The Struggle is Real

Have your circumstances and difficulties ever just seemed too big?  Overwhelming and too much to handle?  Are you ever just completely over it and ready to throw in the towel?  Does the weight on your shoulders just seem too burdensome?  Tired of working, tired of trying, tired of straining.  Just dog-gone tired?

You see, Eric and I have had a 'thorn in our side' for quite a while now.  One that's been around for several years, and probably isn't going to disappear anytime soon.  We all have them--these thorns.  They're sharp and they're painful.  Spend any amount of time living on this side of heaven and you're sure to experience being stuck by a thorn or two.  Whether a sickness, a financial issue or a relationship-problem, the struggle is real.

So, this is where I found myself Sunday afternoon.  Heavy-hearted.  Defeated.  Tired.  So, so tired.  Too tired to lift myself out of the muck of our circumstances.  Too tired, even, to cry out to the only One who can lift us onto higher ground.  I felt hopeless and stuck.

Lost.  Flailing.  But not too far gone to call a friend on SOS speed dial and ask for help.  She prayed earnestly and compassionately, necessitating a little CPR on my behalf.  As she claimed and lifted up Truth over my concerns, I was able to breathe a little easier for the time being.  That's one of the beautiful things about friends.  They step in and do, when we can't.

The prayers, they sustained me that afternoon.  Yet that burden--that millstone--still felt heavy-laden and massive.  

Such was me when I walked into the chapel at our church Sunday evening, arriving for Eric's deacon ordination.  Oh, you would not have known that I was crawling into that place with a boulder that felt like the size of Mount Everest between my shoulder blades.  I just looked like a regular 40-something mom, walking down the aisle with her three teenagers and two children in tow (who may or may not have had a slight attitude over the fact that they had to wear jeans).  

Why do we have to dress up???  Why couldn't we wear our sweats???  Why can't we stay in the gym and play basketball during the service???  

{{{Oh, if they only could realize that for most people, wearing jeans is not even dressing up!}}}

But back to my story.  

My heavy load may not have been evident to the naked eye.  Or seen by the on-lookers.  But there was One looking on that saw it more clearly than even myself.

One who knows what we need.  One who can furnish a fresh supply of oxygen when it's running low. 

The ordination began with music, followed by the testimonies of the two being ordained.  As my husband shared his/our sweet story, I remembered.  I remembered our grace-filled God, pulling us out of hell-bent lives.  Sometimes we just need to look back and recall, to be reminded of what we were saved from and how far we've come.  The simple act of remembering took my eyes off the temporary--the here and now--and placed them on the eternal.  As my vision shifted, that boulder between my blades got a few pounds lighter.  

Next, though, was most powerful of all.  After speaking for a few minutes about what it means to be a deacon, our pastor called Eric and I up to the center of the stage to sit in two chairs.  As we positioned ourselves, he called forward the current deacons of our church to pray over us.  I will never, ever forget the sight of those humble, strong men walking towards us.  Like warriors with their serving papers, marching to battle.  They gathered around, laid hands upon us, lifting up powerful, compelling prayers.  

While my circumstances didn't change, there surely was a great exchange.  Sturdy, 'weighty' prayers seized the load from my frail shoulders.  It was taken away and literally delivered to God, who is always ABLE, MORE THAN ABLE to carry that which is too heavy for us.

The effectual, fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.  James 5:16

To many in that room, this was an ordinary, routine deacon ordination.

To one small, defeated and hopeless-feeling soul, it was so much more.  It was God reaching down and using the intercession of many to revive a tired spirit.  Life-giving words being lifted up on behalf of others for one who had temporarily run out of steam.  

'for I know that this will turn out for my deliverance through your prayers and the provision of the Spirit of Jesus Christ'  Phil. 1:19

Let's face it.  The struggle is real.  It's a battle out there.  Sometimes we all need a little help.  A little encouraging nudge to keep on, keeping on.  A little God-boost to get us back up and going.  

Those prayers on Sunday--they were my boost.  The strength to enable me to not just stand, but to stand on the heights.  Intercessory prayer is no small thing.  How grateful I am for the perseverance and petition of faithful friends when I'm too weak to do it myself.  

It is God who arms me with strength

and keeps my way secure.

He makes my feet like the feet of a deer;

He causes me to stand on the heights.

He trains my hands for battle;

My arms can bend a bow of bronze.

You make your saving help my shield, 

and your right hand sustains me; 

Your help has made me great. 

You provide a broad path for my feet, 

so that my ankles do not give way. 

Psalm 18:32-36