Immanuel

I didn't know what to expect this morning, our last morning at Foundry Church after almost four rich years. I would have worn no mascara had I been more prepared, for by the end I had rivers of tears pouring down my neck. 

How He does it, I'll never know. 

Mighty God, Lord of Heaven's Armies, King of the World, come down to meet us. 

He met me. 

All the loose ends. All the deep roots. All the gaps. All I knew I needed and all I didn't know 'till it was streaming down my face.

It started all in pain.

I love this church. I have so many memories. The Lord has met me here. I don't ever want to leave this church.

As the worship began, I sat in that dark room and traced the losses.

To my left front, always, four years, Steve and Julie. Years of priceless and powerful small groups, raising our kids together, youth groups, dinners, phones calls, valleys, valleys, walking alongside others together, blessings. Church has been Steve and Julie, left front. I look at them and see His faithfulness. 

Down front, there's T. Always Teresa, like the coffee she serves every Sunday, every Sunday, I have counted on Teresa. She will be there. She will be praising. She will be walking impossible roads with the choice of joy, again and again and again. From that very first Sunday, from that very first small group, Teresa is making you laugh, lying about t-shirts, and looking to Jesus.

I trace the chairs. That was the chair I last sat with Dad, my last Sunday morning with Dad. That was the altar where he and I prayed and cried together. Three rows back was the chair I sat next to Matt, the lowest few Sundays of our lives, where we sat many weeks we could not stand. And everyone stood around us, for us. 

Over there, that was the chair I prayed for this person, and that, the chair where God met her, where he was restored. 

That empty chair....that was the chair next to Hannah I sat behind Sunday after Sunday after Sunday and prayed over for the Lord to fill. I reached out my hand toward that chair and I prayed for a godly, kind, smart and hilarious man to fill it for weeks and months and years. I bawled my head off in the darkness the first Sunday he sat there, unexpected red curls tumbling down his back, and the joy of answered prayer all over my precious friend's face. 

I looked over to the left wing, where Veronica clings to Henry's arm, and remember when I would just pray for that single dad, never knowing I was also praying for a dear and inspiring friend and a fantastic mom for his girls. Veronica and Henry remind me that following Jesus should not only be sweat and tears and blood, but also joy and laughter and passion.

I look at the empty chairs of Erin and Laura and the other faithful women my children LOVE...who have cared for Emma since day one in the nursery, who have shepherded Ben and Nora through SO MUCH, who have lovingly and patiently and joyfully discipled them without ceasing. Empty chairs, for they are in the next room with MY beloved little ones, for me, in my place.

I sat this morning, thinking of and praying for all the men and women who have come and gone, Eddie and Lauren, Hannah our grace, for the chairs beautiful friends not there today who have been and done and seen Jesus.

I go in my mind to one last chair, Pastor Elijah's, and I know, no doubt, that all of the ways the Lord has met me, met us at Foundry were made possible because that man was faithful to start it. To be it. To lead it. To stand for truth. To preach the hard and mighty Word. To create a spirit of truth and love. To persevere, to persevere, to persevere, when there were little glories, and most often, without. Elijah's faithfulness to seek and be faithful to the Lord, as Foundry's Shepherd, have made all the ways the Lord has met me, and hundreds, perhaps thousands of people...possible. It inspires me for this season as we pastor! I pray again, as I always will until she takes it, for that empty chair next to him, for the Lord to fill it with His good and perfect gift. 

I looked around this morning and counted my losses, mourning. 

As I cried, He tuned my ear back to the world around me, where the lyrics were being boldly sung: 

You deserve the praise
Worthy is Your name

It snapped me out of my graveyard attitude of despair and loss and transported me, immediately, to His throne room. Unexpectedly my hand flew to my mouth, unclean lips, for as I was murmuring through all the losses, are these not all My gifts? He asked. 

All these things I just circled, are they not all His gifts? 

Am I not rich? 

Has He not been good? 

Will He not still be?

He Deserves the Praise. 

Worthy Is His Name.

Sharon and Martin, my family, they sit beside me....Is that not the Lord and His goodness, sending me from afar family, at just the right Sunday, alongside? They worshipped next to me in Haiti, they worshipped next to me this morning at Foundry, they will worship next to me tonight at Wellspring, He has used them in the mighty gap left by my parents again and again and again and here they SAT this morning in those chairs. Who could have DONE that? I did not plan that, and they did not know. 

Are these Not all His Good Gifts?

hush, child. He deserves PRAISE.

Elijah gets up to lead us in prayer as I hold my breath in that sacred and loving chiding from the Lord, and my tears pour again as he leads us in a prayer I can honestly say I have NEVER been led in in a church in my life.

He asked us to bring another church, not Foundry, to mind, and he lead us in praying for that church to shine His light, for that church to have unity and joy and refreshing and faithfulness to sow many seeds for His kingdom. He lead us in praying blessing for that church in our hearts, and here I am, last Sunday at Foundry as I joyfully and fully and finally transition to Wellspring, and the Lord leads Elijah to corporately lead US in PRAYING for other churches. 

The Lord used my Foundry family to pray for my Wellspring family, used my Foundry family to pray without denomination, without comparison or jealously, for His Church....used Elijah to remind me that neither His Church nor His Faithfulness changes. As I have worked together with these brothers and sisters for His Kingdom Come...I continue. We carry on. We carry on together.

The service is closing, and I have the sacred privilege one last time to stand at the altar and pray over anyone who comes. 

I have cried such a steady hour I am parched, and as I stand there waiting for the last worship song to begin and for His church to come for prayer, the worship team begins to play Gratitude. Haven't played it in months and months.

If you haven't been here in Staey's mind and heart long, that song: Otis on the guitar in Steve and Julie's living room, was the gift of praise the Lord gave me in the hours of my darkest, dark nights of the soul. On repeat, those words many days kept me breathing in, breathing out, clinging to Him, choking out praise...

so I throw up my hands and praise you again and again, 

cause all that I have is a hallelujah, and I know it's not much

but I've nothing else fit for a king

just a heart singing Hallelujah

My last service. My last song. My last prayer at the Foundry altar. My thirsty soul.

Wasn't that the song they sang?

I couldn't stop laughing. 

The raccoon eyed woman at the altar this morning, laughing, that was me. 

When we came from Haiti, battered and weary, the Lord led us to Foundry, not because it was comfortable, but because God absolutely made it clear to us both that it was where He was calling us.

I like to think about how He calls us to use us. 

But He also calls us to LOVE US.

And He has LOVED me and was Faithful through the death of my mom, and dad. He has loved me and been faithful through Haiti. He was Faithful and loving through Wesley and He has been Faithful through Foundry. And already He is loving me and being faithful through Wellspring!

Like the day I first came, I left that beloved building today with nothing fit for our King but praise. 

And I will praise Him, again and again, because HE, beloved, is all that there is.

He was the only thing of worth in Haiti and of worth now. He is the only One who has not fallen short, who has not disappointed, who has not changed. He is all that there is, and all that there will be, and He SEES US.

Dear ones, He sees us. And THEN He COMES.  Immanuel, He CAME. And He Comes. He came today. 

He is the only thing worth having, the only thing worth holding onto when all else is stripped away, He is the only place to lay our heads, the only good and faithful one, the only place to lay our praise and trust that will not disappoint and will not fail.

In His unfathomable love, we can HAVE Him, God come. 

Our praise? It's not much.

But it miraculously fit for our King! 

In this, another one of life's transitions from His Faithfulness to His Faithfulness, I praise Him!

enough for this and more

After over a year of holding evening services in a graciously shared and beautiful church, Wellspring's build-out is finally almost complete, and we're moving and preparing and grateful and praying big, bold prayers. Not one Sunday has the church family who stepped away after the UMC vote been homeless, not one Sunday have they...and several months in...WE, been without a more than GOOD place to gather. Holy Trinity Anglican has been SO gracious and kind and prayerful and I'm so thankful. 

I have seen and been the church in so many places and countries...but never from this angle. So many pastors have we known and prayed for and come alongside...have we trained and loved and discipled and been discipled by...but never have I been one with the pastor, never have I been called to love and serve the church so directly, so intimately, so fully, so 100%.

We've always been in kingdom work...but never dedicated to His church, and that has been so incredibly all the things. Just as being a missionary in Haiti was SO incredibly sweet and hard and rich and stretching and full and lonely and faith-building and blessed, so has pastoring been. I have prayed and fasted this past year far more than I ever have in my life, and as we move into this new season of being a church with a place you don't have to put back afterwards...I am in awe of all He has done...and genuinely interested in what in the world He is going to do!

I knew Matt could do it, he had all the experience and giftings and God's help needed...but I've never gotten to hear him teach and preach 3-4 times a week. Man can preach! He can challenge, gracefully and with love and truth. He can shepherd in the Holy Spirit's conviction! He can bring and share deep honesty and true encouragement. He's always led the pastors, but never gotten to baptize the brothers, sit next to the deathbeds, join families in their darkest valleys...what a gift. 

"Pastor Matt ain't scared of anything, is he?" I often hear brothers and sisters mutter as they leave Sunday nights shaking their heads, and I suppose God much used Haiti for that. We've got one life and one work and one kingdom and one boss...and Matt's boldness inspires my own.

I'm also so inspired by the help the Lord has brought, in all corners, in His way, not ours.  Standing in the new church for our first Wednesday night this past week in the torrential rain, I peeked into the youth room and was blessed deeply by the leaders who love and know and pour into our girls so well. It is needed, and I never could have made that happen myself. Never could have rounded up the crew He sent us. Never could have hoped for the love and transparency and wisdom and grace they share. 

We are praying for a lot of things, but the Lord always reminds me to keep calm on the bulletins, on the details, on the gaps, on the weaknesses, on the songs, on the programs, and to seek FIRST His Kingdom. We are fasting and praying for men and women far from Him to come to see Him and know Him and LOVE Him. 

THAT makes church so exciting. Not a perfect body. Not a perfect building. Not a perfect calling. 

Just a perfect Savior.

I always said in Haiti we weren't saving anybody...just sharing with others what God was sharing with us, just beggars showing beggars where the Bread is!

What a gift to be there again, with Matt...just sharing with others what God graciously continues to share with us. Himself is all I've got worth giving.

He is deep and wide enough for all this and more, amen.

I find Him.

In so many places lately, I have found unexpected joy.

Adorable little patched together toddler sentences I'm sure I will never forget, except I can hardly remember one of Lily's. Hilarious conversations between Nora and Ben they have no idea are hilarious. Watching a dozen neighbor kiddos playing in the street before school, all overjoyed by the infernal time change providing an extra hour of early morning playtime before school.  

Matt making fragrant goulash from the Czech Republic and everyone enjoying it so much it was calm and happy and warm. Emma singing "Fa-la-la-la-LAAAA!" at the top of her lungs, Lily doing all the Sunday driving and chatting my ear off as she does, visiting with a homebound grandma and delighting over the memories that come with the wad of Kleenex up her sleeve, or with LadyJane, watching she and Emma snuggle.  Sitting with 20 true brothers and sisters Thursday nights, picking apart Revelation verse by verse, deeply nourished and thankful and heavenly perspective-d. 

Then yesterday in Pennsylvania, my little sister finally buried dad's ashes next to mom, finally sent me pictures of their tombstones together.  Today, Mom's birthday, 71-years old unable to be imagined by me...and suddenly in little unexpected places, I find sorrow. Next to dad's brand new tombstone, mom's looks worn and old. It has been so, so long. But it catches me off guard, somewhere between my throat and eyes. 

The neighbor goes out to breakfast this morning, and I see her mama come to play with thrilled grand babies for the morning, and it's so simple and sweet and forever unattainable I find myself standing at the window like a creeper with stupid tears running down my face. 

Dad's tombstone in the picture where I am not is solid and beautiful and final...and only feels sad. 

I do much better when I focus on their lives than when I look at monuments of their deaths.  

I take myself through the human comforts and conflicts and remind myself the deeper truths. They are finally together.  They have been together since the moment he closed his eyes, and peace and joy is fully theirs in HIM, not in each other.  They are finally at rest.  Dad has NOT been waiting on a stone for his rest, Mom has NOT been waiting on Dad, and their rest has been long and sweet and also just beginning, and their rest has been full and found in HIM, not in a stone. "They", their stones, are so far away. They are NOT far away, but only just a moment ahead, just ahead, around His throne, their eyes on His face, His name on their forehead, living water flowing from His throne, the same Water-of-Life I stand in. 

His mercies are new every morning, but this morning when I woke they felt shadowed...the kids seemingly fighting over every little thing and ten times louder than normal, saucy teenage jabs not rolling off, the oven is broken and beeping so loudly through pancakes I feel like I'm going to lose my mind, the 'install a new light' project for this morning took every frustrating wrong turn possible, and a happy social gathering instead felt lonely.  A stop at the store for purple flowers for Mom's birthday resulted in no purple flowers, and a selfish teenage grumble with the intention of hurting--for she did not get her way--made me feel completely undone and despairing, total failure. 

I find myself going through the motions of mama and Saturday in my body, and unable to get up off the floor in my heart.

this is a day that marks
an anniversary of my loss
and waking to it
I must drink again
from the stream of sorrow
that cannot be fully remedied 
in this life

There are days like this. I cling. Cling to grace. Cling to His mercies, ALWAYS more, they are always more. 

Always on the scales of His mercies and my heartaches, shortcomings and losses, He is more. 

I find Him more. 

I find Him enough. 

I find Him.

Wherever your shadows today, cling with me to the more He is.  

Do not waste my greatest sorrow, O God, but use them to teach me to live in your presence, in the places where my shattering and your shaping meet. 

the crumpled ones

There are certain devotionals from Oswald Chambers in My Utmost for His Highest that simply kick my tail every year. I always tell the kids that one of the functions of the Holy Spirit and of O. Chambers is conviction :)

Try with me to just pull over your daily concerns, interests, plans and pities with THIS blanket of truth:

Being completely aligned and identified with God's interests can only be accomplished by giving up all of your personal plans once and for all, and by allowing God to take you directly into His purpose for the world.

I have to learn that the aim of life is God’s, not mine. God is using me from his great personal standpoint.

All he asks of me is that I have implicit faith in him and in his goodness, such faith that I never say, “Lord, this gives me such heartache.” To talk in that way makes me an impediment to him.

When I stop telling God what I want, he can take me up for what he wants without hindrance. He can crumple me or exalt me. He can do anything he chooses.

Self-pity is of the devil. If I go down that road, I cannot be used by God for his purpose, because I live in my own private sphere, a little “world within the world.”

God will never be able to get me to come out into his world, because I’m too afraid of what I’ll encounter. I have to set aside my selfishness and fear and become entirely identified with him.

It wasn't all that long ago that I was teary-eyed in the kitchen with Hannah, some Wednesday night after the kids were all tucked in bed.

I wasn't nearly as emotional as I was mad. Mad and frustrated and disappointed in myself.

I was lamenting her the same old laments. I was pouring over the same old circles. I was sifting through the same old pities, and I was sick of them.

I was dry and weary and tired of myself, and I remember saying to her, "When did I become so timid and self-pitying and dull? I used to be so bold, so ready, so abandoned. Ready to go, ready to die, ready to fight, ready to go after the Gospel and the sharing it! This season instead has me a SHELL of myself, so cautious and shrunk and shriveled. I'm so tired of being this pinched version of myself that cries and complains about the same things again and again, unable to move on, unable to let go!"

I had lots of good reasons that dark-night-of-the-soul season to go down the road of self-pity, but what a TRAP it was, my own little world, too afraid.

I read it again this year, this morning, and see where and when I DID finally set aside my self-focus and my fear, and learn again that my life--from my hours to my money to my children to my relationships to my experiences to my scars to my rights--is ONLY free and bold and beautiful when I am not nursing it nor naming it or claiming it. Our lives our only lovely and contented when they are truly HIS. Our lives given fully to HIS purposes are finally free. Once I finally was able to lay down MY great personal standpoint....oh, how He freed me again to His own!

What a God we have, mighty on the throne, Lord of Heaven's Armies, to even HAVE and CARE a standpoint on our little lives. To even have a WANT for me.

That freedom, that boldness, that joy I was missing that season returned when I came back to "whatever He wants, without hindrance. He can crumple me! He can exalt me! God be praised."

Reading through those well-underlined words of O Chambers is like walking again through the mountains and valleys. It has been the seasons I have CLUNG to what I wanted for my life that have been the very hardest, the most unfair, the most painful. Can we trust today in His goodness, and therefore give Him without hindrance our lives for whatever HE wants?

Even today? How beautiful are the crumpled ones, in His loving hands.

the kingdom of The Faithful One

I must be getting old, because that trip wiped me out! All week I was unsure what day it was, and despite heading to bed several nights by 9 pm, I was still struggling to get up every morning. Getting older is not for the faint of heart, nor is parenting those who are getting older! 

While the teenagers are always speeding things up, a two-year old in the mix always reminds me to slow down and notice the sweet things in life, in the middle of the mundane. Emma LOVES to sing, and while we fold laundry and drive to another pick up, while I get a little work done or wait for the water to boil, she is singing me some song and enjoying her life. 

Church this morning, as always, was another slow down...a powerful word on resisting anxiety and worry by remembering to seek first His kingdom, and to find our rest in The Faithful One. 

Days umbrella-d by prayers that I might TODAY seek first His kingdom...those days keep the perspective of His priorities. Efforts laid down for working from a place of REST in the Faithful One...that is a sweet spot from which to labor. 

What does seeking first His kingdom even look like in these moments? What does my Monday look like, if I am seeking first His kingdom? 

How does resting in the Faithful One instead of trying harder to be faithful transform? And as I looked around rows of a hurting church this morning, how did He answer my "Lord, why doesn't it seem like You're being faithful in this situation?"

Because your seems is wrong. 

Resting in the unwavering Faithful One, all our seems is wrong. 

We got to go see "The Best Christmas Pageant Ever" last night, and it was such a powerful reminder, as we head into what has become the crazy season, of the centering of Christmas, just as this mornings sermon was such a great reminder of centering for this week ahead. 

I am praying for you, many...and grateful to be seeking Him first with you!

If I can pray something specific, please let me know, always! staceyhaiti@gmail.com

homecoming

Matt and I are just finishing an incredibly long, but sweet roadtrip to North Carolina for Uncle Harold's funeral.  We both had precious time with Aunt Sharon and Uncle Martin, Angie, Uncle Dave, Brian and Susie, Jeff and Laura, Kate and Storly, Rachel and Isaac, Tom and Tonya, and lots of other heroes of ours. Miranda held down the fort at home with the kiddos, along with a lot of sweet mamas who hemmed our kiddos into their weekend activities to make it possible for us to go!   

Sitting on the front porch with various family members, we got to hear all about Uncle Harold being born in this house, his sister's house on one side and his brother's house on the other. A family of farmers, Harold had planned to take over the family farm until the Lord really got ahold of his life and called him to a different Harvest.  What a humbling weekend to sit and hear SO many stories about this godly and humble man, many of which included Aunt Mary, praying in the room next door. 

We celebrate so mightily the ball-catching or song-singing abilities of other humans, but the times that Harold Brown was sanctified and abandoned to bring peace to impossible situations, the times that painful and sacrificial faithfulness was needed and persevered, the testimonies that transformed people's entire lives and future generations....these stories are often passed over. 

Not by Him. 

I'm so thankful for the strengthening in my bones and spirit that came from the stories and faithfulness of Harold and Mary and so many others this weekend! I'm so thankful for this Family of Faith God has woven us into! I'm so thankful Matt got to preach such a sacred funeral, Harold, just a few moments ahead, and that we were able to be there to mourn and celebrate and remember and be edified together!  

though He slay me

I've heard Matt Ayars preach a lotta powerful sermons, but this sermon he preached last night answering the question: Why Does God Allow Suffering? was IT.  If it feels like you can't get a break, if the devastation around us feel crippling, if your suffering is unceasing, if loss has ever had you deeply wondering: Is He actually good? Is He actually powerful? Then what.is.this.about??"...this preaching of the Word took my breath, and doubts, away.  

Though He slay me.

Take a minute: 

legacies

Our dear Uncle Harold, Aunt Sharon's Daddy, has been so many places--shared our Haiti roots, took Matt to Russia, worked for the unreached all over Africa--and has finally gone Home. 

No more suffering, no more missing his Mary, no more struggles, no more pain...and also no more precious adventures and conversations and prayers with Harold. The last time I heard Uncle Harold's voice, through the phone when I was talking to Aunt Sharon, she said: "I'm talking to Stacey, Daddy," and I heard him say, "Stacey? She's one of my very favorite writers."  THAT is ridiculous, and yet so pricelessly Harold Brown that I will cherish it forever. Aunt Sharon and Angie had such an incredibly special relationship with their godly father...I feel the ACHE just with them, in my bones. 

Two days before he passed, another dear friend and fellow board member at OMS had a major health setback and died just hours later, and while it is not hard for me to picture energetic and compassionate Rudy at His throne--SO quick to jump in, SO quick to tear up, SO quick to testify His faithfullness--it IS hard to picture him g o n e .

How have I been SO RICH as to touch lives with SO MANY faithful people??

So what we have is Jesus. 

What we have, it Never fails, and He is enough.

What we have is the knowledge of Revelation 22 for our dear ones, reigning forever and ever and ever and just waiting a moment for us. No longer anything accursed (sadness, loneliness, pain, sickness, heartbreak, missing, anxiety), the throne of God flowing the river of the water of life, His servants worshipping Him, seeing His face, His name on their foreheads, no more night, no more darkness. The Lord their light, reigning forever and ever, these words are trustworthy and true.

It doesn't just comfort me. It transforms me. It transforms death. It redeems it. It somehow means that while everything feels SO heavily t.h.e.  e.n.d. with these precious fathers, it is not the end. Not even close. Just the beginning, the beginning of ALWAYS.

And I am SO THANKFUL I have Rudy imprinted forever in my life. I am SO thankful that Uncle Harold's powerful, gentle, abandoned and passionate legacy has been being poured and poured into me for 17 years now. Uncle Martin and Aunt Sharon hemmed our family in because Uncle Harold and Aunt Mary were their parents and that was how they did things, their BIG love and faithful witness passed down. And still does. And always will. Reigning forever and ever.

The broken parts, for Harold and Rudy, are NO more, not even a wince, not even a shadow, not even a painful memory, not even a sigh (Isaiah 35). 

I am SO weary of sickness, brokenness, suffering, sadness and death, and believing SO FULLY that it will be redeemed as if it NEVER was that I cling to Rudy's Hope, Harold's Hope, Mom and Dad's Hope, Granny's Hope, the Hope. 

Eyes on Jesus, Stacey. 

Like Harold's.

the stability of our times

Isaiah has been sustaining me these days, what has you?  It has slowed me down. I am walking it slowly for myself, and I am walking it slowly on behalf of some of you, undergoing deep and wide losses and overshadowing brokenness.

O Lord, be gracious to us; we wait for you.

Be our arm every morning,

our salvation in the time of trouble. 

At the tumultuous noise people flee;

when you lift yourself up, nations are scattered.

The Lord is exalted, for He dwells on high;

He will fill Zion with justice and righteousness,

and he will be the stability of your times,

abundance of salvation, wisdom, and knowledge;

the fear of the Lord is our treasure. 

The effect of righteousness will be peace

and the result of righteousness, quietness and trust forever. 

My people will abide in a peaceful habitation, 

in secure dwellings, and in quiet resting places.

For all the tumultuous "times" this passage has been read the last thousands of years, He will be the stability of our times. He isn't snippets of what we need, but pours out His abundance of salvation, wisdom, knowledge.  Trusting Him, respecting Him, living in awe and fear of Him, is our treasure that cannot be shaken nor taken away. 

Live faithfully with me, family. Watch your words, blessings instead of curses, seek peace and pursue it, speaking only the truth and only in love. Cling to that mustard seed of faith and the effect of righteousness will be peace, quietness and trust. 

Trusting Him with you, today.

Philly Fun

Oh man. It took us a lot longer and a few detours to get home, but we made it and had the best whirlwind days in Philly with the Northams! We did all the things--from Amish country to big city--and had lots of down-time, precious cousin time, lots of laughter and play...just such a joy! Even with the extra overnight in Dallas, we all agreed it was 100 times worth the effort...

Getting away is refreshing, there is nothing like family, and any time the cousins are together I love to sit and watch and listen, especially with people as precious as Lisa and Adam.  I am SO thankful for family, even when everyone is SO far away.

And we are wiped :)

There are a lot of good and kind people out there. Nothing like traveling with five kiddos to bring out the nasty looks...and also the sweetest remarks! I came out of a long 2 travel days with a quart of milk and a dozen doughnuts from a complete stranger, more kindness than frustration, and so many uplifting remarks about the kiddos. When people are patient and gracious with one another, and take a minute to say something uplifting, it just blesses me...because I always need it and it always reminds me of HIM!