North to the Future
Kachemak Bay—Homer, Alaska
“Pour into me the brightness of your daybreak! Pour into me your rays of revelation-truth! Let them comfort and gently lead me onto the shining path, showing the way into your burning presence, into your many sanctuaries of holiness. Then I will come closer to your very altar until I come before you, the God of my ecstatic joy! I will praise you with the harp that plays in my heart to you, my God, my magnificent God! Then I will say to my soul, “Don’t be discouraged; don’t be disturbed, for I fully expect my Savior-God to break through for me. Then I’ll have plenty of reasons to praise him all over again.” Yes, he is my saving grace!” –Psalm 43:3-5 (TPT)
When Comfort Speaks
I don’t know the precise moment when it came, but I heard it when it did. It was a memory by then. More specifically, a collection of memories revealing an experience so uniquely and exquisitely designed that I still shake my head in wonder as I ponder it. I don’t think we always recognize the sacred spaces we’ve occupied and the holy moments we’ve experienced until we are no longer there, but thankfully, a heart that has been held by the hands of God is permanently marked with His fingerprints, and it remembers.
As I consider the last year, I see now the answer to a prayer I prayed eighteen months ago…to know the Wonder of Jesus. At the time the words of Philippians 3:10-16 had been burning in my heart for days, with one line resonating in my spirit:
“And I continually long to know the wonders of Jesus and to experience the overflowing power of his resurrection working in me…” Philippians 3:10a (TPT)
Of course, I wasn’t sure of what I was requesting. By definition, wonder holds an element of mystery…something beautiful, yet unfamiliar. I just knew it would be good, whatever He wanted me to know. After so long a time, one thing is becoming certain about this journey I’ve been on with Jesus. As I discover more about Him, I also discover more about myself. To walk with Jesus is to accept the divine invitation into a close relationship of exchange with Him, and to become “His own.”
Over the last few years, I have released many things I would rather have kept, quietly bearing the losses, like a weighted shroud wrapped around my shoulders. It has been one of the most painful seasons of my entire life. Please hear my heart as I share. My intention is not to put the focus on ME, but to reveal what my experiences are teaching me about the heart of God and His desires for us.
I am learning that mental and emotional suffering that have resulted from losses of any kind are as real and deeply felt as any physical pain. In a word, it’s called grief. The struggle is that most of us don’t recognize grief for what it is, and even when we do, we don’t know what to do with it. We only know it doesn’t feel good, so most of us will either pretend it isn’t there at all, try to numb it in some way or resign ourselves to carrying the anguish with us for the rest of our lives.
That last option is where I was early last year. I think it’s my tendency most of the time, actually. But none of these options reveals the heart of the Father for us when we are grieving.
It seems counterintuitive to expect to discover the wonders of Jesus when we are hurting. It does to me, anyway. Understandably then, I had few expectations, if any, when I headed north to Alaska. I’d made the decision to go in January of 2022 when I received an email from Samaritan’s Feet about their mission trips for the year. I had planned to go to Greece with them in 2020, but the pandemic grounded us all. I did consider Greece again. It’s been a dream for a number of years so it made sense. Alaska was never a blip on the radar for me, (I can’t stand to be cold) but something about it seemed to align with the hiking, adventuring lifestyle I now enjoy, and I was drawn to it.
I had no idea I was walking into a Divine setup to experience one of the infinite wonders of Jesus in a way I could never have expected. His plan was masterful and intricate in every detail. Looking at it now, I see that I was already on the path even before I made the request eighteen months ago. The observations that I have made and processed through with the Holy Spirit on the hikes that I have narrated here for you in this blog, and the intimate moments I have experienced as I have spilled my heart out with tears of frustration and anguish before God have revealed Jesus to me in a way I had read in Scripture and heard quoted many times, yet never truly understood, and it’s this:
“For to us a Child is born, to us a Son is given; and the government shall be upon His shoulder, and His name shall be called Wonderful Counselor…” Isaiah 9:6a (AMPC)
…the Complete Jewish Version says: “Wonder of a Counselor.”
As I have begun to see Jesus in this light, I have realized how spiritually stoic I have always been. In every moment of loss and separation, whether by physical death, emotional severing or willing release, I have “endured hardness, as a good soldier of Jesus Christ” (2 Timothy 2:3)...because as a spiritual leader and mature Christian, that is the expectation. And I have been admired for it.
With that in mind, I cannot tell you how grateful I am for the wisdom and direction of one of my leaders last year around this time. I had led worship for two small gatherings she had organized over the two previous weekends when she approached me that Sunday morning. “You have poured out the last two weeks,” she said, “I want you to come and receive a prophetic blessing.” It was new to me and I didn’t fully understand what she meant, but I went in submission. (Like a good soldier.) What I heard provided me with a pinhole of light that has now become a brilliant revelation. I have ruminated often over the passage of Scripture that was shared with me (2 Corinthians 1:3-4) and seven of the words that were spoken to me that day: “I want to teach you My comfort.”
Since then I have been learning that grieving is not bad. It is part of being human. It is the natural response to loss. And for a time, it is healthy to stop and sit with it. While it is true that many people get stuck in a grief state, I am now aware that I have been the opposite. In my desire to keep moving forward in this burning pursuit of God’s heart, I have consistently bypassed any and every rest area where God has desired to provide His comfort on the journey. Maybe that’s you, too?
Now that I have surrendered to the practical application of the lesson, (well mostly…wink) Isaiah 61 has been His resting place of choice for me. It is a beautiful passage of prophetic revelation given to Isaiah about the Messiah hundreds of years before He came. Jesus entered the synagogue in Nazareth and read the first two verses of it to reveal Himself when He began His public ministry…and many of us are familiar with the KJV translation of the second half of verse three. You know the one: “to give them beauty for ashes, the oil of joy for mourning, the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness…” But it’s that phrase sandwiched in between that has absolutely WRECKED that “just keep it moving” train of thought that I have been on most of my life. It’s simply this:
“To comfort those who mourn in Zion…”
I’ve lived enough life that I definitely feel like I understand what it means to mourn, but it was a statement made by my son that opened my understanding more fully to what it means to be comforted. I had been sharing some of my realizations regarding grief and the Holy Spirit’s desire to teach me comfort when Dakota said: “You know what I think?” I could sense the Holy Spirit’s nudging as he continued: “I think comfort is the seed of a peace you don’t have yet.” It pierced my heart like an arrow finding its target! Everything in me knew it was true, but I wanted to see it in Scripture. Off and on for weeks after that I meditated on it, asking the Holy Spirit to show me. It’s great to have a revelation, but it is the Word that gives it credence and gives us a place to stand during our struggles.
And it was right there in Isaiah 61:3 all along. The King James version uses the word appoint. Other translations use give to, grant consolation, provide for, OR comfort. In any case, the Hebrew word used is sum. It has several meanings, one of which is to place a plant, and it would seem to align with the message of Isaiah 61.
See, there’s a bigger picture in this passage. There’s an intention for the comfort and exchange that Christ wants provide:
“to grant to those who mourn in Zion—to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes,the oil of gladness instead of mourning,the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that he may be glorified.” (Isaiah 61:3 ESV-emphasis mine)
When we experience losses in our lives, and the grief floods in, feelings of peace can be hard to come by. Our hearts and minds are unsettled and in pain when we grieve, and we just want it to stop. We have lots of questions but very few, if any, answers. I’ve asked plenty of questions in those moments. Comfort does not change the loss or answer all of the questions, but it does give us hope, encouragement, and a safe place to move through our grief. Comfort reveals the possibility of glory beyond, and dare I say, perhaps even during our grieving.
I was desperately missing my life as I had known it for so long when I stepped off that plane in Alaska, but the Comforter was waiting for me when I arrived. He was there in the majesty of every new landscape that took my breath away. He was there in the delight of discovering a lake to pray and worship and journal by in the early mornings before the rest of the Team was stirring. He was there in the provision of an old electric keyboard, where, though I don’t really play keyboard, I could release in music what my heart could not find the words to say in my grief. He was there in those sacred moments of koinonia with my Team…people I’d never met…as we shared the deepest tragedies of our lives and the testimonies of God’s faithfulness in it all.
In everything, He was there.
Though I was unaware at the time, as I washed the feet of the aged, heard their stories and prayed for them, the seeds of comfort were being planted both in them AND in me. I saw hope for the future as I listened to the students at Alaska Christian College share their dreams to return to their villages and serve them once they completed their studies. Many of them had experienced their own losses and hardships, and yet were moving through and beyond them with vision and intention to be planted by the Lord for His glory as they serve their communities.
As I have pondered my experiences in Alaska, I see the evidence that Comfort was and IS the seed of a peace I don’t have yet! It is as I said when I began, I don’t know exactly when it came, but I heard the evidence of it…in my own voice I heard it…when it did.
It was three days before we left Alaska to come home. Our team had finished our multiple days of ministry, and we were on our way to Homer to enjoy an evening of amazing views, good food and some much needed rest. I’m not really into vlogging, but I’d done a few videos of what I was experiencing that day to send to my daughter and my friends. Weeks later, when I watched them again, I heard the quiet delight and joy mingled with peace in my narration as I shared the beauty of the landscapes and my experiences in the moment. And I suddenly realized that although every pang of grief was not gone and I was not fully at peace with what had happened, I had indeed been walking with and being comforted by Jesus through the Holy Spirit. He had known all of the things that would bring me joy and encouragement and laid them along every path with great Love and deep intention.
On the last evening Team Alaska spent together I had been puzzled when both of our leaders had commented on the comfort that they felt when I played guitar and sang as our time was drawing to a close. How could I, who had been in great need of comfort and yet resisting it, be the means of comfort for anyone else?
I see now that while I was in Alaska, I was living in the Isaiah 61 comfort exchange. In all of those things He planned for me, He was taking the ashes of things that would never be the same again and crowning me instead, with identity as His, wherever I am. Throughout our serving together, He was taking my heart in mourning and anointing it with the oil of His joy. And in those final moments of worship, He was exchanging that shroud of heaviness I was carrying for His garment of praise. Sometimes what we need when we are grieving is simply the comforting presence of another with us. And that’s Who He is. The Divine With. The Wonder of a Counselor.
Once I returned home I discovered that Alaska’s motto is “North to the Future.” I cannot think of a more appropriate way to describe the transition from a season of grieving.
I don’t know that we ever “get over” the losses in our lives. Honestly, there are some people and experiences that I never want to forget. Still, we can receive His comfort, “move through” our grief and fasten our hearts to the future, however strange and different it may seem, knowing that He will always be there.
And now, I have come full circle to the verse that began the journey last year:
“All praises belong to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. For he is the Father of tender mercy and the God of endless comfort. He always comes alongside us to comfort us in every suffering so that we can come alongside those who are in any painful trial. We can bring them this same comfort that God has poured out upon us.” –2 Corinthians 1:3-4 (TPT)
We are all invited to embrace the comfort of Jesus and all that He is. As we experience grief and suffering, if we learn to exchange what we cannot always keep for the things we cannot lose, He will plant the seeds of His comfort within us. As they grow, we will become more firmly planted and rooted in Him…”the planting of the Lord that He may be glorified.” Once we receive His comfort, we can offer it to others who are grieving.
Sitting here, my heart covered in His fingerprints, the seeds of comfort are still growing from my time away with this Wonder of a Counselor. I am still shaking my head in wonder at the depth of His creativity in teaching me to rest and receive His comfort. Though everything is not as I wish it was, I can see and hear Him more clearly now as He takes my hand, draws me up from the ground and says “It’s time to move forward.” Rising and looking up with my spiritual eyes, I see hope and a future in His. Though at times He is silent, His Presence with me in the processing is what I really need. However He chooses to bring it next, I know that all will be well…when Comfort speaks.
North to the Future…(returning home)
“…And now we have run into his heart to hide ourselves in his faithfulness. This is where we find his strength and comfort, for he empowers us to seize what has already been established ahead of time—an unshakable hope!” –Hebrews 6:18b (TPT)
