God's Goodness

A Pathway to Hope

~ Susan Brown ~ Leave a comment

Sunday morning. I stretched my hand across wrinkled sheets on my husband’s empty side of the bed, opening one eye just enough to make out the time on his bedside clock. 5:50am. Ugh! Not exactly a slow start on my so-called day of rest. At least I wasn’t the first one awake in our house. 

I flopped onto my back, air whooshing from my lungs. Another day—a different day. Yet my pulse throbbed in my ears the same way it had every other morning that week. Maybe my heart was trying to keep pace with my rushing stream of thoughts, like a frantic mother chasing her runaway toddler. I switched on the bedside lamp, its pale, yellow light filling my corner of the room, and covered my eyes. LORD, I’m so tired. 

For a while I lingered there, wavering, longing to pull the covers over my head and sink back into a dreamless slumber. Yet my soul was parched and panting, desperate for fresh water. I pulled two extra pillows from the floor and sat upright, propping them behind me, then gathered my bible, journal and pens. Closing my eyes, I inhaled slowly, praying, Thank You, LORD. A new day. Eyes open, I turned to a fresh page in my journal and began to write.  

‘Sunday 24th July, 2022. 

6am.   

LORD, I put my hope in You. You are my strength and my song.’ Those words were sincere—an expression of faith. But on that morning, none of them felt real. ‘Father, my heart is downcast,’ I wrote. ‘My body and emotions are weary.’ I paused and sighed, my shoulders drooping. ‘I look to You—my help and my strength—and lay before you all my struggles . . .’

Out through my pen and onto the page the words flowed, psalm-like—an inky, itemised confession of every battle and every negative emotion that weighed so heavily on my heart. Three months earlier, my husband and I had begun a season of intensive training—a fast-paced, schedule-cramming blend of paid work, online study, manuscript writing and course creation, all while preparing our family for a massive interstate move. As lovers of slow time and simplicity, we found the pace exhausting. 

‘LORD, I’m not sure I can keep doing this.’ 

I pressed my lips together in a grim line as I stared at the words—so confronting, but true. My endurance and hope were waning—fast. 

Busy seasons in our past had taught us that working non-stop was not sustainable. Yet here we were, doing everything we knew we shouldn’t—spending long hours, late hours glued to our computer screens, hijacking family mealtimes by ‘talking shop’, and prioritising productivity over time with friends. And under the surface simmered all the unanswered questions about our upcoming move, adding further to the weight of our load. 

The cracks were starting to show. Special events I’d normally enjoy had become ‘disruptions’ to my task list. I felt an alarming disconnection from our children—and at times even my husband. Some nights I lay in the darkness, my whirring mind, ringing ears and aching head all screaming, ‘Stop!’ And the breathlessness I’d battled during our last major move was rearing its awful head again.

We had reached the halfway mark in our online course, so the pace would slow in three more months. I was looking forward to that. But right now, my view of the finish line was obscured by so many hurdles, those three months looked more like three years.    

This was not how we wanted to live. We knew life was better with balance and breathing space. And yet . . . conviction rose in my spirit. ‘And yet I know You’ve called me to it.’ That one detail made all the difference. Yes, my body and soul were groaning, yearning for a return to easier days. But God was in this demanding season—we knew He was—which meant He must have a purpose in it and a way for us to walk through it. Didn’t He always?

Even while we loathed the busyness, our spirits were soaring in gratitude for all our Father was doing. These were exciting times—times of growth and equipping, ready to launch into new things. I nodded as I wrote, ‘God, I belong to You. My life is in Your hands. You are my God and I know You are good. Please fill me with Your Spirit and renew my strength in Your presence.’

I felt my heart begin to settle—as it always did when I surrendered. My gaze shifted to the previous page in my journal, where the day before I’d copied a contemporary translation of Psalm 23:6. 

‘So why would I fear the future? 

Only goodness and tender love pursue me all the days of my life. 

Then afterward, when my life is through, I’ll return to your glorious presence to be forever with you!’

(The Passion Translation, Psalm 26:3)

David’s bold declarations fuelled my flickering flame. Why should I fear the future? God was with me on this journey, eager to do me good. With Him by my side, I always had a reason to be confident. Even now.  

Below the verse I’d written some notes from further study, then recorded in red the words I sensed God speak. 

‘So, I am pursuing you now with my goodness and kindness. Hunting you down, running after you, ensuring you have all you need for each day. Look, see and give thanks and you will see more and more.

Don’t focus on areas that seem to be depleting. Fix your gaze on My face and expect to be satisfied in and by Me each day. I will always supply what you need as you seek to walk in My purposes.’

‘Look, see and give thanks and you will see more.’ I reread those words, underlining them, then flicked back a couple more pages, hunting for more red writing. A few entries earlier, I found, ‘My gifts are there for you every day. THANKSGIVING opens your eyes to see them.’

‘Give thanks and you will see more.’‘Thanksgiving opens your eyes to see My gifts.’ Mark Buchanan’s words from his book, ‘The Rest of God: Restoring Your Soul by Restoring Sabbath’, echoed through my mind: 

‘Ingratitude is an eye disease every bit as much as a heart disease.’ (emphasis mine) 

Did I have an eye disease, I wondered—a distorted view that magnified the negatives and was blind to God’s gifts in each day? If I did, something needed to change. 

The following week, unprompted, a mentor gave me this counsel: ‘Thanksgiving is vital to keeping your heart in a place of rest and sensitivity to God in this busy season. As you choose to give thanks, He’ll show you how to live by His grace.’

There it was again—thanksgiving. I’d already started scribing a few short lines of gratitude each day. But God was calling me to more, urging me to stop and really see. So, when our church began a 30-day fast, I chose to skip breakfast and spend longer in prayer. This gave me more time to reflect and thank God for His blessings. And as I did, I noticed the weight I’d been carrying begin to lift.  

Then came the morning I woke at 3am. For an hour, I lay still and quiet in the silence, wondering if I’d drift back to sleep. Finally, I saw my opportunity, climbed out of bed and shuffled to the lounge with my books.   

‘Thursday 11th August, 2022

3:55am.

Lord, I am yours. Thank you for your faithful love and readiness to teach me your ways. Keep working in my heart and mind and body, leading me through in your grace, truth and rest.’ Joy bubbled inside me, despite the early hour. God was doing so many wonderful things.  Now I had extra time to record them. I moved my pen to a new line.   

‘I’m thankful for . . .’

I began listing all the ways our family had been blessed in recent days, pausing between each point until another memory came to mind: a sunny rental home for an adult child; protection from injury in a car accident for another; some promising job interviews for our uni graduate; the warmth and generosity of our local mechanic when a car broke down; my husband’s loving support and listening ear when I was feeling low, and more. 

Once I’d covered that angle, my thanks continued to flow: my lovely, capable osteopath; some new opportunities for book sales; the daily challenges and opportunities of my work role; the wise words and loving prayers of my mentor, and my lifeline—the Bible.

The longer my list grew, the more I recognised God’s faithful care. By the time I finished, an hour had passed and I’d filled a whole page of my journal with reasons for gratitude. And my heart felt lighter—even a little bit hopeful. God was moving—protecting and providing, moulding us and directing our circumstances ready for the changes ahead.

Time didn’t always allow me to write such long lists. It was a few days before I wrote my next, shorter one. Several more slipped by before I wrote another. Over time, I developed a habit of writing a list most days. Sometimes I gave thanks for ‘basics’ like warmth, shelter, a comfortable bed, clean water and a kitchen full of food—luxuries we enjoy while so many people in the world don’t. On other days I wrote in awestruck detail of the way the practicalities of our move—large and small—were coming together. Worry and weariness began to fade, driven out by the light of hope, and I noticed a new spring in my step. God loved us. He was good. Just as He was faithful now, so we could expect Him to continue to lead us through.  

A year has passed since that pivotal time and I’m still writing lists—sometimes in my journal and often aloud as I tell others of God’s generosity and kindness. On my birthday in June, my husband described me as a woman who, ‘notices and celebrates every little thing’. He couldn’t have given me a greater compliment! On this path of thankfulness, I’m learning to see the good in every situation. And to understand that David’s words in Psalm 23:6 are more than just lovely poetry. They are a living reality. Every day, God passionately pursues each of us, ready to show us His goodness. 

The question is, are we stopping long enough to notice?

 

‘Surely your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life . . . ‘

Psalm 23:6

‘Those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.’

Isaiah 40:31

A Way Through the Valley

~ Susan Brown ~ 2 Comments

I sat on the couch and stared blankly out the window, my eyes blind to tiny green shoots sprouting everywhere in the garden—usually a cause for joy. Depression loomed over me like a black-robed villain, pressing down on my soul, while despair tightened its grasp. I was sinking—I could feel it. I leaned forward and put my face in my hands, keenly aware that the divide between me standing firm or falling was so fragile, there was almost no barrier to stop me plummeting.

For a moment, I teetered on the edge, wondering what would happen if I let depression take hold. I was justified, wasn’t I? Wouldn’t anyone be low in my position?

Three years ago, our family uprooted and left our home state of twenty-five years to move north. While we relished being closer to my family and living near the coast, the process of establishing our career paths and forming new friendships was slow, hampered further by the 2020 lockdown.

Once COVID restrictions eased, we dusted ourselves off and ventured forward again, keen to build on the small foundations we’d already laid. Doors of opportunity began to open and our sense of belonging was growing when, wham! Our second lockdown hit. This one lasted much longer and its impact reverberated all the way to the laws of our nation. This time, along with rules and restrictions a clear message was proclaimed, challenging our ideas about what matters most and dictating the way we should view and treat people. Like the ripples of an earthquake, we felt its effects as key aspects of who we were as Australians began to shake.

Normally, I’m an upbeat girl, ready to believe the best of people and hold hope of better days beyond a trial. It’s rare for me to find myself in a place so deep and dark, I can’t see any way out. Lately, though . . . well, it’s been tough. I won’t go into detail beyond saying there are significant changes happening in my sphere and I’m facing heartbreaking loss in several areas, particularly relationships. When I see the people around me also struggling, my grief is multiplied.

We didn’t see this upheaval coming, nor can we see where it will take us. Almost every day the information seems to change. If ever there was a time to be confronted with our powerlessness, it’s now. We cry out to God and use the strength He gives to make the best of our situation and support others. Sometimes, though, the constancy of the battle wears us down and its length stretches us far beyond what we think we can bear. Hope fades and the gloom becomes so heavy, it immobilizes us. That’s where I found myself on the couch that day—staring into a darkness so thick, it seemed as if it could swallow me whole. Oh, God.

Then, softly, like a light shining through the fog, I sensed an echo of my own words from a couple of months back:

Photo by Johannes Plenio on Pexels

‘The hardest of times became the high points in my life because of what God did through them.’

Those were words of hindsight, reflections on the darkest seasons in my journey. Through trauma, anorexia, relationship strains, burnout, life-threatening illness and tragic loss I’d felt God’s loving presence so close, known the wisdom of His counsel and seen His goodness poured out, even in the littlest details.

The hardest of times can become the best of times? Could that really be true in this situation?

Surely not this time, God. This is too big, too hard.

His response? You have a choice.

I paused, breathing deep. I did, didn’t I? I could let myself be pulled into the vortex of despair, or I could choose to put my hope in God and believe He would turn all of this—somehow—for good. Sitting up, I rubbed my hands against my legs and released a slow breath. I knew my emotions were shaky, far too weak to leap all the way from hopelessness to instant joy. I had a journey ahead—and from my former times of struggle I knew the steps I needed to take:

Photo by Hudson Hintze on Unsplash
  1. I asked for help

I picked up my phone and sent messages to my connect group leader, my church prayer team and a bunch of close friends, telling them how low I was and asking them to pray.

God puts us in community for our good. When we feel like we’re drowning, He urges us to confide in others, allowing them to lift us with their encouragement and prayers.  

‘Admit your faults to one another and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The earnest prayer of a righteous person has great power and wonderful results.’ James 5:16 TLB

2. I switched off the noise

Some words I’d been listening to offered hope. Others gave interesting information but stirred up anxiety and despair. I chose to switch off the second set.

When our emotions are too frail to deal objectively with negativity, we need to be vigilant, setting limits to protect our mind and heart.

‘Fix your thoughts on what is true and honourable and right and pure and lovely and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.’ Philippians 4:8 NLT

3. I simplified

I took a step back and chose to simplify what I could—clearing out clutter, putting aside big projects, giving myself time and space to rest.

Weary hearts and minds are easily overloaded. Sometimes we need to slow the pace for a while and just do the basics.

‘There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven.’ Ecclesiastes 3:1

4. I fixed my eyes

Once some of the mental and physical clutter had been cleared out, it was easier for me to define my focus. Again and again, I felt God urging me, ‘Fix your eyes on Me.’ So, again and again, I did. And every time I looked to Him, He brought new perspective to everything else.

No circumstance, person, disease or government determines the course of our lives. Above all, God is in control—and He is a good, loving Father.

‘Be still and know that I am God;

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth.’ Psalm 46:10

5. I nourished my spirit

Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

I spent extra time in God’s presence each morning, journaling and sitting quietly, chewing over portions of scripture and writing down verses He seemed to highlight. Like a starving child desperate for good food, I devoured every word that brought truth and perspective. Through the day I fed on the wisdom of others, listening to sermons and reading articles that built my faith.

God’s word is our food, His Spirit our life-giving water. To gain the strength we need for the path He’s marked out for us, we need to eat and drink daily from His provision.

‘When your words came, I ate them;

They were my joy and my heart’s delight . . .’ Jeremiah 15:16

6. I remembered God’s faithfulness

One day I listed in my journal the many trials of my past, each one so difficult I’d wondered if they would ever end. I remembered what God did, the profound truths He taught me and the way He led me all the way through—making me richer and wiser through the process.

The trials we face don’t last forever. They have a beginning and an endpoint. How we come out of them depends on how we go through them. If we’re willing to yield to God’s refining and receive His guidance on the way, He’ll work it all for good in our lives.

‘Consider it pure joy . . . whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance.’ James 1:3

7. I let go

Finally, after dealing with all the other issues, I realised how entangled I’d become in all my imaginings of what might or might not happen. My attempts to figure and plan had woven a tight web around my soul, pinching me with disappointment and despair whenever circumstances didn’t work out as I’d hoped.

God alone could see the future.

Just as He was with me now, He would be with me in the days to come, supplying all I needed at every point along the way. To try to do His job was a waste of time and energy.

So, I surrendered.

I laid down my need to know how God was going to work everything out.

I chose to trust Him, believing He would bring me through and take care of me on the way.

I chose to take one day at a time, fixing my eyes on His face, following His nudges and giving my best to the people around me.

Scrawling that prayer of surrender in my journal brought great release, lightening the burden I’d been carrying and giving me freedom to focus on each day as a gift. It didn’t fix everything—our world is still in turmoil. But I find I’m more able to manage the fluctuations between anxiety and confidence, sadness and thankfulness by choosing to stay anchored in the truth that is stronger than my feelings:

This season won’t last forever.

God’s promises are true.

He is with us and, if we keep our eyes on Him, He’ll show us the way through—choice by choice—for however long it takes to come out the other side.

Photo by Chang Duong on Unsplash

And when we emerge from this battle,

we’ll be closer to God,

stronger in His truth and

more confident in His sufficiency

than we were at the beginning.

‘And we know that in all things, God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.’ Romans 8:28