Broken and Hurting Does Not Equal Contagious

I walked into juvenile court. My heart heavy, yet full of hope. Young boys shackled together by chains around their wrist and ankles. All of them dressed in matching jumpsuits, their faces full of fear and hurt. The only differentiating trait was their hair color and cut. They reminded me of the lost boys in the movie Peter Pan. Drawn by the lights and carnival atmosphere, they have been sucked into the vortex of sin.  My heart broke into pieces.  Inside I was crying out to God to guard their young minds and hearts. Let them see Jesus. The one who will never leave them or forsake them. Let them experience the full love of Christ. Children being parented by the State of Texas. I could only imagine the trauma their undeveloped brains had witnessed. The adult lives they had been exposed to instead of protected from. 

The devil would like nothing better than to steal the hearts and minds of our impressionable children but God said “children are a gift from God; they are a reward from him.” Psalms 127:3. Are these children part of a generational curse? “Yet he does not leave the guilty unpunished; he punishes the children and their children for the sins of the parents to the 3rd and 4th generation.” Exodus 34:6. That stings. I know I have generational curses that have been passed down through my family. Sin may cause you little pain now but it could be detrimental in the lives of your children and grandchildren later. 

Only Christ can break the curse and bondage within my life, the lives of my children and grandchildren. The precious lives of those young boys. Your life. He tears down the strongholds in our life when we surrender to Him. He breaks the generational curses over your family. He died on the cross for our bondage. He died on the cross for our broken. He died on the cross knowing we would be a muddy mess. 

I look around the courtroom and grieve. I wonder how many people really know the hurt and pain of these families and children?  I also wonder how many know but look down their noses and don’t want to get their hands dirty. How many feel like it is someone else’s problem?  We live in our sterile world pretending we have a perfect life. We dabble in superficial relationships. Relationships that are just deep enough to feel good about ourselves but not deep enough to walk along beside them through their mess. Maybe we say, that is not my problem but the truth is as Christians, it is our problem. Christ says we are to serve the least of these. We are to care for the orphans.  How is it that children show up in court with no one who cares?

These kids in court are just a small picture of a bigger problem. I wonder how many of these kids and broken families have possibly crossed my path. Have they lived in my neighborhood? Showed up at my church? Did I spend five minutes waiting in the grocery store line with them pretending I was preoccupied so I didn’t have to engage?  How about you?  Did you miss a kind word? An opportunity to see the pain in someone else’s life and the opportunity to engage. To share hope. When are we going to start getting dirty and living life with people in the broken and dark places? Trust me. Broken and hurting does not equal contagious. There is great risk though. The risk of freedom from the dark and broken places that may be revealed in our own life. Maybe that’s it. Maybe we are scared our own short comings and fallen nature will fall out of the closet when we attempt to help someone else dig out of the dark into the light of Christ. 

By the grace of God, within this particular courtroom I could identify lawyers, a judge, prosecutors, directors of the juvenile system, court reporters, probation officers and so many others who love Jesus and sacrifice their time and talents to love these kids. They are not only a voice for their future but a voice of hope. The hope of Christ. As these men and women pour into these youth I wonder???

What if we could raise more Christians within the juvenile system that could share the love, hope and trust in a father who will never leave them or forsake them. What if we quit pretending to be preoccupied standing in the grocery line? What if we approached that mom trying to carry her dirty little boy out to her car with a gallon of milk and offered her a hand rather than look upon her with disgust and criticism of her care for her child. How about the man sweeping parking lot? Do you ever consider the lady or man that makes sure the gas station or airport bathroom is clean? So many opportunities, yet just like you, I become self absorbed living in my sterile word. 

Father God, thank you for the many gifts we have to offer others. Help us learn to live outside of our selfishness. Aware of those hurting around us. Help us be willing to make sacrifices in our own lives so we can be a voice for others. Help us show your unconditional love and grace. Amen.

Much love,

Chrissy

My World Went Dark…

Today marks the 6th anniversary of the day my world went dark.  You would be 32 this year.  Your baby boy will turn 7 in ten days.

The day you were born was filled with hope and joy.  Hope for my future at the young age of 18 and hope for yours.  I held you, my first born baby, and immediately I knew I would never know another love like yours.  Just like I will never know another love like your brothers in the moment I held each one of them.  You settled me.  You became an extension of me.

So wise and so very funny.  You were the voice of reason for your brothers and I, and the voice of risks as well.  You lived life wide open.  You loved the unloved. You stood up for the bullied and stood in the ditch with the homeless.  Your love never saw race, religion, or gender.  Your love only looked at the heart.  You were fiercely loyal to your friends even if their selfishness prevented them from reciprocating.

My world went dark March 21, 2016.  I can feel the anxiety and panic in the air as it rises up in my body.  I vacillated between knowing something was terribly wrong and hope.  

It is as if that day is now in slow motion.  The ring of the phone. Confusion, panic, trying to call you, trying to call anyone who might know where you were. Running over to your house, beating on the door….a glimmer of hope when a friend said you checked into your class at school.

I stood in your yard as the officer pulled slowly through our gate and crept down the drive.  I held my breath.  The car door opened, the officer stepped out.  His mouth was moving, but all I could hear as I dropped to the ground was the eerie wails of a dying animal.  I did not realize the gutteral sound shattering the silence was my own.  The smell of dirt was powerful mixed with tears and snot.

Numb, unable to put a thought together or remember where I put my glasses, looking for my phone while I was talking on it, moving from one piece of furniture to another, lack of desire to live, anger, exhaustion, confusion, my yes’ always looking like good intentions with a cancelation on the end.

It was as if those joyful, sometimes sad, sometimes hard, sometimes not, pieces of our family collided with an oversized fat cat that jumped in the middle of the table and turned it over destroying our family puzzle and spilling it all over the floor.  The violence of the fall reverberated through every inch of my being.

I would wake in the morning praying it was all a bad dream, then I would see the pieces of that puzzle scattered all over the floor.  Debilitating pain would sear my body as my mind reminded my heart the puzzle would never be able to be put together again.  

I could not imagine that there would ever be another puzzle.  I knew the pieces that were left would never ever fill the space of the piece of you but I had no idea, even in grief, it would reshape itself.  Some pieces fell away and new pieces were added.

I ache to hold you.  My tears still spill unexpectedly.  The memories I was so scared I would lose after your death are in vivid color.  I can hear your laugh, your sarcasm, your disgust.  I can see you making faces back at yourself in every mirror you encounter.  I see you in your baby.  He is a Mimi and a Momma’s baby just like you were.  He loves to read, play games and fact checks me often. 

I never knew a heart could break and experience great joy all in the same space until you went home to be with Jesus. I desperately wish you were still here in the middle of all the moments, but I am not sure I would ask you to come back if I could, unless, of course, it was for Jackson and Lauryn’s sake.  I am positive if I did you would laugh that big ole laugh like I had lost my mind.

I know you're whole and living your best life in heaven.  I am thankful for the promise of heaven and that I will see you again.  

I miss you son.

In memory of the first son to ever hear my heartbeat.

Christopher Parrish Barrow

Love,

Mom

Come As You Are

God made the world and everything in it. He made heaven and earth. He does not live in temples built by human hands, nor is he served by human hands. He is a God who needs nothing (but desires a relationship with us). He gives breath to our lungs, life to our body and everything else. From one man God made the nations, that they may inhabit the whole earth. He marked out our appointed time in history and the boundaries of our lands so we would seek him, reach for him, and find him, though he is never far away from us.

We live and move and have our very being in him (because of his grace). We are his offspring. (Offspring of the one and only Holy God). As offspring we should not think that he is like silver and gold or stone - an image made by human design and skill. God once overlooked our ignorance but now he commands ALL people to repent. God has set a day he that he will judge the world by the man he has appointed, (Jesus Christ). He declared this promise when he raised Jesus from dead.

Friends, there is nothing that can separate you from the love of God. There are consequences to our sin but you need to know deep in your heart that there is no sin that is too bad, and no choice that can’t be redeemed. There are not levels of sin, although in our humanness we would like to qualify sin into categories or hierarchy. It is hard to fathom that some of the atrocities we see and experience in this broken world are no different in the eyes of God than the sin in our own lives.

Yet there is a God who is waiting in great anticipation to welcome you

with open arms just as you are.

This notion that we have to clean up our life before we approach the throne is a lie from the devil. It is a trick he uses to try to convince us that we are not worthy of God’s grace until we clean up our act. God says, “come as you are and let me cleanse you by the blood of the Lamb. My son, the Lamb, who I sacrificed on the cross for your mess so you may have life eternal.”

Come as you are friend.

There is no broken or mistake that God can not redeem.

He brings beauty from ashes when we repent. Even the ashes you and I create when we rebel and fall short.

Much love,

Chrissy

Reference NIV Bible: Acts 17:24-31

Photo Credit: Mikail Duran, Unsplash

The Hum of a Thousand Bees

It is Sunday morning and the sun is shining after a week of cold, wet weather.  I am coming down off the extreme joy of having all three of my grandchildren this past week and nursing Advil for my muscles that are aching from being a human jungle gym.  It has been a while now since I began training my heart and mind to be anxious for nothing.  There was a time in my life, even in the not so distant past, that the rush of Sunday morning and the thought of being late could sour my heart before I even stepped out of the door.  If I had grandkids to get ready, the change of routine could throw me into a tail spin. 

It brings back memories of herding my own four little monkey’s out the door and just hoping they had two shoes, not necessarily matching, and clean clothes including underwear.  For all of you mommas that feel this way, you are not alone.  My heart would race, and my anxiety over lost shoes, spilled milk, being late for church and clash of the titans (a house full of boys) at times would set the tone with raised voices and drill sergeant instructions. My kids would unravel with my anxiousness and by the time I walked into church, I was worn out and totally disconnected.  The advantage to being late to church when you are unraveling at the seams is that you can slip into the back row of church and catch your breath for a few minutes with no expectations.  I could barely focus much less worship.

This morning was different. There was peace even getting a toddler fed and dressed.  I must add, this is a toddler that is not a morning person just like his Mimi.  A lot of that peace I can contribute to a husband who takes the initiative to handle some of the details, like fixing my coffee, getting my water cup ready (my binky), and feeding the animals and humans in the house, but the majority of that peace came from the Prince of Peace himself and the practice, as the Bible says, of taking my thoughts captive to Christ.

This morning in the chaos, it was my husband who was worried about us arriving late. Surprise, we arrived on time and dropped our grandson off at his class.  The praise and worship filled my soul.  It was not lost on me that Pastor Kyle preached on the book of Ruth and I am currently reading “How To Have Your Life Not Suck” by Bianca Olthoff which is also based on the biblical story of Ruth and Naomi.  Don’t you love it when God is trying to emphasize something in your life or teach you something?  I don’t know about you, but for this hard headed girl,  he usually does it with a double barrel.  Oh how He knows me.  

The doors of the church were left open so we could enjoy the beauty of the day.  About halfway through the service I heard the screeches and screams of children playing on the play ground.  I distinctly heard the sound of my grandson’s voice among the clang and clash of noise.  I leaned over to my husband and said “I can hear Jackson’s voice.”  It made me smile and it reminded me of just how much I love that kid. Better yet, it reminded me of how much God loves us and how well he knows us.  Even more intimately than we know the distinct voices of those we love.  I envision Him looking around at the beauty of all of his creations.  The sound must be like the hum of a thousand bees, yet, he knows which voice belongs to me and which voice belongs to you.  Not only does he know our distinct voice, but he also knows our heart.  Our coming and goings.  He hears our cries when prayers are not answered the way we envisioned.  He hears our cry when betrayal walks through the door.  He hears our cry when we lose our job.  He hears our cry when the heartache of death  touches our soul.  He hears our cry when the answer is wait and we do not understand.  Friends, I encourage you to not lose hope in whatever season of suck you may be walking through. God loves you and is working all things out for the good of those who love him. 

I am thankful that God is teaching me how to train my heart and mind to be anxious for nothing.  Not just on Sunday, but every day.  Had I been frazzled or distracted with my anxiousness this morning, I may have missed the beauty and gift of hearing my grandson’s voice in the midst of playing with all the children on the play ground.  More importantly, I may have missed the reminder my heart was desperate to hear this morning.  The reminder that I am loved, I am valued, I am uniquely created in His image, I am heard, I am known, I am protected, I am His and so are YOU.

Psalm 139: 1-6

You have searched me, Lord, 

     and you know me.

You know when I sit and when I rise;

    you perceive my thoughts from afar.

You discern my going out and my lying down;

    you are familiar with all my ways.

Before a word is on my tongue

    you, Lord, know it completely.

You hem me in behind and before,

    and you lay your hand upon me.

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,

    too lofty for me to attain.

There is no greater love than the love the Father has for us.

Much love,

Chrissy

When Life Doesn't Feel Abundant

Yesterday, during my morning quiet time I found myself writing a love letter to God.  As I opened my journal this morning, this sentence jumped out at me.

“God, your word says you will pour out in abundance over me.”

It has been almost three and a half years in this season of our life, and it sure has not felt like abundance. It has felt more like deception and greed stacked on top of an earth-shattering journey of loss and grief.  Oh how deep the arrow penetrates the soul when the instigators of the hellish vortex you find yourself in comes cloaked in Christianity, friendship, and even those you love. No time to grieve as flaming arrows fly your way. Your bones ache and your heart is shredded. It lays at your feet in a bloody mess. You can only muster enough energy to take up the shield of faith. (Ephesians 6:16). Your words are replaced with groans as your knees buckle and the tears pour down your face.

This is not a bad position to be in because it forces us into full surrender and removes us from interfering in the battle. Like God told King Jehoshaphat, the battle is not yours, but God’s. (2 Chronicles 20:15) There is nothing like death that brings the full sovereignty of God into focus. The beauty of not having the energy to fight the battle and the beauty of full surrender is that it opens the flood gates of heaven, pouring forth an abundance of grace, hope, blessings and restoration. Sweet friend, I am in no way minimizing how painful this season is for you. I know it feels as if your are being branded with a hot iron on delicate parts of your flesh. I know the smell and stench makes your eyes and nose water. I know you feel like you there is no going forward. I know some of you frankly wish you too could die. I have been there. In many ways I am still there.

Does any of this sound like the season of life you may be waking through?  Loss, disappointment, deception, greed, disillusionment, depression? Do you see your lifeless body laying on the floor of your bathroom, slick with snot and wondering if you will very be able to get up again?  The vision of abundance not even in your bucket of hope. Those hope things buried in hurt.

There are so many areas of our life that Satan lays in wait to pounce in these seasons (1 Peter 5:8) and he will use those whose hearts are willing to carry out his destruction. We must stay prayed up and walking in the spirit so that we do not fall prey to the schemes of the devil and cause great hurt and destruction in other people’s lives. We must stay prayed up so that when the attack comes and we do not have the energy, our heart, mind and soul will be trained to take up our shield of faith. We are fighting against forces and authorities and against rulers of darkness and powers of the spiritual world. (Ephesians 6:12). 

Friends, I still don’t know from one day to the next if I have the strength to rise for the day or even for five minutes. I have days, even weeks I don’t get out of my pj’s unless it is absolutely necessary. I don’t have all the answers and I struggle daily to walk upright and in surrender especially when my river of hurt has washed me out to the depths of the seas and I am gasping for breath just to survive.

Abundance has not been at the forefront of my mind this season. My struggle to merely exist has been my focus. As God’s word is true, my story is living testimony to the fact that: We have walked through fire and water, but he has brought us to a place of abundance. (Psalm 66:12) What others intended for harm, he has used for his glory to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives.  (Genesis 50:20) He has gone before us, he has never left us or forsaken us. (Deuteronomy 31:8). He has made a way in the sea, and a path in mighty waters.   He has brought forth new things and he continues to make a way in the wilderness and bring forth rivers in the desert. (Isaiah 43:16,19) He has preserved our life and kept our feet from slipping. (Psalm 66:9) He wants to do this for you too sweet friend. He sees you. He is working it all out for your good. Will you rest in that promise?

These pictures show merely a glimpse of the abundant blessings God has poured out on me and our family. These are the messes that fill my heart. These are the messes that make me realize that even in the hard times, God has chosen to bless us abundantly.  These are the messes that remind me of a God who is full of grace and desires the best for his children. These are the messes that have taught me to Embrace The Mess. I bet if you look closely in your own season of struggle you will find places that God has blessed you abundantly too, even in the in the midst of your mess.

With Love,

Chrissy

Called but Am I Enough?

This past week I had the opportunity to attend the She Speaks Conference in North Carolina.  When I received the invitation to attend, I remember immediately feeling like the Holy Spirit was saying GO.  I signed up, picked my breakout sessions with no real thought process and paid the fee.  Over the next few months I was getting information on the details of the conference and I begin to think, you did it again, you got ahead of yourself and made an impulse decision and now here you are. I could not shake the feeling that God was calling me to obedience and being a stubborn girl by nature, my heart really yearned to say no to God.  So, determined to quiet that stubborn girl, I shuffled forward a mere millimeter and planted my feet.  

In the back of my mind I was thinking, maybe something will happen so I can cancel. The treadmill of emotions as I wrestled with God looked like: Have you not seen this hot mess? I can barely rise out of bed some days and you want me to attend a conference on writing and speaking?  OK God, I’ll go, I trust you but am I enough? As the treadmill gained speed, those conversations started sounding like, Oh heck no God, I am not prepared to share my journey with the world and who the heck would care anyway and YOU know I am T-E-R-R-I-F-I-E-D of speaking in public.  Remember God, I am that girl that can’t share her story without crying. I am that girl that feels like she has to pee even if she just went.  Then I would hear my best girlfriend Hot Mess say, “Girl you are SOOO right, you got the cry ugly perfected.” and “That’s your mommas’ fault for terrorizing you during your childhood by speaking the words, “you better go in there and go to the bathroom before we leave, because I am not going stop. “”. Just writing that sentence out right now makes me feel like I need to pee, and I kid you not, I JUST went!  Amen, Hot Mess sister, thank you for always having my back. If I didn’t know I cry ugly before, I do now and it is definitely my mommas’ fault.  

Then the positive me was like, hey, this could be an advantage when you take that soul crushing journey to the bathroom scale.  You already strip down to nothing and remove your toe nail polish hoping to move the scales of injustice.  It could be water retention, so maybe God is just trying to help a girl out.  You know, always look for the positive. Does anyone else have these treadmill conversations in their head that sound like the noises at the county fair when you step into the lights of the carnival?

Girl, I went, but I have to admit the drag marks from my heels looked more like trenches than ruts that could easily be washed away with a good rain. 

It was not the conference, but the calling I was railing against.  

I knew the conference was God’s preparation to have me step out into my calling and I just didn’t feel adequate or equipped, and the truth is I am still struggling. I kept thinking, God you know my brokenness and my baggage; I have made a lot of bad choices.  I have hurt a lot of people, some intentional and some not, including myself, on my journey. God kept saying back to me, yes you have, and I am going to use it for my glory so get over yourself. I have forgiven you and I know the plans I have for you. Plans to prosper you, not harm you. Plans for your future. You are ENOUGH because I am ENOUGH.

I sat down this morning to process all God has taught me over this past week and as I went to grab my notes I opened my conference folder and there was a message that said “If you return to me, I will restore you so you can continue to serve me.  If you speak good words rather than worthless one you will be my spokesman.  You must influence them.” Jeremiah 15:19.

REPENTANCE*RESTORATION*SERVICE*INFLUENCE

I headed there in my bible to dig a little deeper and God reminded me that Jeremiah was called to warn the nations of the world about God’s judgement on sin.  God told him his calling was not going to be easy or without pain and suffering.  In fact, he says in Jeremiah 1:19, “They will fight against you”. That sounds like a struggle to me.  Emotional and physical. Then God declares “they will not overcome you, for I am with you and I will rescue you.”  In Jeremiah 15:15-21, Jeremiah reveals his own struggle with his calling and suffering. He affirms God’s longsuffering and reminds God of his own obedience then he even suggested God has lied to him.  God called him to repentance and reassured him.

“I will make you a wall to this people, a fortified wall of bronze; they will fight against you but will not overcome you, for I am with you to rescue and save you.  I will save you from the hands of the wicked and deliver you from the grasp of the cruel.”  

Do you hear God saying, I called you and it is not going to be without trials and heartache (a fight), but I have equipped (fortified) you and I will rescue you, save you, deliver you?

My heart went back to my own wrestle. That place where I feel God calling, my desire to be obedient and the feelings of being inadequate, unequipped, unqualified, not enough.

I turned the page in my bible and God breathed these words into my heart and lungs.  “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, before you were born I set you apart; I appointed you as a prophet to the nations.”  Like Jeremiahs’ voice, my voice echoed back; but God, I am not equipped or qualified,  I am to _______, I am not _____.  And God Almighty, The Maker of Heaven and Earth, The Keeper of my Heart shouted,

“Do NOT be afraid.” “I am with you.” 

Through the window that gives us a glimpse of yesterday, I can see the shuffle of obedience toward the cross and the internal wrestle that raged in my heart and mind when I felt God calling.  Sunday, as I weighed and checked my baggage at the airline counter to return home, I could not help but notice my bags were substantially lighter than when I traveled to the conference.  I felt a faint, cool breeze sigh in my soul when I realized not only where my physical bags lighter, my spirit was lighter too.  God had removed some hurt, disillusionment, disappointment and doubt through that conference. A conference that I attended because of that mere shuffle toward obedience.

I pray if you are struggling in this place of feeling called but unequipped, unqualified, inadequate, that you would let God breathe life and assurance into your being, that WHEN He calls, not IF, He will make a way and you will know deep in your being, YOU are ENOUGH.

I am so thankful to Lysa TerKeurst, Jamie Ivey, Bianca Olthoff and so many others at the conference that breathed ENOUGH into the deepest crevices of my fears and failures. I pray, if I can breathe into just one, it will be ENOUGH. You are ENOUGH because He is ENOUGH.

With Love,

Chrissy

90 Seconds and a Wig Adjustment

Don’t you wish that is all it took…90 seconds and a wig adjustment to get our life together? Throw in a tube of super glue so we can attempt to glue some of those broken pieces back together and we could show up at the Oscar’s and win all the awards for having our life together. Always the princess captivated and protected by her prince who wards off all that could shatter our world.

That might win us best actress, but is it your reality?

I wish I could tell you that this fairy tale is in more than cinematic color. I wish I could tell you that you have not been shattered by the loss of someone you love deeply, betrayed by those you trusted, encountered unmet expectations, lost your job, struggled to keep your broken marriage together, received a devastating medical loss or walked the road of addiction with a loved one. I wish I could tell you it was a dream and when the credits run you are going to go back to that life you left at the theater doors.

That just is not my reality and probably not your reality either.

So I spin…I spin as tears roll down my face and sweat puddles on the floor. I spin as I wonder if I will make it through the day. I spin as I wonder if this heart will ever mend. I spin hoping I can get my life together in those 90 seconds.

As I envision myself crossing the finish line at the gate of heaven, the Holy Spirit whispers hope in my ear. I am reminded that just like that hill climb that tears down the muscles in my body so they can be built back up stronger with more endurance, God is using my broken, shattered life to build me up stronger and with more endurance to run the race he has set before me. Hebrews 12:1-2

Our shattered heart and shattered lives bring us to a place of surrender that nothing else can. “We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about the troubles we experienced in the province of Asia. We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt we had received the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead.” 2 Corinthians 1:8-9.

I can say this with assurance, as I have walked the road of hurt you are experiencing and in so many areas of my life, I am still walking this road. I can wail, weep and pray with you at the gravesite of your child, husband, extended family member or friend. I can sit with you in your unmet expectations, loss of hope, loss of relationships, wayward children. I can feel your anguish and confusion as you cry out to God when you are betrayed by those you love.

I can also stand tall in that puddle of my own tears and sweat and declare that God WILL bring glory from your suffering and deep hurt. I encourage you to stand firm in faith and God’s truths even when (especially when) all you can see are the boulders in front of you on that mountain. When your legs and lungs burn and you don’t think you can take one more step. “God will strengthen you with his own great power so that you will not give up when troubles come..” Colossians 1:11

So get up off that couch sister and spin! Spin all those truths of God into your heart and climb while the tears roll down your face. Climb higher even when you don’t think you will ever catch your breath again. Drop those tears and sweat at the feet of Jesus and let him restore your heart to joy. Let him mend your broken heart and dreams. Spin even when you know it will take much longer than 90 seconds to get your life together and adjust your wig. For “He who was seated on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true.” Revelations 21:5

Violent/Broken/Bloodied/Bruised/Restored

Violent/Broken/Bloodied/Bruised/Restored

“Your son is dead. We think he may have swerved to miss a deer and lost control”.  Collapse, shock, saltwater waves pouring over my head sucking me under, burning my lungs, stinging my eyes. I want to reach out to comfort others around me that are feeling the impact but I can feel nothing, hear nothing. Paralysis. His natural body lay in an open field as the angels escorted his soul to heaven. He is finally whole for all eternity. Never to be bloodied, broken or bruised again (physically or emotionally). Christopher Parrish Barrow, age 25, experienced physical death in that moment. My first born son. 

If you have never experienced the death of a child, you will never fully understand the paralyzing pain of the loss. I am not minimizing the pain of loss of other loved ones. Unfortunately, I have also experienced the pain of the loss of my earthly father, a spouse, my grandparents and dear friends. Yet, in my personal experience, nothing compares to the loss of my child. 

There is no relief from the weight of grief. That beautiful child I carried in my womb. The beat of my heart, the first sound that he heard. The boy that taught me about unconditional love, sacrifice, selflessness. A 3 year old that asked “Mommy how can Jesus live in your heart?  There are too many bones in there.”.  My sinner/saint. Aren’t we all? A young man who chose spiritual life through his savior Jesus Christ. The man that was drawn to the lonely, who poured his life into “the least of these”.  A young man I watched take his first drink in college, struggle with alcoholism, struggle to find his calling in life, his choice of friends and denial by some family, that bred death instead of life, unequally yolked relationships, engaged to be married, a new baby. So much joy, fear, anxiety, hope. Son/Brother/Fiancé/Daddy/Provider.  A man after God’s own heart.

The pain and suffering of watching him make destructive choices I could not change nor control was almost unbearable yet it was just a glimpse into the pain that was to come. I am so very grateful that God gave me eyes to see and the wisdom and knowledge to get him help, but it did not mitigate the hurt and destruction his addiction was causing me and others who were intimately engaged, eyes wide open, trying to help him in his struggle and trying to love him through it. Having a front row seat to my son’s alcoholism/addiction also gave me a front row seat to God’s power and provision. I witnessed God’s grace in action and the nudge of the Holy Spirit in Christopher’s life. It blossomed and bloomed into a beautiful testimony. It strengthened his desire to show Jesus to his new son. To exemplify the characteristics of a Godly father and husband to his future wife and son. How he honored me as his mother, a bond so deep and unique no deception, deceit, or self-serving lies could destroy it. How he counseled and loved his brothers and friends. 

Sleepless nights of worry. Where is he? What is he doing? Who is he hanging out with? What is his emotional and physical state? Has he relapsed? Will I get that call? Will he hurt himself or someone else?  How would his consequences affect his future, his sons future, his soon to be wife’s future? I’m just not sure how much more I can take.

I’m going to boldy jump out there at the risk of criticism and judgment and share something most parents that have walked the road of addiction with their children are so very ashamed to express. I pray my raw honesty will bring spiritual freedom and healing for those that need to know they are not alone. Sadly, as with many parents who are struggling with a child who is battling addiction, there is a momentary relief from worry and relief that your child no longer has to suffer through addiction in those finite moments of hearing the proclamation of death....followed by a profound sense of guilt in feeling that fleeting moment of relief.  I knew Chris was safe and with Jesus. Little did I know that worry would turn into sleepless nights of agony and loss for over many years. Loss of hopes and dreams for his future. Loss of hopes and dreams for his son. Loss of a brother. Loss of a friend. Loss of relationships. Loss of my desire to live.

ACHE, HEAVY, OPPRESSIVE. An elephant sitting on on my chest. One more wave... will I catch my breath??  At least his presence on earth provided this mother’s heart some hope. A heart that was 100% confident that God would bring glory and restoration as He used Chris for His kingdom. As most parents, I whole heartedly believed that my sons life would impact the world for the better. As a Christian mother, I whole heartedly believed my child would find his purpose and flourish in service for the Kingdom of God in life. Never had I considered Chris’ impact could or would happen after his physical death. Seven or more who were saved at his funeral not to mention countless others since then. The glory and assurance of life after death.

I admire the parent who intentionally orchestrated his son’s death to bring life. Many days I feel sorry for myself and wallow in my self-pity. On days like that I have to remind myself about the story of the father who had a perfect son. Blameless, obedient, grounded in his purpose for the Kingdom of God. He was a joy to his mother and father, never bringing heartache or worry as he walked this earth in his physical body. He discipled others, taught and mirrored unconditional love, healed the sick and broke all the rules to bring hope, love and life to “the least of these”.  The son’s father saw how broken the world was and he made a decision. He chose his son to be the sacrificed for our sins, our stupidity, our pride, our addictions, our selfishness, our blatant disobedience. He poured out his life on earth but more importantly he poured out his life in death for me and for you. 

Let’s be real. There is absolutely NO way I would willingly sacrifice my children for anyone else’s baggage/sin. I’m ashamed to say, I feel pretty sure I would look around and say “God, surely there is someone else’s son who could be sacrificed. I know he has screwed up, I know he makes dumb decisions, but I am not sacrificing him for you or anyone. Oh, and don’t forget he is fallen because of a choice Adam and Eve made in the garden, and you are the one who created them.”  God could have said “hey, my son is blameless. He has healed, restored, fought his enemies valiantly for my kingdom and loved his neighbors. He has obeyed my commands. I’m not giving him up for your stupidity and brokenness. In fact, I think I will just let all of you suffer the consequences of hell based on Adam and Eve’s choice.”

Do you see the connection?  Do you see the difference? 

Blameless...and then..

Violent/Broken/Bloodied/Bruised

God looked at Chris, he looked at you and me and said “I love you”. In spite of your choices, addiction, brokenness, disobedience. I love you so much I am going to sacrifice my only son for you. He will be shamed, ridiculed, beaten, and hung on the cross for you. His mother and I will watch and grieve. I will endure the pain of my child being stripped, beaten, accused for your stupid choices. His flesh will hang from his body, nails will be driven through his hands and feet crushing his bones. His blood will spill out on the earth. I will send my perfect son to suffer for your imperfections.  Think about how his father felt knowing he would have to experience the death of his child to bring life to you and me. 

God raised his precious son from the grave to sit at the right hand of God the Father just as he promised. A father who endured the pain of a parent who has lost a child. He sent and watched his son die and then rise from the grave to join him for all eternity. A father, our father, who knows the pain and the ache intimately of losing a child. He also knows the overwhelming joy of being reunited with his son when he rose from the grave to reign in all of heaven and earth for eternity. 

Just like my broken, bloodied, bruised child, Christ died physically but is alive spiritually for all eternity. Those who are saved will only experience physical death. Those who are not will experience physical death, spiritual death and a second death of hell for all eternity. This mother’s heart thinks of the violent wreck, my sons broken physical body and his restoration to glory. No more tears, no more pain. Worshiping at the feet of Jesus.  I walk through this life anxiously awaiting my reunion with him never to be separated again. Chris was saved by grace, received by the angels in death and is worshiping at the feet of The Almighty. In this there is hope even as I battle the waves of paralyzing grief. 

Lord, let me and others that have experienced loss or the struggle of addiction, remember that you know our pain and struggles intimately. That you love us more than we can imagine. That we are to walk daily in your love sharing it with others that are broken just like we are. Bringing hope to those that feel so alone. Lord I lift other parents up to you who have lost their children. Bring them peace that passes understand knowing that they are not alone, that the God of the universe intimately understands their hurt and pain. May they give themselves a lot of grace through their journey of grief. 

#embracingthemess  #addiction #lossofason

Breaking The Stronghold

About a month ago I was in a conversation with my cousin and we were talking about identifying strongholds that the devil has had on our life so that we can release them to God.  I have to say I have wrestled with the answer I am about to give you, but God spoke very clearly to me when he told me that my children were Satan’s stronghold.  I have allowed Satan to use my children and my undying love for them to keep me in bondage and to keep me from putting my trust completely on the solid rock of Jesus. That became even more evident when Christopher died.   If I am being blatantly honest, I am ashamed to say that I would lay down my life in a heartbeat for my children, but I have not always been able to say, I would lay down my life for Christ and His Kingdom, nor would I have chosen Christ over my children.  I began to really assess what God was saying to me. In Matthew 10:37, the bible says, “Anyone who loves their father or mother more than me is not worthy of me; anyone who loves their son or daughter more than me is not worthy of me.”  This verse struck my heart.  My sin piercing deep.  Great remorse spilled forth.  The sorrow of my sin that once again proved me unworthy of the grace Jesus so freely pours out on me.  I knew I loved Jesus, I knew I was saved by grace, but I wanted to learn to love Jesus more than anything, even my own flesh and blood.  My children.  

I had my first son when I was 18 years old. By the young age of 23, I was a mom of three.  Those boys have been my life line.  They were not just a gift from God, they were mine alone.  When everything else was falling apart around me, they were always there.  My steady, my rock.  I could not see a purpose for my life outside of being their mom. My boys were more important than my own life and certainly more important in my life than even my spouse. They became my idol.  The thing my heart was set upon above the things of God and my obedience to God’s word. My priorities were completely skewed, and I was in blatant disobedience of God’s word.  I am not saying I would not have had struggles with my children or in my marriages if I had my priorities in line, but I am saying that my disobedience in that area of my life caused extra unnecessary heartache for my children and me.  

I was raised in a home where there was no doubt I was loved, but it was also an environment of deception and manipulation. The lack of a Godly example in a father figure and husband left me extremely confused.  Frankly, I did not trust any man to care for me or my children the way I could.  That included God.  I honored my children above my spouse.  I honored my children above my God. Please don’t miss understand me.  I am in no way throwing stones or shame and blame.  My life has not always displayed a Godly example of a mother or wife and even today I fall short. I simply share that fact with you, so you understand how Satan used it and my own disobedience to keep me in bondage.

It wasn’t until my boys were in their pre-teen years, when God brought a man into my life that loved me the way Christ loves the church, that I begin to truly understand and respect the husband and wife relationship.  He patiently loved me into “wifehood”.  He also showed me, by example with my boys, what fatherhood should look like.  Not perfect by any means, but perfectly ours and most definitely used by God for my spiritual growth.  I began to understand that my marriage was more important than my children and that I could trust a man to keep his word and take care of the boys and me.  I am also certain God put me in a position of being his full-time caregiver when he became ill to teach me how to honor my spouse and my marriage over my children. Even though it was hard, I loved taking care of him.

Through that marriage, God also brought strong Christian women in to my life that loved me fiercely and unconditionally. That is saying a lot, especially considering there was a large age difference between Ron and me. They could have chosen to treat me nasty and as an outcast, but instead they embraced me and made me their own. They have no idea how much that impacted my life.  I watched their every move.   Their example of Godly marriages had a huge impact on my growth.  Five, in particular, that I admire the most (and I hope they won’t mind if I mention) are the Bright’s, Nassar’s, Abercia’s, Mousa’s, and Kamel’s.  Those five women, the Abercia women and Mrs. Harris and the Harris women have taught me so much. I will never be able to fully express my love and gratitude for their unconditional friendships. Even then, those relationships did not change my idol of my children, but they did encourage me to be a better wife and taught me the importance of putting your husband above your children and also how important women relationships are in our life. 

In his early adulthood, my 1st born son took his first drink and soon after I began to realize he was an alcoholic. A disease that was passed down through generations.  He was a binge drinker.  He may not drink but once every six months, but when he did, he couldn’t stop at just one. If there was one, there were ten. His addiction impacted my life, his brothers and the lives of strangers.  The rest of his family and friends lived in a state of denial which gave Satan a stronger stance to try to convince me that Chris was just going through a phase, but the Holy Spirit, over a period of time, kept bringing things to light. Satan used his addiction to keep our family in a state of confusion. God is not a God of confusion. I knew this to be true, and Chris’s addiction was definitely causing confusion, but I had a terrible time applying that to one of the idols of my heart.  My child. My god, my purpose, my pride, Satan’s stronghold.  My middle child became the lost child and my youngest finally rebelled and smoked his first joint the day I buried my husband.  None of us knew how to cope.  My emotions, reactions, successes and failures had always been dictated by the actions, reactions, success and failures of my children.  It is where I placed my worth.  My purpose. Chris’s addiction magnified that a billion times over.    

Chris had been in a wreck that injured a young lady. My heart was broken for him and for her and her family.  Part of the fallout from that was that I too was ostracized and took the shame and blame for my son’s actions.  His dad was hands-off, so even he did not have to experience the pain Chris’ addiction was causing the boys and me.  Just to name a few of those moments, Mothers Against Drunk Drivers refused to allow me to be a member because of Chris’s bad choices and destruction, here I am crying “I am a Mother AGAINST Drunk Driving!”.  The victim liaison moved my husband (who was then in a wheelchair and on oxygen) all around the courtroom at one of Chris’s hearings just to prove her point.  Satan used it to tell me I was not a good mother.  That I should have done more.  That I failed Chris.  That I was failing my other boys.  That Chris’s disease was somehow my fault.  That God’s promises were not true.  That God didn’t care about my hurt and suffering.  That the whole world thought I was an awful parent, “see even MADD will no longer accept your membership dues”.  His father told Chris and I both that “I was just over reacting”. My emotions were on the ride of their life.  Super highs and super lows.  Satan constantly whispering in my ear.  You are not enough.  You are a failure. 

Christopher, in true addict fashion, became the master of deceit and manipulation in order to hide his drinking from me.  Those periods of time when he was sober were an oasis.  I had no greater joy than to hear that my child was walking in the truth once again. (3 John 1:4) I would see him working his program, working on his relationship with God, working on himself, setting goals, hanging out with positive peers and then, Satan would begin whispering in his ear that he was not enough, he was disappointing everyone in his life, he would never be good enough. The phone would ring, and my reality and heart would shatter all over again.  I would climb back on that rollercoaster trying to love him but not enable him. Satan would climb into the seat next to me and try to remind me of all of my failures. Ironically, I was crying out to the God I didn’t fully trust to care for my children the way I did to save Chris from himself.  

It wasn’t until I found a support group of other parents that were dealing with the same thing that Satan’s stronghold began to breakdown in my life.  The Holy Spirit used them to encourage me and support me.  I am sad to say, it wasn’t my church or my Christian friends or even Chris’s friends that stood by me through Chris’s addiction, with the exception of those friends that were battling addiction themselves.  It made them uncomfortable when I tried to talk with them.  They couldn’t relate.  His friends and other family did not want to admit that he had a problem.  To admit that our children suffer from addiction takes an examination of oneself.  It can be ugly, but it is necessary if we want to support our children through recovery. I’m sure many were just praying it wouldn’t happen to their children.  Possibly some were thinking “I am a much better parent than she is, I am sure it won’t happen to my children.”  “Have you seen all the bad choices she has made?  Of course her kid is an addict!”. Lies, lies, lies, all of the devil, to cause division. I felt isolated.  Lonely.  There were hundreds of sleepless nights wondering, worrying, riddled with anxiety. The roller coaster of hope when the disease was held at bay and Satan was roaming the earth looking for others to destroy until he returned seven-fold. Matthew 12:43-45 says “Now when the unclean spirit goes out of a man, it passes through waterless places seeking rest, and does not find it. “Then it says, ‘I will return to my house from which I came’; and when it comes, it finds it unoccupied, swept, and put in order. “Then it goes and takes along with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there; and the last state of that man becomes worse than the first. That is the way it will also be with this evil generation.”  This was very much what my son’s addiction looked like. It is the pattern of addiction for most.

Still, I refused to fully turn my children and their well-being over to the God who created them.  He was a man, He was a father and I didn’t trust either!  My track record with men stunk.  Since Chris’s death, I have begun to understand that God is completely in control.  “He got up, rebuked the wind and said to the waves, “Quiet! Be still!” Then the wind died down and it was completely calm.  He said to his disciples, “Why are you so afraid? Do you still have no faith?”  (Mark 4:39-40). He loves our children.  He created them for his pleasure and purpose.  “For you created my inmost being: you knit me together in my mother’s womb.  I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” (Psalm 139:13-14) He can be trusted. “For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that people are without excuse.” (Romans 1:20), and He alone should be the idol of our heart.  “You shall have no other gods before me.” (Exodus 20:3). New mommies take heed as you struggle to balance motherhood and being a wife.  It is so very easy to overlook our relationship with God and/or our spouse and allow our children to become the idols of our heart.  

In the aftermath of Chris’s death, Satan once again tried to use my children as a stronghold and attempted to even use my grandchildren as a stronghold.  He used Chris’s addiction and his personal choices to try to convince me that I am terrible mother even though God tells me I am not.  My children are at the age of accountability and responsible for their own choices and walk with Christ.  The difference this time was that God had become the idol of my heart. The anxiety and stress of not only his death but the aftermath threw my physical body into rejection of itself and I am now battling an autoimmune disease, but I will not be shaken. God still remains faithful and so will I. I will choose to stand on God’s promises rather than jump on that rollercoaster that Satan loves to ride next to me on whispering lies in my ear.  I have watched Satan use his minions, wolves dressed in sheep’s clothing, (https://www.crosswalk.com/faith/spiritual-life/5-ways-to-recognize-a-wolf-in-sheep-s-clothing.html) to manipulate and deceive people I have loved for years and thought the world of, all for the sake of pride and greed. The hurt and betrayal cuts deep, but instead of allowing the devil to steal my joy, this season of trials has strengthened my faith. “What you intended for harm, God has used for my good.” (Genesis 50:20) God’s truths tell me that my God goes before me to fight my battles. “For the LORD your God is the one who goes with you to fight for you against your enemies to give you victory.” (Deut. 20:4) “He is my loving God and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield, in whom I take refuge, who subdues peoples under me.” (Psalm 144:2)

Most importantly, I have learned to turn my children over to God and release my anxiety about their wellbeing and choices to Him.  This takes constant, intentional practice. They are no longer Satan’s stronghold in my life.  They are children of the King. Set aside and sanctified for His kingdom. Their heritage is of the Lord.  They are His, not mine and He is their father and my father.  Trust worthy, loving, kind, all powerful, fair and just.  He is a good, good father.  He commands me to be anxious for nothing as I bring my praise, my hurt and my requests before him.“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Philippians 4:6). He keeps his word.  He loves me, and I can truly finally say, that He alone is the idol of my heart and Satan no longer can use my children as a stronghold in my life. Jesus is my stronghold. On the solid rock I stand.  “Do not tremble, do not be afraid. Did I not proclaim this and foretell it long ago? You are my witnesses. Is there any God besides me? No, there is no other Rock; I know not one.”(Isaiah 44:8). “my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation. He is my stronghold (not my children), my refuge and my savior-- from violent people you save me.”  (2 Samuel 22:3)

 “And you, son of man, on the day I take away their stronghold, their joy and glory, the delight of their eyes, their heart’s desire, and their sons and daughters as well—on that day a fugitive will come to tell you the news.At that time your mouth will be opened; you will speak with him and will no longer be silent. So you will be a sign to them, and they will know that I am the LORD.” (Ezekiel 24:25-27)

Thank you, Father God, for removing the strongholds in my life and setting my heart’s desire on you alone.  Forgive me for putting other god’s before you.  May I no longer be silent, may I speak your truth and share my story so that others may know you personally as their rock and their fortress.  The sole idol of my heart. The sole idol of their heart. May they know that you alone are God!

 “He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.  I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.”…He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.  You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday.  A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you…For he will command his angels concerning you, to guard you in all your ways…“Because he loves me,” says the Lord, “I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.  He will call upon me, and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble, I will deliver him and honor him…” (Psalm 91:1-16)

Do you have strongholds in your life that the devil uses to hold you in bondage?  I would love to hear your story, share your journey with you and pray for you.