Through smoke

She had tied the drawstring of her robe tight around her waist. Her linen pants hung loosely around her legs and were stuffed into the tops of her laced up boots of peace. Her cloak hung heavily on her shoulders, which was ironic since the armor that protected her vital organs felt remarkably light.

Picture her with me.

Truth sat low on her hips while righteousness covered her chest. Protected by her faithful shield, salvation upon her head, on the defensive with the glimmer of her sword, spirit. She was ready. She had trained, prepared and knew the battle would be intense. In fact, there had been many small battles leading up to this day.

She looked to her left and he stood there with her. Adorned with a matching uniform, he stood just a pace in front of her, prepared to take the worst of the blows, knowing that it was not only his calling but his duty as her protector, provider, prophet and priest. Yes, they would fight together but he was set over her. Not because she was inferior but because the goodness of the One who prepared this battle knew what He was doing.

A smile crept across her lips as she looked back out onto the hills in front of them. Battle is never easy, but after you've prepared for weeks and months and years when it's time to go, you can't help but be a bit eager.

Together, nearly in unison, they step into the war zone, knowing that it could last longer than they both have the energy or resolve to endure. However, they aren't relying on their own strength alone and they know this full and well. Emerging from the sky are cherubim, clothed in no armor at all but brandishing weapons that annihilate the enemy in one, swift stroke.

Rushing forward, metal clinks, blows are landed and they find little successes. Suddenly, the ground shakes, the sky grows dark. Smoke engulfs the battlefield. Disoriented and confused, they become separated in sight. She can hear him but the smoke burns her eyes with such pain that she must choose to close them for fear of losing her sight forever more.

She hears wailing and crying and listens intently to try to discern from which direction it coming, only to realize that it is from her own lips. Her heart is afraid and her voice betrays her by telling every enemy within earshot.

Trembling, she sinks to her knees and opens her eyes, desperately scanning the horizon. The smoke is so thick she cannot possibly see beyond her own arm,  much less into the distance. The stench of burning trash and excrement lingers in her nostrils.

"Help! Where are you? Help me, please."

The roar of battle has ceased but the smoke remains. She can no longer hear him or the One who gives the orders.

"This is it?" she thinks. "This is not the battle for which I trained. No! This wasn't in the plan at all. How did this happen? No! This cannot be it." Her heart pounds in her chest and fear overwhelms her.

The silence is now deafening.

She crawls across the field on her hands and knees hoping to find someone, anyone, who might give a clue as to what has happened. There are no signs of battle, no wayward shields or swords. No members of the enemy camp laying slain on the ground. Nothing but the smoke even suggests there's been a battle.

This. This ground shaking madness, this was not what she had prepared for at all. She hopes staying close to the ground will provide reprieve from the smoke but it is as thick and pungent down low as it is up high.

She crawls across rocks and sticks and through mud but no where does she find remnant or clues to anyone else on this field with her. Finally, FINALLY, she finds a small wall of stone. She believes she remembers this one. It's old, and frail, but she's seen it before. The familiarity of it relieves her, though she knows it will be of little use since once before it was crumbled. Resting her back upon it, she tries to find her bearings.

The enemy. He must be responsible for this. He has to be. He is sneaky and vicious and cares not who he kills. Surely he is on the other side of this short wall, prowling, waiting for her to expose herself so he can finish her off.

Then she realizes that she's not safe. No where is safe. Though the smoke is thick still in most places, it's beginning to rise. He will see her, someone will see her vulnerable, and finish what the enemy has started. With fervor and with trembling hands she grabs the stones around her and begins rebuilding the wall. Higher, higher, stronger, taller it grows. It curves around beside her and yet she continues. Creating her own little provision, she gathers the uneven, worn, battered stones that had previously been ripped down and she rebuilds what was once deemed unnecessary.

Once she has it far reaching enough around her she stops and tucks herself into its sanctuary. Now, behind the wall she built from the ruins, she is safe.  The enemy can't find her and once the smoke clears she can emerge on her own terms, sword drawn, and fight her way back to where she once was.

She waits. It is taking a long time for the smoke to rise. Shouldn't it have risen by now? Where did it come from anyway? This is not what she had trained for. She waits, she thinks, she tries to pray, but in vain.

And then it washes over her. He knew. The One, he knew. He knew this would be the battle all along. "How could you know and not prepare me?!," she cries. He knew and yet he did nothing to stop it, nothing to help her to know what to do in this scenario. She'd rehearsed and prepared for just about anything else but this. What is she to do now?

The One she trusted to train her, the One she trusted her life to, he knew. And somehow, somewhere amid all the preparations, he failed to train her for this. He knew, and he failed. Therefore she would fail, too. And he knew she would fail.

Her jaw set with anger and determination, she looks down at the armor upon her body. It is beaten and broken and flawed now. How is that possible? What battle has she fought? She doesn't remember any enemy blows because before she could really fight, her world was rocked. How can she be so heavily beaten up, for she was merely trying to survive.

Hold fast

Those were the words she said the Lord revealed to her as she prayed over what to share with us for the weekend. Hold fast.

And tonight, almost 3 years later, that weekend and those words were the ones that came immediately to mind when a dear friend told me to keep holding on.

It’s been a hard 2 years. Death, loss, grief, dreams that have seemed to dissipate, financial stress, adding a baby to our already crazy house, moving, it’s been an exhausting 2 years. Emotionally, physically, spiritually, mentally it has consumed me in all of those areas. There are days where there is very little left of the old me at all.

But I clung to the side of the mountain. The mountain that seemed to shake beneath me as the world I knew came crumbling down. Yes, over the loss of a girl but also the loss of our dreams. The loss of what we envisioned for our family and for our children. But I clung, though not well at times, because I knew of nothing else to do. My fingernails were bloody and hurting. My feet ever feeling for a ledge to find my footing. Somehow, over time, a ledge appeared. I’m not sure if it was provided for me or if my constant slipping made a rut so that a ledge had been formed. But I found one, either way. I gathered myself, decided it was time to begin climbing again, and I looked up just in time to see the mountain above me begin to crumble again.

Deceit. Deceit that has shaken me to my core. By people I’ve trusted, admired and held in high esteem my entire life. The breath of the enemy is hot on my neck and I cling, once again to the side of the cliff.

And tonight as I sat and shared with a dear friend the depths of the pain, she told me, “just hold on.”

“You shall fear the Lord your God. You shall serve him and hold fast to him and by his name you shall swear.” Deuteronomy 10:20 [emphasis mine]

Oh, I’ll swear all right. Don’t you worry.

Random dropping of swear words because, it just feels good dammit. Check. Check. Checkity, effing check.

“I almost fell off, you know?” I told her. “I was so close.”

“I know. But you didn’t. You held on. Just keep holding on." HOLD ON.

Beth Moore said that same thing to an arena full of women, eager to hear her speak. Some of the girls from my Bible study attended with me and that was her message, the one she said God gave her to speak over our specific group 3 years ago. Hold fast.

I’ll be honest. At the time it didn’t mean a lot to me, I mean, other than the obvious.

Heh. Sure. I can hold fast. Hold fast for what?

But on the drive home tonight it was those words that came screaming back into my brain. HOLD FAST JESSICA. Just hold fast. Help is on the way.

Help? What help? What’s taking so freaking long, anyway?

That weekend with Beth Moore I underlined another ‘hold fast’ in my Bible.

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful.” Hebrews 10:23 [emphasis mine]

Oh, I sure hope he who promised proves to be faithful. I sure hope so.

Those verses, that weekend.

Another friend helped me remember the date of that event. July 23-24, 2011. Exactly one year prior, to the day, that Paige died. I don’t believe in coincidences.

I’m weary. I’m afraid. I’m uncertain. But, with all that I have left, I hold fast.


—————

Side note: For those of you who know me in real life, this is a vulnerable place for me to be, out here on my blog. But after several people encouraged me to just write, I’m putting it out there. NOT because I desire to have you tell me how much you’re praying for me (though, thanks) or because I want to have a stop-and-chat in the hall at church on Sunday (please, just, no).

But, because there is no possible way that I’m the only one. There’s no way that I’m the only person going through this season. Someone else is clinging, with all they have. And you, dear one, are not alone. Let’s hold fast together, shall we? We don’t have to talk about it. We don’t have to hug or make it weird. Let’s just hold on together. Because, I’m certain, even though I’m scared as hell and I’m certainly confused beyond what I can understand, I’m certain that help really is on the way. It has to be. Hold fast with me, okay?

Beaver Family November 2012 Update

As most of you know, in July we lost a close family friend, Paige. When we sent out our September newsletter, our hopes were to take a Short Term trip (3 - 12 months) with Africa Inland Mission to Southern Kenya. (If you missed our September Newsletter, you can read it by clicking here.)

After reviewing our situation and looking at the logistics and the assignments for a Short Term trip, AIM’s recommendation was not in our favor for us to proceed with a short term trip. One of the main reason we decided to go on the field with an experienced organization like AIM is because they have experience and wisdom in sending missionaries.

With that in mind, we have chosen to go on “Hold” with Africa Inland Mission and our plans. Basically, that means that the money we’ve raised thus far will be put aside for us until we are ready to resume support raising and head to the field as full time missionaries, like we had previously planned. We wish we knew now what that time frame would be, but we don’t.

Our children (as well as us grown ups) are still grieving the loss of Paige daily. Several times a week one or more of the children will come to us with a memory of Paige. While we welcome this grieving process, it is also very painful and often, these memories turn into tears, questions and sorrow.

Since soon after our wedding, we have been very convicted about being good stewards of the things God has entrusted to us, especially our finances. God showed us early in our marriage the importance of handling our finances in a way that is pleasing to Him and most effective for His kingdom. We feel that if we chose to press forward with our 4 year term right now we would not be making wise and effective choices with the monetary support raised to put us on the field.

That’s the long of it. The short of it is this:

Our family needs time to heal.

While this is certainly not the choice we wanted to make we know that it is necessary. We know that being good stewards of the hearts of our children is of the utmost importance right now. Second to that is being good stewards with the funding God would provide. We know that if we went onto the field now, we would spend a significant portion of our time healing, grieving and just trying to survive. Very little ministry would be done and we know that would not be using the resources of the Lord wisely.

Even still, this is a hard newsletter to write. We want to be people who honor their word, do what they say they will do and live up to our end of the deal. However, we acknowledged a long time ago that our primary ministry is our family. Right now, our attention and our ministry needs to be solely focused on healing.

Thank you for walking this journey with us. We pray that you have seen in us a desperate desire to obey the Lord faithfully, trust Him in all things and that He alone is worthy of any sacrifice we could make.

If you would like to discuss the contents of this newsletter with us further, we welcome that. You can contact us at beaverbunch (at) gmail (dot )com or by simply replying to this newsletter.

May the Lord bless you richly as you have richly blessed us,

Luke and Jessica Beaver

Elizabeth, Lucas, Ashlee, Aaron, Olivia, Ella and Abigail

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to break down, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

(Ecclesiastes 3:1-4 ESV)