She Lied

I'm not quite sure what she meant when she confidently told me that I'd run again, but now I figure maybe she didn't quite understand my injuries. Or maybe she did, and she was just projecting hope on a 24 year old broken and battered body laying in a hospital bed. I think about that doctor often. I remember her looking at me and assuring me that I'd run again. Maybe she felt like the right thing to say was that I'd be complete and whole again. I don't think she meant to lie to me, but she lied. Five years later the pain continues. Five years later if I had to run away from someone chasing me I kind of could (laugh with me here), but running is no longer a part of my life. I walk a lot and even that can be too much.

I've consistently had check points that prove to me my limitations that doctors and therapists have now concluded and finally admitted are permanent. This is what five years after significant injury gives you. It gives you pain and does not promise anything more or better. If anything it reminds you that you will tear down and become worse. People say they want to die with their bodies used up from living life, and I'd like to remark that I'm well on my way. It's frustrating. It's exhausting. It's a trial. Maybe a smaller trial than the ones others experience but a trial nonetheless. 

This is life.

But...

And this will be rich. The big question in all of this pain and suffering is whether or not it's for the gospel. Because if my body is falling apart and my flesh returns to dust, and the gospel has not been shared then it is all hopeless. The pain is useless and futile. The trial has been wasted. I must remember that on days when I reflect on the past five years of frustrations and sadness. I must remember to be thankful especially when it's hard and I don't want to be thankful. People are quick to offer their boxed up answer for why with a bow tied on top. That's just not good enough for me. Also many times it is not in line with the teachings of the Bible. Nonetheless the Lord spared me five years ago and when I hear of similar accidents that do not end so well, I must ask myself why this portion for them and that portion for me. Why I live and why they die. Why some walk away completely unharmed while I remain broken. The unending questions. The lies that can easily creep into my heart.

This situation of being spared cannot be because I am special. I am not putting myself down, however, I am clarifying that I am a normal person with no extraordinary talents. The sparing of my life cannot be because I am good. I can tell you for certain that I am not, and I lack in every fiber of my being the ability to be good. Also my being injured is not from me being bad even though I am bad. This was not some sort of punishment upon me. So that leaves us with one thing. The one thing left is that the Lord alone has my days numbered and chooses who and what can or cannot touch me, and five years ago wasn't the day for me to go to heaven but it was the day for me to enter into suffering. There's nothing more and nothing less to calculate in the equation. We will all die. We will all suffer. But life is this gift that he gives us. He sustains us with his very breath. Our responsibility with this breath is up to us. We can turn to him in the mess of this damaged life and praise him. Or we can turn away. I pray that my heart never becomes hardened throughout the pain. I pray it becomes soft. I pray that the gospel that Jesus has come to redeem sinners from this world is proclaimed from my lips. I pray that sinners would repent and turn to him. May this be my message until my Father takes away my last breath in this life.

This past month I had two very different but insightful dreams. Don't get worried that I'm about to get weird on you. Just hang with me for a bit. My first dream was full of light, and I felt safe and free for the first time in awhile. I was walking with someone I knew, but didn't know. You know how dreams work and are weird like this. I was being escorted into a room surrounded by glass with light brightly streaming in on my face. A sea of faces of unknown people on the outside of the glass room stood around to watch me expectantly. A gift was waiting for me. They all knew what it was, and I began to realize what was before me. It was a gift of something I very much wanted. I sat down to receive this precious gift astounded and amazed. This was the working of the Lord. As it was revealed to me I bowed my head and lifted my hands in the air to give glory to God. I knew that only he could give this to me, and I was finally receiving it. My only response was to adore the one who gives. Everything around me, including the gift, became secondary to worshipping him. My heart was pierced. My Lord heard my cries and answered my soul after so long. I felt free.

A few weeks later I had a very different dream. This dream was dark. I was not sure where I was, but I felt cold and alone. Soon people surrounded me that I quickly identified and knew. Faces from my present and my past. Friends and foes. I was talking with these people and accusations were quickly coming to the surface. They knew the depths of my dark sins and were bringing them up and discussing them with one another while reminding me of my wrongdoing. There was no longer a distinction between who was for me and who was against me. Before all I was wrong. I felt ashamed. I felt guilty. I had no answer for them because I knew what they were saying of me was true. I was rightfully culpable of the charges stacking up against me. They were disappointed in me, and I was devastated. Where could I go? How could I escape? Everything remained bleak and empty except for the condemnation on their faces. I finally went into a dark corner and got on my knees. My heart was so heavy and all I could do was lift my hands and pray. I stood guilty before the Lord with a broken heart, but I knew he was the only safe place I could turn. Without him I remained hopeless. My heart was pierced. God felt far away and yet he was the only answer. I felt bondage.

Both of these dreams strongly affected me for days. I'm not mystical when it comes to dreams, and yet I think these dreams reflect something deep in my soul. I hope they truly reflect that I have learned to praise God in the good and in the bad. I pray that my response in real life is like my response in these dreams. Whether God gives or takes away, I want to bless his name. It's hard, right? At times you get exactly what you want and then the next time you look up it's all been stripped away. How can this be? What is the point?

When we look at scripture all things point to his glory. The story of Job, the testing of Peter, and the trials of all the disciples profess a profound story in which God is making himself known to his people, and brokenness is a beautiful thing. The one thing I know is that God's glory is on display in a greater way through trials. I am not sure why it works this way, but I rest knowing that God is trustworthy. I rest knowing that one day this world will fade away. My challenge to you is to consider is whether or not the trials of this world will consume you and if you'll fade away along with this world. The only way not to disappear into the darkness is through Christ. He is the only one who can make you pure and blameless.

November 22, tomorrow, marks five years ago that began a season of darkness and trials and thorns. I think we all experience these things, but we do not give into them. In light of this I cling to the words of Paul inspired by the Holy Spirit:

So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

2 Corinthians 12: 7-10


Do you believe God's grace is sufficient? Do I? I pray that at the end of my life the Lord will be blessed by his servant Taryn. I look forward to him wiping the tears away from my face while I enter into his peace and rest. I will spend all of eternity worshipping him. And I'm planning on taking a few laps around the new heavens and earth running as fast as I can for his glory. Sound silly? I didn't think so either.


Praising the One True God today,

Taryn

Moving Mountains

If you refer to my previous blog post, you will see how the Lord answered my prayer and I am assuming the prayer of so many other people for this place of false worship to be torn down.  Just a reminder that my God moves mountains and is God who allows cities to fall down just by his people being obedient and walking around it.  He is mighty.  He is no statue that can fall and crumble. Stand in awe and worship. And pray believing he listens.

These links show the damage to the White Temple.

Wat Rong Khun Beyond Repair

Earthquake Beheads Buddha Statue

Rub Some Dirt On It

Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. That person should not expect to receive anything from the Lord. Such a person is double-minded and unstable in all they do.

James 1:2-8

It's 1:43 am. Jet lag is a beast. My mind won't rest. So here I am. I am a little unsure of what to say because everyone has so much to say these days, so maybe the purpose is just a little bit of soul searching for myself. Maybe it's facing the lies that have been tormenting me for too long. I have bought into the saying of “rub some dirt on it” as a way of coping and dealing with life. And it just doesn't work.

After several years now of what seems like significant trial after trial, I'm really tired. After a difficult accident, a hard time in Spain where I felt sick most of the time, another surgery, a suicide followed by deep grief and loss that cannot be resolved, and loneliness, I start to focus more on the suffering than on the One who I should be finding joy in. Job's grieving in sackcloth and ashes and even the scraping of wounds doesn't sound crazy in the least bit. The facade of cool, calm and collected has fallen once again. I feel overwhelmed and mocked once again. I wonder where my Savior is and if he is good.

I think I lost it for the millionth time when I keep seeing a friend who is silently struggling and won't speak. I lost it for the millionth time coming home from an amazing trip to Thailand that reminded me that my body has literally been broken and does not seem like it will ever completely heal. I think I also lost it when it seems like everyone else's life moves forward with no bumps while I feel like I'm a punching bag for Satan. I just couldn't keep it up because I'm so tired of everyone pretending like it's all okay all of the time when I privately hear the same struggles expressed over and over again by others and myself. Whether Satan likes it or not, it is time to speak truth again.

Holly and I were standing in the most ironic Buddhist temple ever built. Wat Rong Khun, known as the White temple, is beautiful. Google it, let your eyes take it in because you will not see the darkness until looking a bit closer. Snared and contorted faces can be found in the midst of calm, relaxing ones. White concrete hands desperately reach from the bottom of somewhere at the bridge leading to the entrance of the temple. Light is reflected by the temple.  People come to make merit and bow down to manmade statues. I could see and recognize the darkness of it all and even questioned myself as I took pictures of it. Was it right or wrong to take pictures? Everything about this place seemed like the biggest lie ever.

I felt quite physically broken as we walked into the temple. I was talking with Holly expressing my frustrations. Nothing was right. I was on the trip of a lifetime and my feet and legs were more swollen than ever, and I had just fallen off of an ostrich (weird, I know) and thought I possible broke my ribs (because I do know what broken ribs feel like and this hurt!) It just seemed like the biggest joke in the world was being played on me as I lived through pain once again. Could I ever move somewhere again that requires walking and warmer temperatures or will my legs always give out? What is the purpose of being 28 years old and in a body that feels like it's breaking down?  Why do I get to suffer the injuries?

I shared with Holly the attack I was feeling. I told her that I was tired of being tired. I told her that it seems so unfair for others to walk seemingly less difficult trials. I reflected back on the past year and saw God as distant and uninterested in my life. Satan was playing a trick on me. I was in pain and had been physically attacked in the two areas of my body that have been broken by two separate car accidents. Was this a coincidence? I couldn't help but to imagine Satan laughing at me reminding me that he's the ruler of this world and that he does in fact ask God to allow us to be challenged, tempted, and broken. I was so mad because shouldn't God come help me this time? I keep following time after time but I am really tired of the joke being on me. I heard others around me say that God allowed these things because he knew I could “handle it” and then I called bull crap because I about went crazy hearing that junk (maybe I said something different, don't judge). I said that no one can just “handle it” apart from God's grace and I was sick of hearing that same lie from people who mean well. Rub some dirt on it because you can take on the pain. Rub some dirt on it because THEN it will feel better. Rub some dirt on it THEN you will forget that you've been cut open and are bleeding. I shared some frustrations with Holly and she shared some truth with me.

It wasn't profound. It wasn't anything I hadn't heard before. She just told me that God has good things coming oftentimes when we face trials. For whatever reason I felt hope for the first time in a long time. I felt like maybe, just maybe, God was weaving some grand tapestry and he hadn't forgotten the small string that I represented among the millions in that tapestry. Maybe the darkness that I had felt emotionally wasn't futile. Maybe the physical pain was to draw me nearer and nearer to him because I can be too self-reliant. We continued to walk around the temple and I refused to relent like times before. Maybe the Spirit stirs in me in these times through my stubbornness. So I prayed for the people of Thailand. I prayed for God to tear down, literally, this ugly place of worship that puts on a mask of light. I prayed for Satan's rule to end and for Thailand to be a place where people are known to worship the true God. And I gave myself over to him again because once you experience truth you can never convince yourself of anything else. It's like when you know 2+2=4 you cannot ever be convinced that 2+3=4 or even 2+7=4. It's impossible.

Tonight I decide to keep trusting him in the early hours of the morning even though it all still hurts. I decide to walk forward even though I have no idea why I go to a Greek class at 8:30 am but this is the place in which God has me now. I decide to let it go for the millionth time because as much as I see the foolishness of bowing down to manmade idols, I always find little idols firmly planted in the depths of my heart. I can guarantee I'll go through this same process at another time probably sooner rather than later, but I'm calling bull crap (or something else) on rubbing some dirt on it. Instead of seeing brokenness as a bad thing, I'm choosing to trust that all of my brokenness is to help me rely more on God. I don't like it, and it hurts, but it is required of us as believers in the one true God who cannot be made into a manmade object. He is terrifyingly beautiful and majestic. Words cannot contain him, our minds cannot fathom him, and he is above all, so bow down before him.

He is the only one who takes broken things and puts them back together again to make something extraordinarily beautiful. I'm counting on it because everything I have is broken.