Welcome!

So much of life is waiting. . .

As a Christian, I am waiting for a lot--for God to do His refining work in me, for Jesus to return, for me to GET how much God loves me and for me to see what He is doing . . .

What to do in the meantime? I have learned much about what the Lord is trying to teach me, tell me and show me through the discipline of daily time spent reading the Bible. So often we make this time harder than it has to be.

This blog was born out of wanting to share what God is showing me and wanting to be an example that daily time with God is not a deep or mysterious thing (well, every once in a while it can be), but simply a time to read scripture and note what jumps out at you that day. We don't have to be scholars or super-holy or ministry leaders to do this. Some days I hit the jackpot and others I come up empty--but only by persevering do I give God the space in which to speak and myself the stillness in which to hear and obey.

As of June of 2017, I've now decided to include parts of our adoption journey, which is, so far, yet another chapter of waiting.

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Some Days Are Like That. . .

Today was a hard day. It’s been a year since our domestic adoption home study was approved by our agency and Paul and I officially became a “waiting family.” During that year we had an expectant mom choose us to parent her child. However, due to several circumstances, she ultimately changed her mind and decided to parent. We’d had a name, a crib, an outfit, and a vision of ourselves as a family of three. Since then, it’s been eight months of nothing. The reality is that there aren’t a lot of infants out there in the private adoption world. The reality is that we are too old for almost all international adoption, and the countries we’re not too old for we don’t qualify in other areas. We’re planning on taking the classes to become foster parents to see if that route might work better. We’re trying to trust the Lord and pay attention to where He might be leading.

Those are the facts. But today I’m also dealing with the feelings. The pain of wanting to be a mom for as long as I can remember, and imagining myself with a husband and four kids, staying home as Mom while Dad went out to work. But the husband didn’t come until the biological window was already essentially closed. So, instead of what it seems most people do—some canoodling with the hubby and voila, a baby—we instead got to do fingerprinting and fire inspections and social work interviews and friend referrals. CPR classes and book studies and drug tests.  Application fees and class fees and agency fees. And we did it, praying and hoping for the child who would make it all worth it.

After this year of waiting, we went for a meeting today to talk with our social worker about how we are doing and what else we could do. I like our agency. They’ve been great. But no one seems to know what to do when I respond with my honest feelings rather than the correct Christian answer.

“You do a blog? Write a blog about your adoption wait,” they say.  Yeah, right. Because people want to hear how powerless I am and how impatient I feel and how frustrating it is to be able to do nothing to make this happen. People prefer happy endings. Those chosen to share their stories always have the husband, or the baby, or the cure, or the victory. “Read this book about this woman and her wait.” “Does she have the baby now?” “Yes.” “That’s what I just said:  NO ONE WANTS TO HEAR ABOUT THE MESS IN THE MIDDLE UNLESS THERE’S A HAPPY ENDING COMING.”

We are in the middle of the mess in the middle of the story. We may not get the happy ending that we desire. It’s harder than I imagined to put my heart and hope out there for everyone to see. It can be difficult to stay positive or even realistic.  Today was a mix of so many emotions. I’m tired of waiting. I'm angry this isn't easier. There’s not much I can do, but I want to do what I can. Yet when I get suggestions: Write a blog, join Instagram, try Pinterest, call other agencies, make a copy of your book and put it at OB-GYN offices, ask friends to share your profile. . . then I shut down because what if I can’t do all of that? If I can’t or we don’t do it right, do we miss our chance at a child? And, deeper, why does this have to be so hard for us when it is so easy for so many other people?

As many of you who follow this blog know, I have had my struggles with feeling distant from the Lord over the last few years. It’s improved, but I would still like my relationship with Him to be closer. In the middle of this journey it can be hard to see God at work. As I spent the afternoon avoiding the acts of praying and processing the morning, I had an errand to run. I couldn’t find the audiobook I wanted, so I was listening to a message from my old church in St. Louis. When that message finished, another one automatically loaded from Tim Keller, well-known pastor and Christian author, called "An Immigrant's Courage", about Ruth and Naomi and Boaz. It’s a great message and I could talk about several ideas in it, but what struck my heart was when Keller spoke about how the Lord did not abandon Naomi. He provided Ruth for her, and, through Ruth, a future and a hope and an heir.

Naomi thought that she had lost everything. Her husband and sons were dead and she was too old to work or to marry. She went back home telling everyone to call her “Mara” because it meant “bitter”. However, God had a plan for her. The book of Ruth is only four chapters long and will tell you the whole wonderful story.  God ultimately provided a husband for Ruth, and, through Jewish custom, an heir to Naomi’s son. The Lord did not abandon Naomi, and He has not and will not abandon me. That doesn’t mean that I will get a child. It does mean that the Lord is with me and communicating during the wait. Today God used the message I heard and the truth of the book of Ruth to remind me that, though things may not work out according to my plan, He will not leave me alone.

So, I will call more agencies, take the foster care classes, continue to figure out Instagram, keep praying that God will bring us a child, and wait for the end of the story.

P.S.
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Sunday, February 26, 2017

What Martha Got Right

Mary versus Martha. If you have spent any time at all in church, you have probably heard a message about Mary and Martha. If you are a woman who goes to church, you have probably listened to at least one teaching contrasting Mary with Martha, with Mary being the role model. The account of these sisters and one of their encounters with Jesus is found in Luke 10:38-42:
 Now as they went on their way, Jesus entered a village. And a woman named Martha welcomed him into her house.  And she had a sister called Mary, who sat at the Lord's feet and listened to his teaching. But Martha was distracted with much serving. And she went up to him and said, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me to serve alone? Tell her then to help me.” But the Lord answered her, “Martha, Martha, you are anxious and troubled about many things, but one thing is necessary. Mary has chosen the good portion, which will not be taken away from her."
Usually the lesson revolves around how to be more like Mary and sit at the feet of Jesus--which is a useful, excellent, and necessary teaching. Usually, Martha is portrayed as the bad guy of the piece. Usually, I feel sad because in my soul, I am a Martha. I am often "anxious and troubled about many things." If I have visitors, I want to serve enough food, I want to display a clean home, I want to care for friends' needs. I can justify all my bustling under the umbrella of service.

A few months ago, however, God showed me something new about this passage. Yes, Martha is worrying and fretting and ignoring the better choice, which is to sit at the feet of Jesus. She is annoyed with her sister for not helping her to serve Jesus (and probably at least some of the other disciples). She feels put-upon and justified in her grievance. I have felt much the same way before--why are people standing around talking when there is work to be done? And I have fretted. And stewed. And gotten mad at the people who aren't doing their part.

Martha, however, goes directly to Jesus. She doesn't hint around to Mary or walk around sighing loudly as she cleans. She doesn't talk to all of the other guests about how Mary isn't helping, "Bless her heart." She doesn't holler at Mary later. She goes to Jesus, tells Him what she is feeling, and asks Him to do something. Her actions are exactly what we should do when we are upset. Go to the Lord, tell Him how we are feeling, and then request what we want (whether we're right or not).

Notice that Martha received an answer from Jesus. He directly addresses her desire--probably not as she wishes Him to, but He answers her nonetheless, and immediately. Jesus gives Martha the wisdom and the directive that she truly needs to "choose the good portion."

I wish that I would instantly choose the right action like Mary did in this instance (because, if you keep reading, there's another encounter  described in John 11 in which Mary is not necessarily "the good one".) Unfortunately, I am much more likely to be distracted by my agenda and miss God's. When I do and when I start to get frustrated with someone else who is not doing what I think they should be, I hope that I will be wise as Martha and take my grievance directly to Jesus and hear what He tells me to do. Martha may not have sat at the feet of Jesus that night, but she did walk in relationship with Him, and I can imagine where she would have been found the next time Jesus came for dinner.

Sunday, February 12, 2017

Change at Last

So, so long since I have felt like I had any thoughts or insights worth sharing.  Months upon months I have spent feeling distant from the Lord and trudging through the disciplines of reading, praying, and worshiping. I had almost become resigned to the idea that I would never feel connected to God again. Emotions aside, the truth is that I am in reality always connected to the Lord and loved by Him. However, I missed the feeling of communion and the amazement of hearing from Him.

A consistent frustration of my Christian life has been navigating the tension between what I do and what God does. In this dry spell, I have battled anger at the Lord at why He didn’t just do His miraculous work and fix whatever was between me and Him. I have been annoyed at people telling me all the things I should do to bridge this gap. I have been frustrated at my own inability to figure out what the problem was and make it go away.

A few weeks ago, through no act of my own and no fireworks, the Lord changed something in my heart. My husband and I had had an emotional talk about some hard things, and I was also battling a fog of perimenopausal PMS hormones. As a result, I didn’t sleep well. But, when I awakened, I prayed, and God opened my eyes to see how selfish I had been lately and how I had forgotten the whole focus of following Jesus. He used my husband’s words to remind me of what I’m supposed to be doing:  Believing that God is at work where we are. Having faith that He will lead and guide us. Loving others without expecting love in return. Believing the best about people. Forgiving. Walking in love and faith.

The Lord also brought to mind something He had showed me when I was a part of Beth Moore’s “Believing God” Bible study. I have always struggled with understanding what it means to have faith. During that study, I had the epiphany that faith is “simply” believing that the Lord is at work right now, in everything that is happening in my life, and that He is working it out for good, and I can trust that He is here and active.

God did this change. In the middle of the night.  As I was awakened. When I wasn’t even trying. I did nothing other than wake up and listen.

I am reading through the Bible this year, and recently began the book of Exodus. The Israelites are enslaved to the Egyptians, they cry out to the Lord, and God hears them:
  “. . . and the people of Israel groaned because of their slavery and cried out for help. Their cry for rescue from slavery came up to God. And God heard their groaning, and God remembered his covenant with Abraham, with Isaac, and with Jacob. God saw the people of Israel—and God knew.” (Exodus 2: 23-25)

Yay-God hears them, God sends Moses, the people will escape and be free. Not so fast. God heard them. Then He has to convince Moses to go. Moses comes and tells the people that God had heard them and will deliver them.  Then the pharaoh makes their jobs even harder and their lives more miserable. The people have been told that God is going to deliver them, but it is not immediate. They endure ten plagues. They flee through the desert and are almost overtaken by Egyptians. Finally, they are free from Egypt, but it is still years before Israel as a nation inhabits the Promised Land.

I am already free from sin because of salvation. However, on this earth, the day-to-day deliverance is often not instantaneous. Sanctification is a process. I can grit my teeth and pursue God even when I don’t feel Him and don’t hear Him, and I think there is some value to that. Ultimately, however, it is God who changes hearts and who, at just the right time (usually way later than I think it should be) breaks through to us and shows us what we need to know and more of who He is.

I am thankful to feel connected again. I am thrilled to read the Bible and have verses leap off of the page as relevant to me and my life. The grace of God is the only catalyst and cause of this revival.  Do I yet know why there was such a season of drought? Not yet. I am purposing to believe that there was a reason—maybe simply my own sin and inability to see it. I am grateful that, as 1 John 3:19-20 says: 
“By this we shall know that we are of the truth and reassure our heart before him; for whenever our heart condemns us, God is greater than our heart, and he knows everything.”

I am thankful that the God whom it all depends on is much, much bigger than my human heart. 

Friday, July 15, 2016

Not the Goal, but the Getting There

"Joy in the journey." Hearing that phrase makes me cringe. On every set of personality profiles I have taken, I am in the group who are fairly logical, highly bossy, and extremely goal-directed. I don't want to enjoy the journey. I want to get to the end of the journey and get the prize.

As a Christian, I have often been exhorted to enjoy the process rather than be so focused on the end result. Yeah, yeah, whatever, just tell me what to do to succeed and leave me alone so I can figure out how to get to the end. I've had glimpses along the way where I have seen the wisdom in these exhortations, but I am quickly lured back into the pursuit of the end goal, reasoning that the faster I get to the end, the more time I can bask in the joy of arriving.

One of the newest adventures I am living is that of marriage. I was single a long time, and God taught me a lot through that experience. I've only been married about two years, and the Lord continues to teach me, reinforcing old lessons and introducing new ones. Recently I was feeling frustrated because (unsurprisingly), there are some areas in which both my husband and I continue to mess up, to need repentance, to ask forgiveness, and to try again.

For me, the area is that of speech. Anyone knowing me is aware that I tend toward criticizing and complaining, and have for my entire life. I can remember my parents telling me to stop being so critical when I was about eight years old. I have looked up Bible verses about speech. I have memorized them. I have prayed for God to help me. I have tried to uncover WHY this is my default. If I had a dollar for every time I have apologized to someone about my words, I would be rich. Yet I still do it. The Holy Spirit lives in me, and I have the power that raised Christ Jesus from the dead in me (see the whole book of Ephesians), but I still do battle with myself over the words that come out of my mouth and the need to share them with others, regardless of the effect. My husband has his areas which are similar. Places where he falls over and over and over and has to come to me and confess and ask forgiveness.

Our situation is not unique. All of us battle sins and faults. However, in my mind and heart I believed that somehow, if I just kept working hard, or praying hard, or spent enough time with God, I would be free of ever hurting someone with my words again, and then I would have arrived. I would be completely happy. Someday, my husband would overcome his difficulties, and, between both of our victories, our marriage would be the Shining Christian Example of Jesus at work.

That's a lot of pressure, to be perfect before I can be joyful. The result is that every time either of us fails (which is a lot), my happiness and view of my marriage and my relationship with the Lord takes a hit. The thoughts in my head include: "Why can't we GET this? We both love the Lord. We're both trying so hard." "I don't want to do this my whole life. I want to be done and able to just relax." "I want to have a good marriage, and be a glory to God. Instead, we're just a mess."

Yeah. . . lots wrong with all of those statements, actually. Last weekend I heard a message about King David. He was nearing the end of his life, and he was, once again, battling the Philistines. The theme of the message was David renewing his hope in the Lord. What I noticed and have been thinking about is that David never "arrived". He never had more than a few years of calm and peace. He starts out being anointed king of Israel, but has to wait over ten years to assume the crown, fighting and running and hiding throughout those years. Then, he still has to fight the enemies of Israel. He sins with Bathsheba and reaps the consequence of that choice for the rest of his life, his family dealing with the fallout for generations. Yet, in recounting the history of the later kings of Israel and Judah, they are always compared to David. The Lord promises David that his throne would be established forever (2 Samuel 7:16).

David never got it all together, yet he is still put forth as an example of a man of faith. Thinking about this, I realized that my premise was faulty. I will never be perfect until I die. The whole reason I need Jesus is because I will never, ever be able to get it right. Yes, I need to keep learning and growing and drawing closer to the Lord, but I will never be able to say, "Hey, look at me! Look at my marriage! We have it all figured out and now we can relax because we made it and God is happy with us."

Because of Jesus, God is happy with me now. Even if I am still apologizing on my deathbed for something that I said, I can still be joyful because of my relationship with God. There IS NO arrival until I am with Jesus. There is ONLY the journey of drawing closer to the Lord and learning to love and know Him and others better. Just this morning, I read Psalm 16, which was written by David:


I have set the Lord always before me;
because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.

  Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices;
my flesh also dwells secure.
  For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol,
or let your holy one see corruption.

  You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. (Psalm 16:8-11) 

My joy comes from the presence of the Lord, not my performance. Period. His presence is experienced during the journey, not only when I have completed it. May I have the eyes and heart to see and believe that truth.




Monday, May 30, 2016

So THAT'S What I've Been Doing Wrong!

Every once in a while, I hear a message that both convicts me and illuminates truth to me. Christian nerd alert: I listen to podcasts of messages, usually from The Summit, the last church I attended in Missouri; and often while I clean. Please don't calculate my lack of regularity in cleaning when I confess that the last message I listened to (about a week ago) was from February 14, 2016. It is a message in a series about James, and the focus was from James 3:13-18:


 Who is wise and understanding among you? By his good conduct let him show his works in the meekness of wisdom.  But if you have bitter jealousy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast and be false to the truth.  This is not the wisdom that comes down from above, but is earthly, unspiritual, demonic.  For where jealousy and selfish ambition exist, there will be disorder and every vile practice.  But the wisdom from above is first pure, then peaceable, gentle, open to reason, full of mercy and good fruits, impartial and sincere.  And a harvest of righteousness is sown in peace by those who make peace.
I recommend that you listen to the entire message for yourself: "Faith that Moves Us to Godly WIsdom", and put forth the caveat that what follows is how God used these words in my life, and may or may not communicate exactly what the pastor was trying to impart.

If you know me in real life, or even through this blog, it is not a secret that a weakness of mine is my speech and how I use my words. Sometimes I don't think. I am quite opinionated, and sometimes I don't listen. The past year has had some struggles in it, primarily my struggle to transition from a predominatley suburban school district to a much more diverse city school district, compounded with the reality that the group of kids I worked with this year have their own struggles with how they use their words and being opinionated. I have been highly frustrated at my inability to establish a class community of kindness and respect.

The crux of the message that I listened to was that, if we speak truth without humility or love, we actually can cause truth to be used by the enemy and can tempt other people to sin. I have said to loved ones, more than once, "But it's TRUE". This reply is usually in response to someone telling me that I am being negative or have hurt their feelings. I felt like it was their problem if what I said was true.

Ephesians 4:15 says this: "Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ." I am quite familiar with that verse in theory. Apparently not so much in practice.

Could it be that much of my frustration in my classroom is due to the fact that, while I was speaking the truth about the inappropriate/disrespectful speech and behavior, I was doing it without humility or love? My correction wasn't coming from a heart wanting to help my students become better people, but from a heart wanting my class to behave in front of others and to simply make my day easier (both motives based the selfish ambition James referenced)? Furthermore, since my discipline was being delivered with little love, it actually caused MORE problems and disrespect (aka sin) from my students?

Closer to home, my other big struggle of the year (my life?) is how I share truth with my husband. Just the day before I listened to this message, I had shared a truth without (I now know) love or humility, and when my husband's feelings were hurt (and it wasn't even something directly related to him), I just kept saying, "But it's true. I can't help it if it's discouraging." The lightbulb--I was probably only sharing so that I could make some kind of snarky or self-righteous pronouncement, not to bring love or grace into the situation.

It's been a week or so since I listened to the message, and I have been praying about it and thinking about it often. I have also been trying to put it into practice. The only way that my heart will change is to draw closer to Jesus and the cross. When I do that, I see the sin in my own heart, and the humility and love that Jesus offers me even as He shows me the truth of my wickedness and my need for His redemption. Has my class magically become sweet and compliant? No. But I am becoming better at speaking the truth with love and taking time to weigh my words and heart.

My true words, in order to be truly wise, need to be peaceable, gentle, full of mercy, and sincere, just to name a few. (James 3, 17).  I will only find this wisdom by drawing near to Christ.

 



Saturday, May 7, 2016

Dimly

Still trudging out of the desert over here. I continue with reading through the Bible in a year and read in both Kings and Luke this week. The account of Elijah challenging the prophets of Baal via the "Whose God can Light the Altar on Fire First" contest remains one of my favorite Biblical stories (1 Kings 18). Elijah sees God's power consume a drenched altar and the prophets of Baal defeated. However, immediately after this victory, we find Elijah dejected in the desert, having fled from Jezebel and her threat on his life.

While in the desert, Elijah meets with God, and tells the Lord:
". . .I have been very jealous for the Lord, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken your covenant,thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life, to take it away." (1 Kings 19:14)
In Elijah's mind, all hope is gone, and he is all alone, the only one who is faithful to the Lord. However, God reveals to Elijah that there are seven thousand people who have not bowed their knee to Baal. Seven thousand, instead of just Elijah.

Sometimes I have the same amount of faith as Elijah hiding out in the desert. Elijah feels alone, and is certain that there is no one else on his team. Yet, there are 7000 people allied with him. What he believed wasn't true. It wasn't even close to the truth. It reminds me of Jesus' miracle with the loaves and fishes. Though the disciples had seen him do miraculous deeds, they didn't believe He could feed the people, and yet there were twelve baskets full of leftovers when dinner was finished.

Over and over in the Bible, God provides so much more than we can imagine. I remember days in my life feeling like I would never find a man to marry. There were days I was certain that such a man simply did not exist (and I didn't think my requirements were even that burdensome). Yet, I have been blessed with a husband far better than I ever expected.

This latest stint in the desert has lasted a long time. Days and months of feeling far away from the Lord and morning after morning of opening the Bible out of discipline, deaf to the truth I was reading. I have thought that maybe I would never hear from God again. Reading about Elijah reminds me that I and all of us see so dimly and have such small faith. Elijah was sure he was alone--but he wasn't. I was sure I would never find a husband--but I did. I was almost certain I would never again have truth leap off the pages of Scripture--but it's starting to again.

I want to learn how to walk in faith, and how to remember the loaves and the fishes and the 7000 faithful when I feel hungry and alone. God is at work whether I see it or not. He is present whether I feel it or not. The Chris Tomlin song, "I Will Rise" has lyrics in verse two that speak to this: "There's a day that's drawing near when this darkness breaks to light, and the shadows disappear and my faith shall be my eyes."

I think I see clearly. I am wrong. My eyes, this world, are all shrouded still in darkness until Jesus comes again.
For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known. (I Corinthians 13:12)


Saturday, April 9, 2016

No More Fear?

Five months since I have blogged.  Five months since I posted about feeling stuck. Five months in which I remained stuck. Just in the past week or so have I dared to hope that, maybe, I'm starting to come unstuck. Not by any act of mine, but simply by the grace of God.

I struggle with fear and worry. Every day I wonder and worry about someone I love dying. About the new over-forty-year-old body ache that surely signifies cancer or some other dread disease. About a blizzard or tornado, depending on the season. Every time I fly I imagine that I could crash. Every time my husband drives I imagine he could crash. And, all these things could happen.

Tuesday I was reading in the Bible  about the time when the disciples were in a boat with Jesus:  
 And behold, there arose a great storm on the sea, so that the boat was being swamped by the waves; but he was asleep. And they went and woke him, saying, “Save us, Lord; we are perishing.”  And he said to them, “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then he rose and rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. And the men marveled, saying, “What sort of man is this, that even winds and sea obey him?” (Matthew 8:24-27)
Jesus asks the disciples why they are afraid. I would think it would be obvious: They're in a boat, it's storming, and the boat is being swamped. Which means, to me, that if I were there I would be afraid that the boat is going to sink. Plus, Jesus, the one Whom they look to for help was asleep. Then Jesus tells them they don't have much faith. In the same account as told in Luke 8, verse 25 reports that Jesus asks them, "Where is your faith?" I've been thinking about that question for the past few days.

It seems as if Jesus is saying that if they had faith, they wouldn't fear. Even with the waves crashing, even with the water threatening to sink the boat, they should not be afraid. Why? I went on a search through the New Testament to find the people who were commended for their faith. On the list were the Roman Centurion whose daughter is healed, the friends of the paralyzed man who lowered him through the roof to see Jesus, the bleeding woman who touched Jesus' hem, the Canaanite woman who sought healing for her daughter, the blind beggar who cries out to Jesus, and the tenth leper who returns to give thanks. Each of these were people I found who had direct dealings with Jesus.

What did they have in common? They sought out Jesus and believed that He could help them. Yet, so did the disciples. The disciples also went to Jesus and  asked Him for help. I wonder if (as it always is) it was a difference in what was in each person's heart. Did the disciples really believe that Jesus could help them? Were they annoyed with him for being asleep? Did they truly believe (as they soon learned) that Jesus could still the very winds and waves that were threatening to capsize them? Where had they placed their faith?

How much better would my life be if I weren't fearful and worried, especially over things that haven't even happened? Why can I choose not to fear? Over and over I return to the basic elements of Christianity. I can choose not to fear because Jesus is with me. Nothing that I will face, should my worst imaginings come to pass, will be bigger than God's power and grace. I need to put my faith, my confidence, and my assurance in the person of Jesus--the Jesus who stilled those waves, healed those people, and rose victorious from that grave.

Hebrews 2: 14-15 says this:
Since therefore the children share in flesh and blood, he himself likewise partook of the same things, that through death he might destroy the one who has the power of death, that is, the devil,  and deliver all those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery.
Look at that last phrase again: "...those who through fear of death were subject to lifelong slavery." I have been a slave to the fear of death. I do not have to be. Through Jesus' resurrection, I have been set free from this fear. I will be with Jesus when I die. The people I love who follow and believe Jesus, I will see again in eternity. I don't need to be enslaved. I am not enslaved.

The Message paraphrase of Hebrews 2:14-15 puts it like this:
Since the children are made of flesh and blood, it’s logical that the Savior took on flesh and blood in order to rescue them by his death. By embracing death, taking it into himself, he destroyed the Devil’s hold on death and freed all who cower through life, scared to death of death.
I no longer need to be scared to death of death. I no longer need to fear. Come what may, Jesus is in the boat with me. I pray that God will show me how to find my faith and abandon fear.