Yes. So my mission is simply to believe Him, to trust Him. No matter what. To trust I am loved. Romans 8:38-39 For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. To trust I am never on my own. Matthew 28:20 I am with you always, even to the end of the age.” Hebrews 13:5 "I will never leave you nor forsake you." To trust in the darkest place. Psalm 23:4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. To trust He has a plan for me. Jeremiah 29:11 I know the thoughts that I think toward you, says the Lord, thoughts of peace and not of evil, to give you a future and a hope. Philippians 6:6… being confident of this very thing, that He who has begun a good work in you will complete it. To trust He will bring me through. Isaiah 43:1-3 Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. For I am the Lord your God, the Holy One of Israel, your Savior. To trust He knows what I need. John 6:68 “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and to know that you are the Holy One of God.” I have nowhere else to go. I’ve searched everywhere. No one, nothing, provides the answers I want or need. It is only Christ who proves strong in my weakness, mighty in my suffering. “As a father shows compassion to his children, so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear Him. For He knows our frame; He remembers that we are dust.” Psalm 103:13-14 Jesus walked where I walk, He felt what I feel. He experienced the wide range of emotions life on Earth brings. He knows my frame, how I’m put together and what makes me tick. He knows without Him I’m nothing but a pile of dust. He lived, died and resurrected to fill the breach between Heaven and Earth. He did all that for me. When I’m weary, broken, my faith is small and my hope is almost extinguished, Jesus sees and hears. Compassion overtakes him. I imagine Him, sitting to the right of the Father, his nail scared hands resting on the arms of the throne room chair. He leans into God’s ear and pleads my case, reminding His Dad that it’s not easy being here, being human. He rehearses what it was like to come to Earth and wear the same flesh suit I wear, walking this hard, dusty ground; totally immersed in what it is to be one of us; hungry, tired, thirsty, in pain, rejected, despairing, alone. He understands I’m having a hard time, struggling under the weight of my affliction, breaking under the heaviness of my pain and pleads with the Father to provide extra mercy, a little more grace, to pour out some additional love from His endless supply; reassuring the hosts of Heaven that I’ll come around. I’ll be alright. When it’s all said and done I will come out of the furnace refined like pure gold, shining a little more like the beautiful gem that I was made to be. This adversity will transform me, “for I know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.”Romans 8:28 I’ll say like Joseph, “..you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good.“ Genesis 50:20 I’ll say with Apostle Paul,” But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God.” 2 Corinthians 1:9 In everything. At all times. And especially when life is too hard to bear. In God I will trust. “When there's no getting over that rainbow, when my smallest of dreams won't come true I can take all the madness the world has to give, but, I won't last a day without you.” ~ From the song, ‘I Won't Last A Day Without You’ by The Carpenters~ 2 Corinthians 4:7-10, 17-18 “But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the excellency of the power may be of God, and not of us. We are troubled on every side, yet not distressed; we are perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; cast down, but not destroyed; always bearing about in the body the dying of the Lord Jesus, that the life also of Jesus might be made manifest in our body…For our light affliction, which is but for a moment, works for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory; While we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen: for the things which are seen are temporal; but the things which are not seen are eternal.”. 2 Corinthians 12:8-10 “Concerning this thing I pleaded with the Lord three times that it might depart from me. And He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore most gladly I will rather boast in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Therefore I take pleasure in infirmities, in reproaches, in needs, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ’s sake. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
 The faulty premise of being told, “God won’t give more than you can bear,” eventually brought me to a place of confusion, guilt and even condemnation. I didn’t understand why I was crushed, overwhelmed, barely able to breathe? Why wasn’t I stronger, more in control in the midst of my misery and heartache? Where was my faith? Believing this about God leads to several flawed conclusions: - He sits on His throne handing out adversity to those He sees as tough enough to get through it. Does God look down on me and say, “That one there, see her? She’s a tough cookie. Give her the disabled kid and chronic illness. She can handle it.”
- He randomly tosses out varieties of affliction upon the earth and wherever it lands it lands. Does God have an Affliction Lottery Machine He draws from or a Wheel of Misfortune He spins until my name comes up? Whatever category it lands on is what I get to deal with in life?
I don’t think so. Who wants to believe in a God like that? That makes Him no different than other gods men have fabricated throughout history. God’s original intention for man NEVER included suffering. He created us and Earth in perfection. One result of living in a fallen, sin-filled, broken world is hardship and adversity. He also created man with the ability to choose. Sometimes our adversity is at the hand of others and we become victims of man’s free will; the spouse who leaves, the prodigal child, the friend who betrays or the child who is abused, kidnapped, murdered, the family killed by a drunk driver, the people who are maimed and die by a suicide bomber. Other times suffering is the result of our fallen and cursed earth; natural disasters such as flood, tornadoes, mudslides, hurricanes, earthquakes, tsunamis, fire, illness, disability and death. And still other afflictions come from our own decisions; addictions, bad habits and attitudes, faulty thinking, poor diet, lack of exercise, rest, discipline and self control. When my son was young and recited the classic child disclaimer, “But it’s not fair!” my reply was always, “Sorry kid, I was there the day you arrived. When the midwife put you in my arms, I checked you over from head to toe. I never saw a sticker on your behind that said you were exempt from the unfairness of life.” There are many in scripture who were overwhelmed by misery and suffering. If it’s true that God won’t give us more than we can bear, He better apologize to these folks. Job – “Why is life given to a man like me? God hasn’t told me what will happen to me. He has surrounded me with nothing but trouble. I sigh instead of eating food. Groans pour out of me like water.What I was afraid of has come on me. What I worried about has happened to me. I don’t have any peace and quiet. I can’t find any rest. All I have is trouble.” Job 3:23-26 David – “Save me, O God, for the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in the miry depths, where there is no foothold. I have come into the deep waters; the floods engulf me. I am worn out calling for help; my throat is parched. My eyes fail, looking for my God.” Apostle Paul – “For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, ofthe affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself.” 2 Corinthians 1:8 Hebrews Faith Heroes – “And others had trial of cruel mockings and scourgings, yea, moreover of bonds and imprisonment: They were stoned, they were sawn asunder, were tempted, were slain with the sword: they wandered about in sheepskins and goatskins; being destitute, afflicted, tormented…they wandered in deserts, and in mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth. And these all, having obtained a good report through faith, received not the promise…” Hebrews 11:36-39. Yes, even Jesus – “ And he [Jesus] was withdrawn from them about a stone's cast, and kneeled down, and prayed, saying, ‘Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me: nevertheless not my will, but yours be done.’ And there appeared an angel unto him from heaven, strengthening him. And being in an agony he prayed more earnestly: and his sweat was great drops of blood falling down to the ground” Luke 22:41-44 Existence on Planet Earth is often an exercise in our definitions of unfairness. We all experience cycles of joy and pain, laughter and sorrow, contentment and frustration, peace and unrest. No one is exempt from tasting the full range of circumstances life doles out. Jesus said, "In the world you will have tribulation…” John 16:33 and “He [God] makes His sun to rise on the evil and on the good, and sends rain on the just and on the unjust,” Matthew 5:45. So I figured something out. Stuff happens, good and bad. We all get some and like everyone else, I get my share of each. Now what to do with it? If you’re discouraged about all this, don’t be. I’ve saved the good news for last. Scroll down for part three…’No Where Else to Go.’
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by: diane.connis@gmail.com
In 1979 Mike and I had been married four years and had just returned to our home town in upstate New York from Portland, Oregon. We were fresh out of Bible college; our heads were stuffed with theology and our hearts were stuffed with hope. We were ready to turn the world upside down for Christ. We took the volunteer position of youth pastor at our home church and settled in to see what God had planned for chapter two of our love story. Little did I know that the next three years were about to test everything I believed or thought I knew. Our first child, Jonathan, was born with Down syndrome, I was diagnosed with rheumatoid arthritis, Mike was diagnosed with toxic neuropathy, and my Jesus loving dad had a nervous breakdown and landed in the psyche ward. My well ordered little life suddenly swirled out of control. I was devastated, crushed, overwhelmed, and angry and questioned, prayed and sobbed, demanding answers. I reminded God of my “do good” list, how I’d spent my entire life in church, never smoked, did drugs, only drank alcohol once in high school, and was still a ‘good’ girl when I married, then moved all the way across country and back so my husband could go to Bible school. For some unknown reason, God had piled way more than I could handle on us, and I didn’t know what to do about any of it. There’s this thing that’s been gnawing at me for years, like a pebble in my shoe on a long walk. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard the verse from 1 Corinthians 10:13 quoted to me and others who are over whelmed by suffering, trials, sickness, death and loss beyond their control. “God won’t give you more than you can bear.” I’d heard it, believed it and even said it, but something wasn’t adding up. It seemed to me that plenty of people, in the Bible, in history and in my own life faced hardships far greater than is humanly possible to endure. I decided to study this verse out, instead of just believing what I had always been told, (see my post 'My Favorite Love Story': https://aplacecalledspecial.com/2013/08/29/my-favorite-love-story/ for more on that). What I found was revealing. This passage isn’t talking about suffering and affliction at all, it’s referring to the temptation of sin. In context, Apostle Paul explains how the Israelites complained in the wilderness, worshiped idols, indulged in revelry, committed sexual immorality and tested God with their grumbling. According to Brother Paul, their hearts were set on evil and as a result, some of them were killed by snakes and a destroying angel. (1 Corinthians 10:6-10) He follows that with: “These things happened to them as examples and were written down as warnings for us, on whom the culmination of the ages has come. So, if you think you are standing firm, be careful that you don’t fall! No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it.” 1 Corinthians 10:11-13. After this, Paul immediately addresses the subject of idolatry and what is lawful but not necessarily edifying behavior. At no point in this passage is there any reference to trials of affliction or suffering. The word tempted or temptation used here comes from the same Greek word which means to test, entice, prove, scrutinize, or examine and is used in the following verses to give confirmation of the same meaning. Matthew 4:1 “then Jesus was led by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.” M atthew 6:13 “…and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.” Luke 22:45-46 “When He [Jesus] rose up from prayer, and had come to His disciples, He found them sleeping from sorrow. Then He said to them, “Why do you sleep? Rise and pray, lest you enter into temptation.” Hebrews 4:15 “For we have not a high priest which cannot be touched with the feeling of our infirmities; but was in all points tempted like as we are, yet without sin.” James 1:13-15 “Let no man say when he is tempted, I am tempted of God: for God cannot be tempted with evil, neither tempts he any man: But every man is tempted, when he is drawn away of his own lust, and enticed. Then when lust hath conceived, it brings forth sin: and sin, when it is finished, brings forth death.’’ God does not tempt us to sin, EVER, but when we are tempted He is right there, providing a way out, strengthening us so we don’t give in. Jesus was the only one on earth who withstood the temptation of sin. By His sacrifice on the cross and by His example, we have everything we need to resist sin and also be forgiven when we succumb to its pull and power. As Christ followers, our greatest enemies are the world, our own flesh and the devil (Ephesians 2:1-3). All three seem hell bent (pun intended) on destroying us, so next time you are tempted to sin remember this, say this: “God is not tempting me beyond what I can bear but has provided a way of escape.” Based on my new understanding of this passage, I had just wiped one of our most used Christian clichés off the radar screen and had to come face to face with God and the problem of suffering. OK, so now what? What are we to do when our pain is greater than we can humanly bear and how do we justify that with a loving God? Scroll down for part two….'What Kind of God is He Anyway?'
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