Tag: jesus

A Beautiful and Broken Union

- dannalundstrom
I was standing at my kitchen sink crying and smiling this morning as I washed my grandmother’s Christmas Rose, China, and some of my mom’s serving pieces that I now own. I noticed the strong incongruence in my soul. There I stood, looking out at the frigid, yet beautiful, weather on the eve of such a glorious day, a broken heart full of broken pictures as the ballad of my soul played its hymn; this is not how it is supposed to be. But then there was an accompanying melody of, thank you, Jesus, for how it was. Imperfect moments, incomplete holidays accompanied by irreplaceable memories; both beauty and brokenness reigned there in the ordinary, yet extraordinary moment at my kitchen window.
This year, I have followed countless stories of friends, family, and strangers near and far as they have navigated some of the most ruthless roads. Their stories tell of the same sentiment, hurting but not deprived of hope. Their paths are oxymorons, and the perplexing weight of that juxtaposition is heavy. Fractured people, fractured countries, a fractured world, but all encapsulated by a forever kind of grace that guides us through the weary when we cannot feel or see her presence. It is not supposed to be this way, but it is. It is hard but not absent of holy!
A couple of Christmases ago, as I was sitting in a Christmas Eve service singing Silent Night while lighting the candles. God showed me a picture. For the dormant candles to be kindled, the light from our neighbor must remain upright and firm, while the one receiving the light must bend, lean, and become vulnerable, to be ignited. At times we are the beacons, and at times we are the broken. We each have light to give and light to receive, but the cycle cannot be sustained without both the shattering and the shining of souls.
The examples of the ever-present and unchanging reality, the union of beauty and brokenness, are more pervasive than I can list. They are present in every moment and every memory, our tears, our triumphs, our pain and passions, our struggles, and our strengths. Where there is beauty, there will always be brokenness, and it was that way from the beginning.
I am thankful that The Son of God, The King of the world, was born in a dirty stable and laid in a messy manger. The Light of the world, God’s most perfect gift, a Savior for the world, entered this life, and surrounding His arrival was beautiful and broken. Broken circumstances, broken parents, broken leaders, broken countries, and broken plans were the backdrops that set the stage for the most handsome inheritance the world would ever know. It reminds and comforts me when life is not congruent with my heart; it remains in the care of my Savior’s hands. More often than not, it is a fight to remember, and that is alright as long as the fight goes on.
Many of you are experiencing the poverty of loss, illness, and other difficult circumstances this Christmas Eve. I pray you find strength from the life of a baby born into bankrupt surroundings, who suffered among both the sick and the “sufficient” so that He may bring the beauty of His perfect light to mingle among the broken parts of our lives. Jesus, give us eyes to see your grace flowing through our moments of grief, and may that console, sustain, and encourage us through mangled moments as we journey Home.
Merry Christmas, friends!

A Hard and Holy Christmas

- dannalundstrom 2 Comments

A Hard and Holy Christmas

I wish for life to be like a Hallmark movie where love and contentment always win. The ending is tidy and sealed in a pretty package accentuated with a red bow, but that is entertainment and far removed from reality. These movies lead me off course every year around the holidays. They provide a magical escape from the tender truths that are indigenous to what many profess to be the happiest time of the year. There is a not-so-jolly presence that we cannot escape, though. Suffering. The Christmas season is prone to hold a magnifying glass up to an unfair world.

The shattered fragments of people’s pain wear many faces, hold no prejudices, and do not adhere to calendars or circumstances. Maybe the agony shows up in the loss of health, a job, a relationship; a loved one, or the incredible heartache that settles in when we hear someone has to bury their child. Broken people, broken families, broken worlds; may all present differently, but fractured hearts are inherent to us all. The holidays, as merry and bright as they are for many, are equally melancholy for others.

Life is incongruent with my desire for everyone to be happy, but I have learned this difficult lesson: happiness is a circumstantial frailty, not a gospel actuality. Without the assurance of our eternal inheritance, we stand here poor, hopeless, and lost.

Hope is hard and holy, yet both were the backdrop for the birth of our Savior. Nothing in this world lacks the melodic marriage of beauty and brutality. That is not easy, but when we focus on the tenants of the first, it fosters gratitude despite the latter.

In his last words, a 1700s French writer captured something very tragic yet significant. “And so I leave this world, where the heart must either break or turn to lead.” ~ Nicolas Chamfort

Sometimes our greatest challenge as we go about living in this world that is remarkable one moment and ruthless the next is continuing to engage. It is tempting to check out, but we are called to check-in. Numbing our hearts feels like safety, but it dims love and light in a world that desperately needs them. Is leaning into life straightforward in our climate of unparalleled death, destruction, and hatred? No, it is not effortless, but it is essential.

I know many of you are facing unspeakable burdens. My heart aches for you. Right now, pressing in may feel overwhelming. That is understandable. Take the next smallest step in the right direction, and your stamina will increase over time if you keep your hand to the plow. We, unfortunately, have to drink from the cup of hurt before we can be quenched by the hand of The Healer; but God will not forsake His children. One way He manifests himself is through community. I pray wherever you find yourself today, the love of those around you warms, even if just slightly, the weeping heart inside you. Your internal song may never be the same, but I know your soul will sing again. The lessons grief teaches will remain with you and be the balm for the next hurting heart that crosses your path. At the intersection of someone else’s pain, yours will find purpose, and that makes all the difference!

He Already Knew

- dannalundstrom
Last week I was apologizing to a friend, and she kindly said to me, “I had my mind made up about you a long time ago.” Those words gently landed on my heart leaving an imprint that I don’t think I will soon forget. They have clothed my mind like a warm hug every day since.This morning when I walked out onto my porch, I was marveling at the beautiful sky, and those words softly sang to me again, I had my mind made up about you a long time ago. I think God must want us, His children, to know that. No matter how far we fall, where we stray, how dark the depression or crushing the anxiety; God already knew, and He loves us anyway. ‪Abba‬ Father knew every word of our story because His hands authored each plot, twist, turn, comma, period and question mark. Through the highs and the lows, our sins and sufferings, redemption and renewal God was there; He saw us and had His mind made up.For a long time I was a passively, complacent child, but sometimes great loss pushes us out of our places of unexamined comfort to positions of challenging questions. Questions force me to dig deeper, searching for answers, understanding, and acceptance. But God’s ways are not predicated on my approval, rather His assurance.

Some questions, especially spiritual ones, have no clear answers and the Bible tells me that in Deuteronomy 29:29~ “The secret things belong to the LORD our God…God does not want or expect me to understand everything. He asks that I trust His faithfulness not my feelings. Still, God knows that like the persistent child I am, I will circle back to wrestling and striving to comprehend that which is not for me to realize. Because He made up His mind about me a long time ago, despite it all, He still calls me His beloved.

Sometimes in the midst of life’s chaos, one of my biggest challenges is as one writer put it, “living loved.” I think one key to “loved living” is to remember that God made His mind up a long time ago, and I have little power to make myself unloveable to Him. The same is true for you, friend. May we live loved today-God’s Day.

Grace and Grief

- dannalundstrom

Disrupted dreams. How often does life turn out different than our embellished expectations? It is a steep road to navigate when we are holding the shattered pieces of our “pretty” pictures in the palms of our bleeding hands. Life is unfair and not partial to my dreams. I have been struggling lately with the temptation to shut down. Close the door. Close it tight on the hope that offers me the glorious burden of present realization versus rejection.

There is only one hope that stands eternal, and that is not the one that resides in this world built around unsafe scenarios. It is a future hope, secured by the gift of everlasting life obtained by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ. But, here, now, I battle to not close myself off to my desires while striking a balance of preventing rainbows from becoming requirements. It is an unpredictable place to be where peace becomes precarious.

The challenge is leaning into life with open hands softly cupped around pliant pages of immaculate intentions.

It. Is. Hard. I am stubborn, born of flesh that efficiently demands fruition. My hands are sticky. Like the freshly spun strands of spider silk, arrangements cling to me, and I wrestle to break free. But when I am standing amidst the shards of well-crafted storylines, reality reminds me that it is a harsh and unforgiving rival. And so I come to a crossroads where I peer at the scandalous hand of hope or the hostile hike of desensitizing from a world that supplies both grace and grief.

Father, you know me and all my intricacies. Remind me that you knitted me together, every fiber when the shame of a not-all-together life creeps in. Help me to open my hands and my heart so that my mind is mailable to your purposes, not my pursuits. There is nothing in me that is strong, good or steadfast except You. When I remember that truth, I no longer answer to the copious condemnation that shadows me. I had not envisioned life or an impending empty nest without the presence of my mom. I am moment by moment dependant on you to whisper that you are with me and there will be mana for every step but only available for the moment in which I stand. The future lends anxiety. Please help me to be an occupant of the present. Remnants of regret litter the past. Flood my heart and mind with the memories of precious times. This day, this moment is where You meet me, and although there is future grace, I was never permitted to stray there. Enable me to stand in the two faces of hope; free to smile, free to laugh, live and love not because I deserve it, but because You secured it.

To hide is not to honor You. To thrive is a testimony to You. May I remember that all the days of my life.

Sincerely, a daughter who desperately needs and loves You.

Within this shadow box is a special and tangible reminder of my beautiful mom. I will treasure it forever. 

Grief, A Ruthless Friend

- dannalundstrom
body of water during golden hour

It is incredible how the mind defaults into a self-defense posture one minute, only to fail me the next. The reality of grief is always there, lurking, but the full realization, while it may have reached my head, has not settled in the depths of my heart.

It has been said that is the longest distance, head to heart, and I know it to be right, on this dirt road that many are asked to walk in this life. No mileage signs signal an end, only hazard ahead around each bend.

Grief is a ruthless friend, but one that every loss must respect. He allows me to forget momentarily, then quickly be disheartened by the raw reality that is waiting on the other side of remembrance.

Countless times I reach for my phone to call her. There are so many things I want her to know. I want her to share my highs and lows and all the spaces in between; after all, that is the way a mama’s love goes. They say time heals all wounds, but I do not believe that is true. Some aches seem I will never be able to bid adieu. And if I am honest, never would I want to.

My mind is deceiving me, as it is prone to do. Feelings charade as facts, leaving me vacillating between pain and perseverance. The later must win in the end, but right now the two of them are stumbling hand in hand. To laugh, to live to carry on is to betray the loss, my disloyal thoughts deceptively whisper. On a head level, I know that is fraudulent and untrue. Maybe if I remind myself enough times, my heart will catch up too. For now, I am grappling for the grace to journey straight through the thick and heavy dew.

People are so kind and well-intended; they say do this, or that, believe this or that, and these things you must do. The problem is there is no universal recipe for the profound loss that accompanies the days I must filter through.

And my faith, it feels weak, that is undoubtedly true, but it is not up to me, for it was a gift secured by a Savior in which I had nothing to do. So I struggle, limping and tracked by the tears, as I walk the best I can, crying out and fighting to trust the only Man who will see me through. I thank Him, then question Him. I wrestle with Him and rest in Him, as all wounded warriors do. I am a paradox of emotions, The Psalms living and breathing as they once were for the writers overcome by grief so blue.

Trauma, the place I am traveling through, someday to be ousted by thankfulness-a destination I sometimes see but am not yet fully submitted to; for it is a harbor I am fighting my way towards when the anointed time is due.

A Tangible Gift From The Lord

- dannalundstrom

This is one of those stories that must be told; a God story about His tender and personal faithfulness to me, His daughter, in the midst of great sorrow.

Yesterday morning, (last Saturday, 09/01), was the second worst morning of my life, and that same afternoon I had to get in a car and head to the airport to come home only hours after laying on my mom sobbing my eyes out. During the entire drive to Houston Hobby Airport I was praying, Lord, please let me sit next to someone kind on the airplane who will be empathetic and not bothered by my tears. I texted three friends and asked them to pray for that as well.

I made it to my gate and found a corner to sit in trying to go unnoticed as I was visibly grieving. After a few minutes I looked up and I could not believe my eyes. My precious friend, Monica, who is in my Wednesday morning Bible study was walking up to my gate. I got up and ran to her. She knew my situation, but she was equally shocked to see me as I was her. She thought I was in Dallas and I had no idea she would be in Houston. As it turned out she was in Houston for the night to see her daughter dance at the Ole Miss/Texas Tech football game that was being played in Houston. Our eyes met and I grabbed her, I am not sure who was more confused.

This was one of the most chilling, in a good way, God winks I have ever experienced.

A direct, personal and tangible gift from The Lord.

We were able to sit together on the plane and she kept me mostly distracted and calm. I will never forget how God not only honored my need but in such a sweet way by sending someone who was already praying for me and that I knew and loved. In the midst of my tears and heartache a gift I will never forget walking toward me and reminding me God is always going before me. He is working things out on my behalf and planting priceless pearls of peace to intersect my pain. And, I would also like to think my mama had a little something to do with it as well.

The Freedom of Self-Forgiveness

- dannalundstrom

Dear friend,

Do you need to forgive yourself for a mistake but you cannot seem to find the freedom to do so despite your aching desire? If God has forgiven you and me, and He should be the only person that matters, why is it so hard for us to do?
I think sometimes it is easier for me to feel shame or flagrant self-pity, which are both convincing imposters of comfort. Other times I am prone to unconsciously acquiesce to the faulty theology that God does not freely forgive me when I repent and ask for forgiveness.

My unbelief leads me to trust it comes when I earn it when I have worked hard enough when I have paid what I deem to be a reasonable penalty when I have beat myself up enough and more self-imposed modes of retribution, none of which ever are enough. Notice the word; I was used five times in the preceding sentence. Therein lies my problem. I maximize my faulty resourcefulness and minimize my Savior’s free reward. God’s love and forgiveness never change, my remembrance to rest in that truth does.

I love today’s wisdom from Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest: “The message of the prophets is that although they have forsaken God, it has not altered God. The Apostle Paul emphasizes the same truth that God remains God even when we are unfaithful (see 2 Timothy 2:13). Never interpret God as changing with our changes. He never does; there is no variableness in Him.”

Isaiah 30:15 is critical for me to turn towards and commit to daily, repeating it to myself, sometimes out loud, to “train my brain” to default there instead of destructing elsewhere. It says: For thus the Lord GOD, the Holy One of Israel, has said: “In repentance and rest you will be saved, In quietness and trust is your strength.”
One parallel verse is Isaiah 45:22 ~ Turn to Me and be saved, all the ends of the earth; for I am God, and there is no other. Those two verses, along with multitudes of others are like the cover of a shady tree on a sweltering day. So often the help I need is readily available to me, I am just slow to remember it as my first line of defense instead of my last lane of desperation.  

God’s light is always on.

You are loved.

The Light

- dannalundstrom

It appears there are two, but there are four.

Darkness skews our vision.

Deceives us.

Lies.

It masks reality.

When it feels like there is only darkness around you and before you, remember the light is always behind you.

Shining.

Guiding.

Supporting.

Lighting the way.

Leading to paths of rest, redemption and righteousness.

Don’t give up.

The darkness, no matter how deceptive it is, will never extinguish the hope that is exclusive to the Light.

Leave Your Fear At The Door And Bring Facts To The Table

- dannalundstrom
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This is the truth.  We have to trade in our comfort for connection otherwise our relationships are superficial at best.  No one wins in a relationship that is not marked by transparency.
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We are all more alike than we are different.  Vulnerability sets captives free, us and the person or individuals sharing.
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Me too.  I understand.  I have been there.  I struggle with that too.  These are some of the most life-giving words, we can extend to others.
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And if we do not identify with their particular struggle, a clear understanding that we ourselves are flawed and in need of a Rescuer allows us to listen to the hurting with humility and lend compassion in the presence of another’s cross.
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I have many battles I face day to day, some old and others new.  Sometimes it is just as simple yet as difficult as staying in the present and managing my mind from straying off to toxic thoughts.  Every time I need to give my obstacles to The Lord, and at points, the sheer weight of their nature requires that I also enlist a trusted friend.
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Again and again, I have sat before a friend, fenced in by fear and stained with shame.  And you know what?  When I choose the right confidant, I always leave a little freer.
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An integral part of being free is leaving fear at the door and bringing facts clothed in faith to the table.
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Dr. Larry Crabb acknowledges that we never arrive in this life, but as followers of Christ, we are inching more and more, day by day towards Him.
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Photo credit to Life Church, Oklahoma.

Standing In The Storm

- dannalundstrom

To be alive is to know pain and heartache. Life gives us many trials, and often they are more significant than our mind and bodies can endure. If we spend too much time looking at the storms, we will drown. We do have to acknowledge them, and sometimes even stand in the very vortex of them, but we do not have to be swallowed up by them. We can choose to fix our attention on something higher.

As an ice skater must set her sight on an unchanging, reliable point when she is spinning to maintain stability; we too must set our eyes on a never-changing rock that anchors us amidst the battering waves of life’s adversity. It is where we fix our gaze that is the determining factor for our level of peace.

Sometimes if we are honest, there can be comfort in the storms, and we find it much easier to reside there.

Impostures thrive in darkness.

We must fight to keep our eyes locked on The Light. Fight for eternal not earthly sight, friends.

Our vision shapes our perspective and our perspective, our thoughts. It is so crucial that we are good managers of our minds, for as the mind regards, the man responds.

For the things we see now will soon be gone, but the things we cannot see will last forever. ~2 Corinthians 4:18

This hope is a secure and trustworthy anchor for our souls. ~ Hebrews 6:19