“If you can’t find God, look lower,” says the Nightbirde in her blog post made famous by her America’s Got Talent audition. When brought low, life is a scramble. Up is down, and down is up.
Sometimes we lower ourselves, and sometimes, the Lord brings us lower. I am in a season where the Lord has laid me low. When brought low, sometimes, if I am honest, I wonder if it will be longer than just a season. Like the psalmists I say, “How long?” Recounting the negatives does no good. Stacked up, the negatives look truer than truth. So I count the blessings.
- God loves me no matter who believes whatever else about me.
- I bear God’s image no matter how I am treated.
- All the pain is eating away the pride killing my soul.
- Farmer’s market fruit and veggies
- A daughter learning to drive
- My limits show just how unlimited He is.
- Answered prayers of provision.
And on and on, I should go, but I am not good at counting blessings. I am not good at daily disciplines. But lately, I’ve been thinking about them.
A friend of mine recently wrote that God called her to practice the daily office of forgiveness. She mentioned that to her surprise, as she prayed, God encouraged her to forgive her self inflicted hurts as well as the ways she’d hurt others and she sensed Him asking her to forgive herself rather than forgiving others. It made me curious, but I have not tried her practice.
When brought low, I practice lament. At times, I cry until the tears won’t come, my contacts dry up, my eyes are puffy, and I feel release.
I practice the art of mindful makeup. With my concealer, I draw a cross on my forehead and daily I remind myself that no matter what, I am ashes bearing His image, and in my weakness, He is strong.
I sing while I work. I work somewhat in isolation as a music ministry assistant, so I can sing and only God hears. Perfect.
I pray as I go — never alone.
I listen.
The other day, in my morning devotional, the writer suggests us readers to list answered prayers. I write it on a sticky note, “What prayers has God answered for you?” I post it on my work printer too afraid to ask God to show me, for fear that the list will be as short as I believe it to be. In the valley, faith is weak.
As much as we love the view from the mountaintop, Jesus must really, really love the view from the valley. The mountaintop is where God’s glory and magnificence shines, but the valley is where no one wants to be. The valley looks all shadows and is a nice cool breeze in the warm summer’s heat. In winter, though, you just can’t get warm cause the sun’s behind the mountains shining for someone else and only two minutes of the day for you. The valley is, itself, a type of winter. The view’s all from the bottom, grandeur somewhere over there.
The work of the valley is like Nightbirde’s bathroom floor altar. Jesus’s done a lot of soul healing in me, and yet, I still found myself having a trauma response to an unexpected situation I found myself in. Jesus is not abusive. He’s the lifter of our heads. But I still sensed Him telling me to pick myself up and submit again. Definitely a pride killer. Definitely a “go lower” moment that I would not advise in all times for others. But somehow I was to give thanks for even a moment to lament. Loving your enemies put God on a Cross. This is a lesson I didn’t know it was time for me to learn.
When brought low, there is a type of coziness, hygge vibe, when you accept the valley’s work in you. You slow. You hibernate, and then you winter until it’s time to come out and shine in the sun again.
It’s the mountaintop where you see the glory and even bask in its warmth. There you see the beauty of God. But, it’s in the valley where you are known. Here God refines you, makes you, holds you and knows you, rocks and cuddles you like a swaddling babe, even when you feel alone. You are known and hopefully you are drawn near. The valley is where you find the face of God – the tenderness in His eyes, the tearstained cheeks, the dimpled smile, the wrinkles of wisdom, the joy of looking at you, His beloved child, whom He gently forms through the tears and the pain.
I may always be misunderstood. Even the ones closest to me may only know me an inch. Only 10’s of people may read this blog post, but He’ll know me all the way. For to be known is to be loved, and indeed, I am. When brought low, I gaze at His face found only in the valley until I know Him all the way too.
When brought low, on our knees, and lower still, we look into the mirror of God and marvel. We are known, and we’ve found home.
I can totally relate to this. In February a sight threatening autoimmune disease diagnosis, the elderly parent caregiving responsibilities intensifying each month with cruel push back at times from a parent with dementia. Words hurt even when they come from the mouth of an unhealthy mind. Yet my biggest blessing has been learning to give up my need to be understood. Knowing that I am fully known and understood by my perfect, good father has become my comfort. I’m not good at being disciplined in reading my Bible or praying in seasons of being brought low yet He speaks to me whenever I seek Him. He doesn’t withhold due to my unfaithfulness. His grace is greater. It’s in this season that I experience this most. Keep writing, my friend, for maybe your reflections are only meant for me…..
I love this beautiful reminder – that He speaks to us whenever we seek Him even if we are undisciplined, that He does not withhold Himself when we feel unfaithful. Thank you for the encouragement to keep writing. God too has reminded me to do so. Thanks for leaving me a comment!
Ah! Some of your best spiritual formation work, my friend! Isn’t it kind of our friend, Jesus, to give us the tools to encourage others even while we’re in the valley.
Thanks for the encouragement and reminding me of Truth.
Thank you, Stacy! That’s a really beautiful thought – that He gives us work to do even when we are in the valley. I’m glad He used this to encourage you!
Hey Jamie, thank you for this sweet encouragement. I empathize with so much of what you share here. Recently, I felt God prompt me to consider the flowers blooming and just how long it took for those blooms to show up: when for so long there was so much growing but in the secret and hidden, through harsh snow, ice and even hail, with very little tending…but all along it was growing and growing to produce that beautiful bloom. Every bit matters. I have missed your writing. Speaks to my heart, always has. Keep writing. Much love from across the oceans.
“He’ll know me all the way”😭 so beautiful, Jamie. Thank you.