Words that kept me from drowning...

I could also have called this, "My wooden box in the frozen ocean."

Usually, I have a terrible time memorizing things, especially (ironically) Bible verses. If I do manage to commit a Bible verse to memory, I can rarely remember the address (where to find it in the Bible).

Then, June 25th happened. In the week that followed, one verse became branded on my mind. I think this was a grace-gift from God, giving me words that I sorely needed, and imprinting them on my mind so I would have them at all times.

Psalm 34:18
"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Those words, and the truth within them, were the things I clung to that kept me from going under. In the wild, seething chaos of agonizing loss, I held onto those words as fiercely as if they were my only hope for survival.

That recognition of the depth of my devastation, and the reassurance of the loving, attentive presence of God in the midst of it, kept me sane.

I had not known this verse before that week. It came to me, possibly through the devotional book I have been using, and the words blazed in the darkness.

The comfort and hope of them helped me to breathe. I felt myself gathered up and held, cradled close to the heart of my loving Father.

Other words that helped greatly, in those first weeks:

Isaiah 43:2a (the first half of the verse)- When you go through deep waters and great trouble, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown!

You will not drown. Those words spoke directly to how I felt, for a long time. Not long before, I had watched documentaries on the earthquake in the Indian Ocean in 2004, and on the explosion of Krakatoa in 1883, and the widespread destruction caused by both events. The image of floodwaters that I had, after Michael's death, was not of a swollen stream, but more like what I'd seen of those catastrophes: nightmare chaos, being overwhelmed by churning water spiked with debris and full of horrors.

You will not drown.

In the midst of shattering loss and paralyzing shock...you will not drown.

I thought through the reasonable options for response to our devastating loss. In the past, we had sometimes said to one another, "How do people make it through life without Jesus?" Now, I looked with calculating eyes at the ways some people cope without that hope and help- turning on one another and tearing one another to pieces, turning to alcohol or other means to dull the sharp edges of the pain, losing my grip on sanity, and suicide. No, I was not feeling suicidal, but I did suddenly understand, from the inside, how it could look like a welcome escape from terrible pain.

Those would all be quite reasonable responses to the depth of our suffering...but each would come at a dreadful cost to myself, and to the people I love best. After looking at the options with curiously detached calm, I turned away, took a deep breath, and said, "Okay, I will do this by clinging to Jesus." He was, quite literally, the only way I saw through this dark valley that would leave me (all of us) whole, together, and sane.

I have sometimes thought of Jesus, and the world condition, this way: the entire earth is consumed by a devastating flood. Jesus is the one guy with a life boat, going everywhere, to every person, leaning over the side, reaching out and saying, "Come, I will take you to safety. Grab my hand!"

When I was a little girl, I accepted His offer. I prayed the little prayer, asking Jesus to be my Savior. At the time, I didn't really understand what that meant. It was very real to me, but I had a shallow understanding of the decision I'd made. Being a Christian, belonging to Jesus, was a part of my identity from then on, and I grew in understanding what that meant, but I had trust issues. Some things in my life had given me a skewed and faulty view of who God is, of what His character really is. How can you love someone you don't trust? And how can you trust someone whom you don't really know? Over the decades, through various means, my understanding of who God really is deepened and grew. It became more clear and true.

All that time, I had been fighting God. I pictured myself like a toddler, sitting on the floor and clinging to a post, with my arms and legs wrapped tightly around it. God was tugging on my waist, urging me to let go, but I thrashed and fought and whined and screamed...afraid of where He wanted to take me...when all the time, He was just trying to hold me close and take me someplace wonderful. Disneyland. The Pacific Ocean. Monument Valley. Hawaii. Paris. Because I didn't really know Him, I did not trust that His plans and ideas for me were good. About ten years ago, I finally let go of the post. I finally stepped out in trembling trust, letting God have every part of my life, and cautiously willing to go where He wanted to take me in life.

What a wonderful surprise it was, to learn that God is not distant, calculating or impossible to please. He does not use my life as some sort of objectively interesting experiment. He does not have some secret, unattainable standard that I will forever fail to meet. (That's the whole point- we can't meet the standard of His holiness, so He gave us Jesus, who does it for us! What a relief!)

He does not sit back in condescending disapproval, watching me struggle and fall.
No. He loves me. Loves me!!!
He loves me with wild affection, boundless wisdom, and infinite patience.

Zephaniah 3:17 has become one of my favorite verses in the whole Bible:

"The Lord your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you; He will quiet you with His love. He will rejoice over you with singing."

That is how He loves me!

And in the weeks following Michael's death, I felt the reality of His love like never before.

Picture a tall, burly, bearded man, gentle in his power and strength. He sees a wounded little baby bunny, crouches down and gathers it into his large, callused hands. He cradles the bunny close to his heart, warming it and keeping it safe, murmuring reassurances in his deep, soft, rumbling voice.

That is how I felt, in the searing chaos of our horrible loss.
Cradled. Held. Protected. Carried. Loved.

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit."

Yes.

My heart was shattered, trampled and destroyed. My spirit was mangled and crushed.

But God, my infinitely wise, powerful, tender, compassionate Father, gently gathered up my broken, bleeding pieces. He held me close, and spoke quiet words of love over me. He soothed me and comforted me. He protected me, shielding me with His love. He infused me with strength far beyond my own. He grounded my mind with gentle sanity, quietly sure. He held me while I cried like I never have before. When my grief and loss pressed so heavily, suffocating me with their intensity, He lifted the weight from my chest and freed me to breathe. Every deep breath felt like a merciful gift.

He held me so close (The Lord is close to the brokenhearted).
He gave me strength and sanity and helped me to breathe (He saves those who are crushed in spirit).

In the agony of this terrible loss, I flung myself into His arms, and He caught me. I clung to Him, and He held me close, loving me in the midst of my pain.

I learned to understand, more deeply than ever before, that God is to be trusted.

When He is the only hope you have, you find that He truly is enough.

"The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." Psalm 34:18

...words that kept me from drowning.