The Greatness of Our God

Yesterday I wrote about Christen and the impact her life had on so many. And many of you responded to that post validating what was written there. Truly, her life was one that was well-lived. Today, I want to take the opportunity to sum up the many lessons I have learned by the grace of God in this past year.

I have written much about the goodness of God. And I will continue to write on that theme because I truly believe that if people, Christians or non-Christians, could grasp the depth of that truth, then whole families, towns, cities, states, and nations would be transformed.

But today, I write about His greatness.

I made a statement at Christen's funeral that has become a refrain for many, and one I, myself, continue to speak: God is going to receive greater glory from Christen's passing than by raising her up from her sick bed. When I made that statement, I knew it to be true. But I must confess to you all now that I made it purely on faith. At the time, I didn't really see it. Yes, there was an outpouring of love and many immediate testimonies. Still, I was waiting and watching and anticipating what God was going to do. Honestly, I was straining for it, wanting to see it with great desperation. 'Oh God, show Yourself in this!!!' was my constant prayer.

His loving and gentle hand came in, quieted my unrest, stilled my soul, and instructed me to focus on being with Him in my grief. To stop thinking so much about what He was going to do. By His grace, I was calmed and learned what it meant to remain in His love. To be quiet. Still. Silent. And let Him work on me. In me. Through me.

Dear reader, God rewards faith! As I focused on Him, He, being a good Dad, pulled back the curtain of His sovereignty just an inch and let me get a glimpse of how He was working. I saw a sliver of the big picture of His plan. I have had the amazing and humbling privilege of seeing and hearing all that God has worked in people's lives. I said "God will receive greater glory", and He has responded to that desperate, faith-filled statement by saying, 'See? Do you see what I'm doing? This isn't even a fraction of all I have in this. Do not fear or be discouraged. I am working it all out for good - yours and theirs. Remain in Me, and you will renew your strength.'

A few examples:

• My family members who have awoken from a spiritual slumber only to find God has given them a voice to influence generations of young people through their instruction both in the classroom and the ministry.
• The husband and wife who have twins but would have had triplets if not for losing one. They read the words of grief from this blog and wept together in their own grief. Months later, I had a beautiful conversation with the husband over the phone while on my way home from work, and we were mutually encouraged in how God was so good, so faithful, and so present in our lives.
• The books gathered and sent, along with Christen's photo and a short note about her, to Africa to help educate children there who had no access to something as simple as a book.
• The blog post about Christen's mothering, written by a friend for the purpose of advancing awareness of child sex trafficking in India.
• The dozens of Facebook direct messages I received that began with, "I've never met you or Christen, but..." which then went on to describe personal revivals, inspired faith, hope for tomorrow, and restoration from brokenness.
• The pastor that caught wind of this story, read up on this blog and Christen's, having never met either of us, spoke to his people about faith and joy and praise in the midst of suffering and grief, and saw his people unite in worship to an awesome God.
• The worldwide Church that united in prayer for Christen, me, and the kids. Every populated continent was represented in prayer. The unity of Christ's global Bride was evident in a way I've never seen.
• The married couple that looked at each other with fresh eyes, refusing to take any moment they have together for granted.
• The parents who hugged their kids just a little more and a little longer, who learned to grow in grace for their little ones.
• The woman who started reading Christen's blog and realized she was missing something: peace. And she learned that she could only find it in Christ, so she's been following Him ever since.

God did not have to reveal these examples (and the many more not listed). He didn't have to prompt them to message, email, text, call, or talk to me. He could have simply executed His will, great as it is. But He did. Because He's good and loving and gracious and merciful. It was His way of saying, 'Don't lose heart. I am working. I AM.' His grace for me at those times was beyond anything I could have expected. This was one of my lessons: God's grace is more abounding to His people than we often recognize. Be still in Him, and He will show us great things He's working in the world.

I learned that, when I was at the end of myself, He would show up to give me fresh strength. It was just enough for that day, but it was what I needed. Early on, I felt very much like 1/2 a person having to carry 2 people's loads. It was overwhelming. God showed up in the form of His people, surrounding me with love - love in helping with tangible needs as well as spiritual. He showed up in His Word or a song or the energy of my kids. He loved me with the truth as well. He did not allow me to pity myself or what I was facing. His constant, loving encouragement to me was, 'You have no option; you have to do this. So get up. Don't worry, you're not alone. I'm here.'

I learned what Christen meant when she asked, 'What about a supernatural grieving process?' As in, what can God really do with my grief if I am fully surrendered to His purposes? What He does is bring a peace that is unfathomable, a love that is incurable, a faith that is insurmountable, and a joy that is indescribable.

And that is the real miracle: He truly gives joy in the midst of sadness. It seems like such a contradiction. But take a moment and really think about it. God responds to the cry, the wail, of His people, and His response inherently involves His presence. What else but joy can be felt when His people are in His presence? At my lowest moments He was closest. He didn't have to say anything; I knew He was there with me, and that was enough.

I experienced this lesson in an overwhelming way just two days ago. It was January 8, the day before the one-year mark of Christen's passing. For most of you reading this, the day she passed, January 9, is 'the day', the truly difficult day when much is remembered and grieved afresh. For me, 'the day' was really the day before, January 8. You see, that was the day I had the early morning conversation with the doctor - the 'there's nothing more we can do' conversation. The day of tremendous battling. Prayer. Believing. Fighting with myself. Remaining composed so I could process what was happening and make appropriate decisions when asked. Weeping with those close. Exhorting and encouraging others. Reminding myself that this was all actually happening.

One year later, God chose to simply bear down on me all day, pouring more and more joy into my heart. I was ready to burst. "It's too much, Lord!" I cried. I didn't ask for it. In fact, I didn't realize the real significance of the day until it was over. He showed up with force from the moment my eyes opened. I read the Word, and it was satisfying. I had lunch with a friend, and it was edifying. I listened to some new music, and I praised Him for just being Him. He knew what that day meant, and He showed up, showed off, and confirmed that there is no stopping His unending, unyielding love for His child!

Beloved, this is as true for you as it has been for me. Take Him at His Word:

"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words. And he who searches hearts knows what is the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints according to the will of God. And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those whom he predestined he also called, and those whom he called he also justified, and those whom he justified he also glorified.

What then shall we say to these things? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son but gave him up for us all, how will he not also with him graciously give us all things? Who shall bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? Christ Jesus is the one who died - more than that, who was raised - who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, 'For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.'

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor 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."  ~Romans 8:26-39

Mission Accomplished

One year ago today, Christen, my wife of 6 1/2 years, passed away after a brief but intense battle with brain cancer. Writing that sentence took about 30 seconds, but the weight of it has reverberated through each of the last 365 days. I'll write a post tomorrow about the things I've learned in the past year. For this post, I want to focus on the impact of her life.

Christen's mission statement read: "To live a Bible-saturated, Christ-exalting life to the glory of God and for the joy of all people."

Christen's focus in life was always that God would receive glory from all people, that all would come to know Him and His love and His peace and His rest. That people would find their meaning in Him, and that they would be satisfied only and perfectly in Him. She wanted men to honor God with their worship and sacrifice and service and provision and leadership. She wanted women to glorify Him with their hearts and their minds, to find their identity in Him and not in worldly (read: empty) opinions, to be confident in Christ. She desired that the Church would take her place as the spotless Bride of Christ - but in so doing she would get her hands dirty with those less fortunate and in need. She wanted people to truly engage each other in relationship, knowing that it would be messy and fulfilling all at once.

She fostered an environment of hospitality in our home. To a person, and to this day, whenever someone steps foot in our 3-bedroom, typical Chicago style apartment, they say, 'This just feels like home.' Christen was a great designer, to be sure, but the feeling goes beyond the decor. The atmosphere of this place says, 'Welcome. Here, you will be loved.' She invited people into our home frequently, knowing that it would be messy with the activity of two imaginative children, noisy and at play and demanding attention. And people accepted the invitation for the opportunity to see a woman sold out for her Lord, opening her life to them and honestly answering their questions. She gave guidance and counsel in this home. She spoke the Word in this home. She exercised grace and love for the benefit of those who crossed our threshold.

Christen was one of the few people I have ever met that honestly put to death her fear of man. This was a work of grace from God that took a few years, but before she passed she spent nearly 2 years in absolute freedom from the cares and concerns of trying to please people for the sake of increasing her own reputation and pride. She had such a confidence in who God had created her to be that it didn't matter what this or that person thought. She knew she was dead-center in the will of God, and she was therefore unshakable. As her  husband, I was consistently amazed and inspired by her. And there is a lesson to be learned from this: these years of freedom were also marked by her most effective years of ministry and her greatest growth in influence. This is not a formula for gaining stature. It's a validation of the biblical principle that when you follow hard after Christ, He brings an increase. The best part? She had no idea. She just went after Him, and He gave weight to her words and actions.

I've written elsewhere about her as a mother and a wife, as did she in her own blogging, so I won't spend a lot of time on that here. It will suffice to say that she was a loving and gracious mother who adored her children while not spoiling them. She loved, laughed, played, taught, corrected, restored, repented for and to, prayed, sang, and generally encouraged Audrey and Hudson with the intentionality of one who knew she was training world-changing disciples. As a wife, she loved me well no matter what mood I was in or what the present circumstances of our life were. She respected me and built me up, strengthening me to a point where even the hard things of life became not only manageable but enjoyable.

Since her passing, not a week has gone by where I haven't received a fresh word regarding how Christen's life has impacted a person, a marriage, a mother, or a church. Some realized they were asleep at the wheel, woke up, and have turned their lives around. Others saw the peace she maintained in all circumstances, didn't understand why, read her blog, and had their hearts opened to Christ and His saving grace. Married couples renewed their commitments to one another, vowing not to take for granted any moment they had to share with one another. Mothers looked on the raising of their children with greater grace and fervor. Church leaders saw how one life, however brief, could impact so many and took their leadership to new levels in God. Bibles were opened that had been shut for years. Church seats were filled that had been vacant. Prayers were prayed that had previously been silent.

And we who remain, we issue forth praise from our mouths to a great God who honored us with the privilege of knowing and learning from this great woman!

This is Real

"This is real. This is happening. This is my life."

I spoke those words aloud to myself Saturday night as I was preparing to go to bed. The kids were with Grandpa and Grandma for the weekend, and I was in my bedroom fixing the sheets. All of a sudden, I was hit with a sensation that I have never felt before.

It was as though I was looking through someone else's eyes. I was looking into the life of some man going about his nightly routine. I had a flash of his mind and of all the things he had been thinking over the last week. It was all very ordinary stuff - going to work, taking care of his kids, cleaning the house, cooking dinner. There was really nothing exceptional about any of it. The whole scene was very strange, and it seemed like something was hanging in the air. There was a weight upon this man, only he didn't feel it. At least, he didn't seem to. He was just going about his routine. The man paused at this point and looked around. Familiarity crept in as I felt the quilted bedspread in need of a wash, the soft linen of the sheets, the floorboard that creaks right next to the dresser. It was then I realized I was in my own home, in my own bedroom, looking through my own eyes.

For that moment, I could not make sense of reality. I had seen through this man's eyes, and though he was me, I had no concept of what he was doing or why. Surely this was not how I lived, I thought. Do I really make up a bed only to sleep on one side of it? How long have I been going through these motions? Is this my life? It doesn't seem like it...

And then, more disturbing than these thoughts came the reality that, in fact yes, this is all real. I struggled to shake my doubts. Aloud, I said those words to myself.

"This is real. This is happening. This is my life."

At that point, I thought I would feel sad. Or angry. Perhaps frustrated. Even lonely. I felt none of these things. I felt like a chalkboard freshly erased, the remnant of what was written there still faintly visible, the dust not taken away but merely pushed around the slate, a cloudy image of something that once was clear.

I am coming to the understanding that it is easy to lose oneself in two extremes: routine and dreams. The former gives structure and makes sure things get done, but it lacks passion and zeal and an awareness of other happenings outside of the norm. Dreams certainly don't lack for passion or vision or excitement, but they deny that which is necessary to accomplish right now, and they ignore what is happening in the present. Combined, they miss reality, where one misses due to fixtures and the other due to fantasy.

I live in these two extremes. I require routine because there is so much to be done. Even with the help I receive, there is simply so much that demands my attention and energy and focus. I dream because dreaming lets me believe for the future, to hope in what is coming next. By themselves and in right balance, these two extremes are lovely dance partners. But without the music of reality playing them along the floor, they're just two lunatics locked in a deluded embrace.

Here is my reality: My name is Joe Ringle. I am 29 years old. I have two children, Audrey and Hudson. My wife, Christen, passed away 4 months ago. Life is difficult for us right now. But we serve a God whose goodness knows no end. He has rescued my family from certain, eternal death and given us, through Jesus, true and lasting life with Him, even if it isn't with each other here and now.

I will live in light of grace and not fetter myself to foolish delusions or denials of the truth.

A Beautiful Inconvenience

There are two lies that have been popularized in our culture regarding marriage. The first is that marriage is simply about how two people feel about each other. They're 'in love', so they get married - of course! Just like all the fairy tales, the princess stories, the hero saving the damsel, the Richard Gere getting the Julia Roberts, the 'you had me at hello'. Love is something you fall into, and marriage is where you land.

The second is that there's always an out - just get divorced.

A quick note on the above point: There is acceptable, biblical precedent for divorce and remarriage. I am not condemning all divorce as ungodly. However, 'I just don't love him/her anymore' isn't one of the precedents. Which brings me to why I'm writing this at all.

Here's a truth that needs to be accepted in order to begin to overcome the two lies mentioned above:

Marriage is inconvenient.


Okay, I actually heard your sharp intake of breath just now. Calm down, and I'll explain. Think about it for a moment - you're a sinner and so is your spouse (or soon-to-be spouse). Unlike in math, two negatives in this case don't make a positive. In fact, each partner's sin is going to be thrown into sharp relief when exposed by the other. Nothing reveals our innate selfishness more than getting married - until you have children (which is a completely separate post). Prior to marriage, you were concerned with you, ultimately. With a spouse you are concerned with 'we'. Consequently, you must give things up daily for the sake of the other. Hot water in the shower, time in the bathroom, sheets on the bed, space on the couch, your preferences, your pride. And that's hard and difficult and uncomfortable and frustrating. Why can't you just 'win'? Here's the honest truth: marriage doesn't 'fix' anything - it unhinges everything, puts the pieces on the floor like so much IKEA ware, and asks you and your spouse to put it all back together again.

And it is a uniquely beautiful expression of God's grace.

This post was sparked by a video I saw via Desiring God, found here. It tells the story of a woman who, in spite of her husband's disability, has chosen to marry him and live a life of love and inconvenience. It is a remarkable story, and it is the kind of story we should use to inform our daughters and sons rather than what we see in culture.

This will not be easy for me to say, but I'm freewriting at this point, and so I hope you will bear with the rawness of it.

Christen dealt with me graciously for 6 1/2 years. I freely confess that I'm not the easiest person to live with. I read Gary Chapman's Five Love Languages, and I had 2 primary languages and a third just behind them. In other words, I'm high maintenance. I'm needy. All the time. And Christen had me figured out. I've never felt more trusted, respected, and loved than when I was with her. Even when she started getting sick, she would say how sorry she was that she couldn't take care of me the way she wanted to. And I thought, 'No, it's my turn now.'

We only really had two days to process what was happening from the MRI to the biopsy. For the sake of being able to make sound decisions in the midst of varied advice from friends, family, and doctors, we focused on taking each step one at a time. Therefore, we weren't thinking too far beyond just what was next. Still, we did talk. She was scared but determined. We talked about the reality that when the doctors said 'aggressive treatment', they meant chemotherapy. Intense chemotherapy. That meant her whimsical, ever-changing hair was going to fall out. And she said, 'No wigs.' She said she'd be bald and strong and creative with scarves (as ever). We discussed that her going through this would stand as a testimony to the sustaining power of God.

In this moment, as we were facing the potential of a brutal battle with a particularly vicious form of brain cancer, I learned the most valuable and important lesson I'll ever learn about marriage:

Christen was never more beautiful than when she was lying in her hospital bed, unshowered, gown on, electrodes glued to her head, unreservedly and unashamedly declaring the glory and grace of God in our lives.

Yes, marriage is an inconvenience, but oh! how beautiful an inconvenience it is.

The Spring Line

The week after Christen passed away, a few people asked about when I was planning on going through her clothes and packing them up/giving them away. When my grandmother passed away several years ago, my grandfather went through her things within the first few days. His logic: If I don't do it now, I'm never going to do it. That's reasonable.

I, however, chose to wait. This was in part because I couldn't bring myself to do it right then. The previous two weeks had been a whirlwind of shock, pain, grief, processing, details, emotional ups and (mostly) downs, family, travel, and on and on. I just could not bring myself to go through Christen's clothing after all of that. Besides, a lot of her clothes were in our storage closet because she was wise to store our Spring/Summer wardrobe somewhere other than in our limited closet space (it is Chicago, after all). I was not going to try to bring all that up in the middle of January only to effectively take it all back down again, then bring it up for me and the kids again in Spring. I figured, when it's time to bring out the Spring clothes, I'll go through her stuff then.

That day was today.

To understand this moment, you have to understand who Christen was when it came to fashion. While I am no great fashion-monger myself, I did learn a few things in being her husband. Namely: Her style was her own. This is something that I always loved about her. She did not mimic other people. She did not stalk celebrity styles to do what 'they' were doing (these principles also applied to her hair). She found a way to be ahead of the curve without really paying attention to magazines, tabloids, fashion gurus, and the like. We don't have cable, so even shows like 'What Not to Wear' (which she loved) were unavailable. Consequently, she made up her own style. Everything from her color combinations to layers to textures to accessories were uniquely Christen. I can't begin to tell you how many times I heard women in the church comment, 'I love what you're wearing, but I could never pull it off,' to Christen. As her husband - beaming! I mean, come on guys, admit it: Being married to an 'it' girl is pretty sweet. After all, she said 'yes' to me - amazing!

I also loved her approach to shopping. She would go to a store with something very specific in mind. I would think, 'Oh, she's seen that in a catalog somewhere,' or some such nonsense. After looking around for awhile, she would very often just be done and ready to leave. Sure, she'd have picked up a couple of items, walked around with them, perhaps even tried them on. In the end, if it wasn't exactly what she'd pictured in her mind, it would go back on the rack. She did this all the time. I would ask her about it. Her response: 'I saw it in my head, and I figure it has to be out there somewhere. So I'll look until I find it.' Very often she would find it - a year later when the fashion world had caught up to my wife's brain.

I wouldn't say that fashion was something Christen spent a lot of time thinking about (after all, her word for all the material stuff of this life was kindling); she did, however, have exceptional taste, class, style, and timing. She managed to do something that most women scoff at - she made modesty trendy.

This brings us to this afternoon. I brought up the bins from storage, pulled out my clothes as well as the kids', and then got to the task of emptying out all of her clothes. The living room was covered by the time I was finished emptying all the bins, under-the-bed storage, and the closet.

I went through each item because I wanted to remember. At some items I laughed ('how did she ever make that work?'). At others I smiled ('she wore that all the time'). A few I simply broke down and wept uncontrollably ('I remember the last time she wore this' or 'she wore this on our anniversary').

At one point I found a sweatshirt that Christen used to wear around the house all the time. Gray and white striped, zip-up hoodie made of waffley cotton material. It had been tossed behind something in the closet, so it hadn't been washed since the last time she'd worn it. It still smelled like her. And I lost it. Hudson was in the room for that one. He came over, and at first he laughed because he thought I was playing some sort of game. In fact, he asked if I was playing. I told him I was not, and that I missed Mommy very much. He just stared at me with such compassion on his face, he looked 23 instead of 3. Then he hugged me. I told him I loved him, and he said he loved me too. I told him I loved Mama, and he told me she loved me too. It was the most excruciating and sweetest moment of the entire day.

I am emotionally exhausted as I type this. This day has been circled on my calendar, so to speak, since Christen's passing. In going through this process, I knew part of it would be remembering her as she was when she wore this outfit, that dress, those skirts, and so on. It would mean dealing with the fact that she would never fill those clothes again. It would mean touching the cloth that used to touch her skin, knowing that neither it nor I would ever do so again. The clothes by themselves are nothing. But clothes have memories, and I heard each one of them today.

I wish I could type something inspiring at this point in the post. I praise God that His mercies are new in the morning because I'm ready to go to bed and wake up to that. The truth is that today was one of the most emotionally taxing days I have had since her funeral. The point of today was not to see how far I've come in my grieving. The point of today was not to gauge my emotional readiness for this or that. The point of today was to get through today. To do this next hard thing. To embrace what was and accept, in increasing measure, that it isn't anymore. To let my kids know that it's okay for them to still miss Mommy. To weep openly. To say goodbye, again.

The Gift of Suffering: The Message

I had the opportunity to speak to the young adult ministry at my church recently, and from the moment I was asked to speak, I felt very strongly to speak on suffering. This is the talk I gave that night. It's a bit long (an hour), and I haven't mastered the art of editing in YouTube just yet, but I wanted to present it for your consideration nonetheless. In the end, my hope is that you will see suffering the way God intends and the Bible describes: as a gift.

Taking Joy in My Kids

I had a realization this week: When I come home, my kids want to spend time with me before doing anything else. Elementary, right? For me, though, it was another one of those 'transition' moments.

You see, Christen usually timed dinner so that it was basically ready when I came in the door. I never asked her to do that; she just did. It worked with the kids' daily routine, and it gave her a break from the kids while preparing dinner before my arrival home. She liked to take that time to get dinner ready and have the table set for when I got home.

I (and the army of amazing caretakers that have been helping our family) have essentially kept that routine. Here's the difference: the kids haven't been with one of their parents all day. When I get home, it's time to be with Daddy. I've been trying to have that time with them over dinner, usually at the table. Great idea...under normal circumstances.

Unfortunately, I am still learning just how 'not normal' our circumstances are now. My kids don't want to sit at the table and eat dinner shortly after I get home. Even if they are hungry, what they really want to do is run, play, wrestle, show me art projects, and anything else that comes into their little minds that they can bring me into before sitting down to eat.

After fighting 'The Dinner War' for the last several weeks, I'm going to give this a shot. It'll mean eating a little later than usual. It may even mean starting bedtime slightly later than before (we'll see about that). Hopefully, it will also mean more quality time with my kids - including at the dinner table.

I'll keep you posted...

Christen on Holiness and Grace

From 'The Heart of the Matter'

Outer purification is of no use without the inner disposition to live rightly before God.


From 'The Great Disconnect'
Let my works demonstrate the grace extended to me, not qualify the grace freely given to me.

The above quotes are from Christen's blog. In preparation for going on Moody Radio, I spent some time rereading (again...) several of Christen's posts. I was once more amazed with her ability to communicate so much with so few words. I've joked about certain authors' sentences weighing 800 pounds (John Piper, A.W. Tozer). Christen falls into that category as well.

I was particularly struck by these two quotes because they communicate a unified message despite being written in two different posts. Consider the first. It is dealing with personal holiness. So often, when we think of personal holiness, we think of 'do's' and 'don'ts', lists of rules, a veritable compendium of thou-shalt-this-but-most-certainly-thou-shalt-not-that.

However, what is suggested in Christen's writing - and I would add the Bible on the whole - is something very different from our traditional ideas. Rather than a list, which is legalism at its finest, the key to personal holiness is our hearts' desire to glorify God. The 'inner disposition' stems from holding Christ as our ultimate treasure. When we hold Him so, we obey what is written in the Bible not because we have to but because we get to. We count it a privilege to take instruction from the Lord, and we endeavor to put into practice that which He says is best. Will we arrive at actual, practical holiness in this life? No (sorry to all the Finney lovers out there). But by God's grace through the power of His Holy Spirit, we will be made more and more like Him (called sanctification) until such a time as He returns or calls us home and we are made perfect in His presence (called glorification).

And here we run right into the second quote. Our works, the 'good works He has prepared in advance', are not what make us right before God. That was done for us when Jesus lived perfectly, died sacrificially, rose powerfully, and imputed His righteousness to us graciously. This grace was extended to us in His sovereignty by His mercy and love. We did not earn it through our works. We are not saved by works; rather, we are saved to works. Our works, therefore, shine forth that grace to His glory and for our joy.

...........................................................................................................................................................

I don't know if you've figured it out yet, but I wrote this post more for me than for anyone else. Usually, when I write, the first question I ask myself is, 'Will this be beneficial for those who read it?' Tonight, I simply wanted to write about the kind of thinker Christen was, how she was able to capture so much truth with so few words, how deeply saturated in her satisfaction in Christ she was that she could put one thought out there and it would make me think many thoughts after it. I've missed her a lot these last couple of weeks, and I am continually proud to have been her husband, to have been part of her life and part of what influenced her to think deeply and then write about her thoughts. I read these lines of hers, and I laugh - out loud - because of their profundity and insight into the great and gracious God we serve.

Bumping Up the Priorities

Back in October 2011, Christen and I had the opportunity to sit on a panel with two other married couples at an event held by our church's newly launched marriage ministry. During the Q&A session, I was able to address the issue of priorities. Speaking as someone who has mixed his up a time or two, I was glad to convey what I had learned. As a married man with children, I stated, my priorities are and must only be as follows:

1) Christian
2) Husband
3) Father
4) Everything else

In other words, my relationship with Christ comes first, my relationship with my wife next, my relationship with my children third, and then all other relationships after that (extended family, friends, co-workers, etc). Also, for those aspiring to vocational ministry, being a Christian and being a minister are not synonymous. Ministry falls under priority 4. I know from experience on that one, so trust me.

I have a challenge now, though. When Christen passed away, a gap opened up in the priority list. It has looked like this:

1) Christian
2)
3) Father
4) Everything else

I didn't know what to do with the gap. Do I swallow it with priority 1? Do I leave it blank, thereby either trying to keep Christen in that slot or unwisely trying to fill it with someone or something else? Do I just ignore it and hope it goes away?


In the end, the purpose of the list is to keep what's most important in the right order. Therefore, the current list should look like this:

1) Christian
2) Father
3) Everything else

I am not advocating here that my kids take Christen's place or that I am now married to my kids. If I am thinking the former, I place an unfair and, honestly, strange expectation on my kids to be my best friend. If I am thinking the latter, when they eventually leave the house, it will feel like a divorce rather than the natural progression of life. In either case, they are not meant to fill those roles.

What I am proposing is that they have bumped up the priority list. As of now, after my relationship with Jesus,  my most important relationships are with my kids. Perhaps this seems a natural or common sense conclusion, but I must admit I came to it after a lot of thought and wrestling. I didn't want to view them as my 'new marriage'. I am their daddy and their my wee ones, and that needs to remain as is (though they won't be wee ones for much longer!).

What does change is the time, effort, thought, and energy I put into my respective relationships with each child. Some of the relational resources I devoted to Christen will go to my relationship with Jesus, but other resources will go to the kids. This prevents turning my kids into pasty, blonde idols while still allowing for our relationships to flourish in a wholly new way.

Rounding the Next Corner

If there is one thing I am learning/have learned during this grief process, it is that God will help me go through it. But, He is faithful to make sure I go through it - not around it, over it, bypassing it, skipping it, or anything of the sort.

Last week I had the privilege of speaking to the young adults ministry at my church. It was a great night of fellowship, worship, and the Word. I spoke on 'the gift of suffering', pulling from several passages in the New Testament which culminate in Philippians 1:29 ('for it has been granted to you...to suffer'). As an illustration to how God has been near to me during this time of personal suffering, I explained the sense I have had when the Lord pulls back what Christen referred to as 'the crisis covering' - that extra grace He gives to help us through the worst of the worst of times. Essentially, when that covering has been pulled back a bit, the first thing I see is Jesus staring me in the face, saying, "I'm right here, now let's go face this thing," and then I see the next piece of the process through which I am to work.

The covering has been pulled back again, and the way Jesus manifested Himself was through a couple of well-loved and trusted individuals in my life pointing to the reality that I now must face more fully. These two brothers helped me to see a truth I had been avoiding - things really are different now.

From the time of Christen's passing, I have done my best to reestablish our family routines to the best of my ability. I am back at work, the kids are being taken care of at home by a cache of loving and selfless volunteers, we are doing Friday pizza/movie night, Saturday Family Breakfast at Starbucks, church on Sunday and Prayer Meeting on Tuesday. All the things we used to do. Only now, without Christen.

And therein lies the issue. I have attempted to recreate our family minus one essential element, and I have found that without that element all the traditions and rituals ring out slightly off-pitch. The fact, and the reality I have to face, is that things - really everything - are different. Totally. Irrefutably. Irreversibly. Different.

There is a corner up ahead that I am going to have to round if my family is ever going to properly move through our grief. It is the kind of corner that one does not circle back to once the turn has been made. It's the corner that says, "She's really gone; she isn't coming back. You must continue, and you must bear this well for your own sake, for your children, and for those who will come after you." Thankfully, as I hear the Lord say this to me, He follows it up with, "And I'll be with you every step of the way. Now let's get going."

The Problem with Pronouns

When Christen and I were married, we committed to being fully vested in one another. We did as the Bible says, and left our father and mother and cleaved to each other. We truly became one flesh - best friends and lovers together.

I am a verbal processor, and as such words are very important to me. Consequently, after marrying Christen I began to realize just how often I referred to myself in the first person singular - I, me, my, mine. For most of you, this would mean absolutely nothing. When you're on your own or recounting something you did individually, you naturally use 'I' and think nothing of it. I sometimes wish I processed that way!

For me, however, speaking in such a way revealed a self-centered inclination in my heart. When I spoke about 'me', I was only thinking about ME. As a small example of this, I once filled out an offering envelope at church and put only my name on it. Christen, seeing this, said, "Hey, I'm part of that, too!" Again, this may seem silly to some, but it was telling to me.

Thus, I learned to speak in first person plural - we, us, our, ours - about nearly everything. Such a small change impacted my thinking and the direction of my heart in profound ways. Every time I said 'we', I thought of Christen, that she and I were 'in on this together'. It also put her in front of anyone to whom I spoke. It was a constant reminder to me and others that I was a one-woman man, and that one woman impacted everything in my life (and I hers). It was now our home, our car, our kids, our money, our decision, our life. And I loved every second of it.

I now find myself in the strange position of undoing that line of thinking. Yes, in one very real sense, it is still our home, our kids, etc. In another equally real sense, it is mine. I still speak in first person plural most of the time without thinking of it. I catch myself at it, and it now serves as an opposite reminder - that in fact it isn't 'us' anymore in the tangible, physical reality of 'us'. The 'us' is part of time past and not time present. To many, this perhaps would seem a trifle compared to the immensity of other issues I am facing. And they would be right. And yet, for me, the chasm between 'us' and 'me' is immeasurably wide.

Christen's Funeral Message

As many of you know, some because you were there and others because you heard or have read the early posts of this blog, I preached Christen's funeral. While I do not feel obligated to get into the details as to why I chose to do that, nonetheless I believe it is beneficial to do so. After this brief explanation, please take a moment to watch and listen to the message God helped me to deliver at Christen's Going Home Celebration (for that was what is was - this was no ordinary 'funeral service').

*The audio for the message was recorded from the main sound board, so it sounds great. However, since there was not a 'video person' at the service, the video was captured by a few iPhones and an iPad and spliced together for the sake of some sort of visual. Thus, have grace for the imperfections in the video and pay closer attention to the audio.*

To understand the decision, you must first understand the context from which the decision was made. Since 2009, the Lord has been revealing and refining my call to ministry, the overarching theme being that He has called, confirmed, and equipped me to preach, teach, and write. With that in mind, and considering the fact that Christen and I were in perpetual conversation with one another, this was a frequent topic discussed in our home. What was the Lord doing in us? How would this call play out? What would Christen's role in all of it look like? Are we planting a church or building a ministry within our current church? Perhaps the latter first and then the former? We had no concrete answers to these questions, and thus we remained rooted where we were, doing what the Lord put before us while we continued to aggressively pursue His will for our life. Many opportunities came up, which we took before the Lord. He always said, "No, that's not it," because He's faithful to reveal His will to those who ask, seek, and knock like the persistent widow.

I tell you all of this so that you can begin to understand - we were operating under the belief that I would eventually be regularly preaching and teaching somewhere, whether our current church or one that the Lord led us to start. It was in this context that we had the conversation about my preaching her funeral.

It came about because of a few messages we had heard by Pastor Mark Driscoll from Mars Hill Church in Seattle, WA. I've racked my brain, but I can't think of exactly which message it was we were listening to when we talked about it. However, Pastor Mark talks about this relatively frequently, especially when he's preaching on men in ministry or preaching or marriage, so if you want to do some digging, you won't have to look too far. Start here and see what you find. As an extra note to this, I must say that the teaching of Pastor Mark on marriage and family caused a revival in our home during the final two years of Christen's life. Specific messages of his altered how I prioritized my time, how Christen viewed being a stay-at-home-mom, how we viewed our marriage in light of the ministry, and even our sex life. Truly, our home dynamic underwent a dramatic and positive change. So, should Pastor Mark ever come across this post, I would say to him: Thank you.

It was in one of his messages where he stated that he prays often, if not every day, that God would allow him to outlive his wife, the appropriately named Grace, so that he can take care of her until such a time as the Lord takes her to be with Him. He wants to preach her funeral and lead her in that as well. Christen and I were stunned. We loved it. We agreed at that moment that I would preach her funeral, that I would be the person to shepherd those closest to us in that moment and to speak forth the gospel and the glory of God, the very things for which she and I stood most stridently.

When we had this conversation and came to this agreement, we did not realize it would come to fruition so soon. Remember, we were thinking in the context of 'down the road' where I was already an established preacher. We didn't know that the first sermon I would ever preach would in fact be her funeral. And yet this was what lay before me upon her passing. I told my pastor what I intended to do, and he graciously offered no resistance, only support and encouragement. By the grace of God, on January 13, 2012, four days after Christen's passing, I stood up and delivered the following message. I pray it will be a blessing to you, and please share it with others as you find it beneficial.

February 11, 2012

The following article is an excerpt from my journal. I began writing in it not only as a way to begin processing my grief but also as a means of emptying my mind of all the thoughts that were swirling around. I desire that people know what faith-filled grief can look like for someone in the very early stages and how it progresses over time.


The medical bills have started to come in, and it's a fresh reminder of all that went on during Christen's final few days. One was a 12-page packet detailing her stay in the ICU post-biopsy. I had to pause at one entry - EEG Eval Cerebral Death, it read. I flashed back to those final hours. I had/have tried to soak up as much of her as I could/can, and yet after just over a month (only), I am losing track of her voice, her expressions and mannerisms, the way she smelled and tasted and felt. I sat on the bed fighting to remember - REMEMBER - but found I was losing the battle. I'm disgusted with myself and my memory. I want to fight for every moment to come back, for my memories to be triggered...


(later that day)


I have just spent several minutes simply recalling details of that time in the hospital. I'm realizing just how much pain is still there for me. With all the other things that have been going on, I've been able to compartmentalize my actual grief away from my presentable or public grief. This must stop if I am to successfully and successively move through my grief process. As hard as today has been, this is a good realization to come to.


(end of journal excerpt, start of other thoughts)


As stated in the journal excerpt above, I had not been going to the places in my mind where grief might dwell for well over a week. My brain, frankly, didn't want to get into it. I've compartmentalized all of that, and I like to keep it on a high shelf rather than one that is more accessible. Well, I got in there on Saturday, and it was hard but beautiful all the same. I got to really remember her final moments of full consciousness, for which - praise God! - I was able to be present.


I remember two moments that stand out from the minutes we had together prior to her going in for the biopsy. First, she gave me a longer kiss than I expected just moments before being wheeled into the O.R. You see, I had prayed for her, kissed her, and told her I loved her, but then we stayed there for a few minutes longer. When they came at last to take her in, she kissed me again, longer, and we expressed our love one more time. It was just a moment, not more than half a second I'd guess, but it was she who stayed in it longer, communicating through her kiss, "I don't want to go just yet; I like it right here."


Second, when she was part-way between the me and the O.R. doors, she turned her head back and gave me that famous smile of hers. Those who know her know to what I am referring. For those who don't, I will attempt to describe it. Christen's smile was the kind that you see from across a large room. Her mouth was big, like she-could-put-her-fist-in-her-mouth big. Her teeth were perfectly straight and luminously white. Her lips were full, especially her bottom lip which appeared to be perpetually pouting (though she, herself, rarely did). The aesthetics of her smile were flawless.


Yet it was the effect of her smile that makes it so memorable. Wherever you were and whatever you were going through, when she smiled at you, it was like returning home after months of being away. Love, joy, and peace were communicated through this simple upward parting, and it actually produced those same feelings in you, even though you knew you hadn't been feeling them seconds prior. You felt comfortable, welcomed, understood, cared for, accepted, and loved. You realized that things were not, perhaps, as bad as they seemed, and even if they were it would work out by the grace of God. "This too shall pass," would come into your mind for the first time.


As her husband, when she smiled, when she really smiled, it would feel as though all the cares, concerns, anxieties, frustrations, and stresses of the day/week/month/year could wait for a minute. I could just stop...stare...be amazed at how shockingly beautiful my wife was...and relax. Her smile reminded me of my priorities, and all those other things just didn't make the list when set next to that. It was this smile that I received on that day. That's the final moment I truly shared with my wife. It has been scorched into my heart and mind. It is brutally difficult and intensely sweet.

First Love

Revelation 2:4-5
But I have this against you, that you have abandoned the love you had at first. Remember therefore from where you have fallen; repent, and do the works you did at first. If not, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place, unless you repent.


Luke 14:25-27
Now great crowds accompanied him, and he turned and said to them, "If anyone comes to me and does not hate his own father and mother and wife and children and brothers and sisters, yes, and even his own life, he cannot be my disciple. Whoever does not bear his own cross and come after me cannot be my disciple."

Do you really love God more than anyone else?

I have had to ask myself that question a lot of late. I have sometimes had it pop up out of nowhere, a prompting from the Lord to examine myself perhaps. Other times I have had to deliberately ask it, like David opening himself up to the examination of the Lord ('search my heart, O God'). Either way, I can now never simply answer it out of hand. I must truly look in my heart, expose myself to the Lord, and reveal with whom my love dwells.

We have all been there, facing this question. A preacher or pastor will rhetorically ask the question, and the assumed answer is: Yes! Emphatically, we feel in our hearts that this is the answer. But what if we treat the question like a real question. Like a question that requires an deep answer. Not a simple answer, but one that we have thought through and meditated on, prayed over and asked God for help. We always talk about 'putting God first' and that He takes 'top priority', but is that practically, actually true?

My hope is that no one has to work out this question in the same way that I'm having to work it out. Nonetheless, I would be naive if I didn't believe some people will have to answer it in the midst of the most challenging of circumstances. My recommendation? Work this out now, know that you know where your priorities are, and when crisis strikes, as it will from time to time, you will be able to face it with truth rather than the hurricane of emotion that inevitably follows. Find verses that you cling to, the statements and promises from the Word that give you the clearest indication of who God is and who are you in Him. These are the truths that will sustain you in the hardest of times.

For me, the following have helped, and I offer them to you not as a one-size-fits-all solution but rather as an example of how one man has found solace through the Word:

2 Corinthians 5:21
For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.

Psalm 16
Dwelling in joy

Psalm 18
The reaction of the Lord to an emergency need of one of His children

Psalm 23
He brings peace when one could feel surrounded by enemies

Philippians 2:1-11
The humility of Christ

Colossians 1:15-23
The preeminence of and reconciliation to Christ

This has been my constant refuge in this time. Certainly, I have had crisis moments. In those moments, however, I have asked and re-asked, "Do I love God more than anything or anyone else?" Yet I look to the Scriptures, and I see who God is, and I experience His nearness, and I realize that only He could provide such peace. And so I say, "Yes, Lord, I do love You more than anyone else."

On Grieving and the Sovereignty of God Part 2

In part 1 of this entry, I concluded that God's work in me through this time of grief is part of His sanctifying work in my life. I want to continue this discussion and take it from personal for me to applicable for others. Specifically, it must be understood that God can and should be trusted during the hardest of times solely because of who He is: good, loving, compassionate, gracious, merciful, just, holy, righteous, and sovereign. The emphasis here is on God's goodness and sovereignty in the midst of seemingly 'bad' and 'confusing' situations.

Dear reader, God does not lose control of situations, yours or mine. He is not caught off guard. Too often those who profess to know and love God struggle with this fact. If He is sovereign, by definition He is not waiting on us to do something before He has a plan. He has a plan. Let me emphasize: He has a plan. Not many plans. Not items at a buffet from which we pick and choose, and then He says, "Oh ok, I see you've selected that. I guess now I have to..." This thinking is a few short steps to full-on Open Theism - there is a God, but He's effectively as dependent on us as we are on Him.
When faced with grief or suffering or hard circumstances, we begin to ask a lot of questions. We wonder what has happened or why or who did what to deserve this (see John 9). I think of Job. After going through tremendous suffering and persecution, he attempts to answer some of his friends with his own justifications and rationalizations of why his life has turned out the way it did (ch.29-31). The problem is, in reality, Job did not know what he was talking about, and God let him know this in no uncertain terms (ch.38-41).
God's goodness in the midst of His sovereignty demands that we see Him differently, that we focus more on His character than on our immediate situation. In A Grief Observed, C.S. Lewis writes the following (p.69):


When I lay these questions before God I get no answer. But a rather special sort of 'No Answer.' It is not the locked door. It is more like a silent, certainly not uncompassionate, gaze. As though He shook His head not in refusal but waiving the question. Like, 'Peace, child; you don't understand.'
Can a mortal ask questions which God finds unanswerable? Quite easily, I should think. All nonsense questions are unanswerable. How many hours are there in a mile? Is yellow square or round? Probably half the questions we ask - half our great theological and metaphysical problems - are like that.


Rather than questioning God's intentions, petition Him to reveal His character in the situation. "Lord, help me see your goodness in this." "Father, show me Your love through my trials." "Holy Spirit, be my Comforter." This honors Him and benefits you as you 'meet trials of various kinds.' Then, request that He use what you have learned about Him to encourage not only yourself but also the people with whom you interact. You will be blessed, others will likewise be blessed (thus doubling your own blessing), and God the Father in Christ through the Holy Spirit will receive all the glory.

On Grieving and the Sovereignty of God Part 1

Christen wrote this passage in a journal of hers during her own period of grief after our miscarriage. She writes:


My experience with grieving is far from extensive, and I know many others have been through far worse loss than I. However, I do believe that most people miss a rich lesson and intimate moments with our Lord. I once read that a crisis doesn't make you or break you, it simply reveals you. I disagree to an extent. Based on my understanding, to merely get through the grief and move on is to lose a powerful opportunity to be molded, loved, restored, and strengthened. In the moment of a shattered dream, you have a choice to say, "The Lord will use this for someone in the future," or, " [I] trust that He will us it right now for [my] life."


She and I had the opportunity to talk much about how she was processing her own grieving during that time. You see, her grief was tangible. She felt the attachment. This would have been our 3rd child, and so she knew all the feelings she was feeling, what they meant, and what that meant for the baby. The above journal entry came about as we spoke about her feelings with respect to the Lord's nearness. For her, He was so near that it was practically overwhelming for her. Comforting, to be sure, but overwhelming all the same.
We spoke frequently during this time about the depth her relationship with Christ was going because of the suffering she was enduring. She experienced His peace and strength in an entirely new way. She would often say that she would never have known how deep the Lord's peace could be if she had not gone through that season.
When I think about this and read her words, I realize that God is doing something very similar in me at this time. People have said, over and over, they are amazed by 'my' strength. I can only say that it is not mine. Paul writes that it is in our weakness that God's strength is most manifest (2 Co.12:9-10). Note that this is not referring to areas of one's life that could use improvement (weaknesses), as though other areas are doing fine (strengths). It is referring to a state of being. We are weak people, broken vessels. And it is when we recognize this truth and humbly come to Christ that we see His strength enabling us (Phil.4:13).
What I see the Lord working in me is peace and a type of comfort, yet also discontentment. Peace over this situation, comfort in the sense of knowing His purposes are good, discontentment with settling in and getting comfortable. I pray to never arrive at 'comfortable'. I want a holy discomfort with the state of myself, my church, my city. Because I want to see it all transformed by Jesus. Transformation is destructive and terribly beautiful. Thus, God's work in me is not 'only beginning' nor is it 'almost finished.' It is ongoing. This is sanctification. Glory to glory and strength to strength.

January 20, 2012 (Part 2)

I have sometimes wondered whether my marriage, and more specifically Christen, has/had become an idol for me. I sought her joy and happiness, desired her favor and love, lived for her approval, and found union with her most pleasing. I also may be overthinking, something she checked for me, and this may simply be part of my grief. I talked with God today, and the thrust was not "Give her back" so much as "Why did You take her now and not 20 years from now?" It's a selfish line of thought, focused primarily on my interests and secondarily on the kids', but it was what welled up from inside after reading through her journals of our pre-engagement and engagement time...
It was 1 week ago that I preached her funeral (2 weeks presently). Today has been the hardest day since leaving the hospital. I'm unsure of so much right now. I don't want to go anywhere or see anyone, but I also just want to get out and be with people. One part wants to just sit and ruminate on everything the she was and we were; the other part wants to shut all that down and do other things so as to not think about her. When I have silence, I think of her. That makes me simultaneously want more silence and noise.

January 20, 2012 (Part 1)

It's a really snowy day in Chicago. I've been with the kids by myself all morning for what might be the first time ever. And it didn't go well. The biggest problem is that I can't seem to muster up the energy to play and laugh and have fun. Those things have become foreign to me somehow. I laughed and played with Christen all the time. I just haven't transferred that to the kids. Instead, I'm setting expectations and making demands and generally lacking all the grace Christen continually displayed.
Christen always handled these times far better. She had a way of redirecting the kids without always having to be stern. She had her moments of frustration and lost temper, certainly. But she was mostly so even with them. I feel like some sort of roller coaster wrecking ball, correcting first and teaching later. It's a rough dynamic right now.
Add to this my growing sense of loss. I've lost my best friend, my lover, my conversation partner, my helper, my ministry cooperator. She filled in my empty spaces, which are many, and now that's all I see. I had a dream about her last night... But I woke up. And it wasn't real, and nothing compares to reality. [C.S] Lewis talks about this truth in A Grief Observed, the truth that my recollections of Christen are invariably tampered with by my own self. I put my own twists on what was her in reality, twists that can only be corrected by the real Christen (and thus, can never be corrected anymore). I see this already happening, and it increases my sadness...

January 19, 2012

Christen's last words, at least the last words I was present for, were "I love you", directed at me after we'd kissed prior to her entering the O.R. I realize that she was awake and responsive at some point after the biopsy, enough so to say her name and correct someone for saying it incorrectly. I saw none of this, and my bet is that, were we able to ask her, she would not recollect those moments either. Therefore, the last words she consciously spoke were of love for me. This both warms and saddens my heart.
Audrey cried tonight for the first time in front of me specifically because of losing Mommy. She's been putting on a good face and trying to support me (she's 5!), but she finally let it out. We talked about what we miss, what she's doing, and hoped for Jesus to come back tomorrow.

January 17, 2012

I don't sleep well right now. I'm trying to run my brain into the ground before my head touches the pillow. Trouble is, that's always after midnight, Hudson crawls in sometime shortly after that, and both kids want to be up by 7:30am at the latest. I'm right now fighting my cold and Hudson's, Audrey having just come through it. I'm also trying to make sure my kids will be taken care of 12 hours/day, Monday-Friday, until I can figure out a way to effectively work from home (all while providing for my family and paying down medical costs). I have tons of available help, so I'm not complaining. I just loved having Christen doing those things and filling those roles. At the end of the day, even as I fill all the "needs", my kids are motherless, and I've lost "my lover and my friend" (SoS 5:16).
That being said, I preached Christen's funeral. Spoke on Rom.5:1-5... I'm planning to post it to YouTube and email the story and link to Mark Driscoll (whose messages on marriage most powerfully impacted the final two years Christen and I had together and ultimately led to our conversation of my prayer to outlive her and preach her funeral...just didn't realize it'd be so soon and also my first sermon). I want to see this get big. Why? Because Christen was the most amazing person I've ever known, and I'd like to introduce both her and Jesus to as many people as I can. I'll speak anywhere, publish anything, so that the gospel and the glory of God will impact people. These were Christen's themes, and they're what we talked about most. God's glory being magnified through this is what I'm after. I can think of no better way to honor Him, her, or provide for my family. I'm not eager to grieve, but I am eager to see God work in and through this. And me.