I’ve been thinking a lot of Heaven lately. Maybe it’s the turning of the harsh Indiana winter into a soft spring and warm summer and the fresh blossoms swaying in the breeze that transports my senses to the celestial paradise. Maybe it’s because I had a lot of time to sit by the ocean last week while on vacation and think about what our final resting place will be like. Maybe it’s because the week before vacation was a marking day in my healing journey—May 18th my unborn baby, Evie Grace, would have turned one year. Whatever the reason, the peaceful pace of vacation had my brain spinning with what life’s like on the other side.
I realized in that moment how important the Bible has been to my life—especially in the last eighteen months. It has been the the anchor of truth for my soul in the swirling squall of tragedy. The Bible has been a sweet, refreshing drink to my parched soul. I truly want my congregation (and you) to form a LOVE for, an OBSESSION with, and even an ADDICTION to God’s Word.
It was our senior year of college (Amanda completed her two year degree), and we were graduating on the SAME DAY (with our awesome brother James)! In the week leading up to graduation, Amanda and I decided we needed a haircut. We walked into the salon, and the lady at the front desk asked if we were twins. (We get this a lot).
I’m confident one of the most instrumental components to a healing plan is rest. I know this seems obvious but you’d be surprised how few sufferers of tragedy and trauma actually practice rest. Over the last eighteen months I’ve struggled with resting.
I wonder if you’ve ever felt the same way. Whether you have or haven’t lost someone close to you, you've probably known someone who has. You’ve probably been faced with a moment like this. Perhaps not having to speak publicly to a group of grieving folks, but maybe you’ve walked across a room to console someone face-to-face and with each step searched for the words to say that could bring some kind of comfort, answers, and reasoning for their pain.