I’m walking through something really painful with someone I love so much. My tears are flowing alongside them and my heart is aching. And in the midst of it, I WANT to have answers to offer them, or some kind of comfort. And I don’t.

I don’t understand why there are babies all over the world with no mom and dad. I don’t understand why Adam had a stroke. I don’t understand why Isaiah has such a literal broken heart. I don’t understand why some people struggle with depression their whole lives or why innocent people are hurt. I don’t understand the pain that is literally all around me. And it would be so easy to just give.up.on.God’s.goodness. Give up on God’s promises. But I haven’t. Because this is what I do know . . . That in our darkest nights, our most broken places, our deepest cries, HE IS NEAR. In the tears running down our cheeks, in the gulps of air leaving our mouth, in our knees and hands gripping the floor. HE IS NEAR. When everything in our world is shaky, He is our solid, our immovable. He is the rock on which we rest. When everything is broken and messed up, He is our Redeemer and Restorer. When we walk through our longest, hardest valleys, He is our mountaintop. When we are filled with our deepest uncertainties and searching for answers, He is our always faithful.

In the darkest of nights, in the middle of a broken land, in the midst of hundreds of years of silence, an ever-present babe was born in a manger. And they called him Jesus, Emmanuel, GOD WITH US. And that promise remains true every single day of the year.

And Jesus never shied away from pain or turned from broken hearted people. He was near them. He walked with them. He lived with them. He taught them. He loved them. He healed them. And He is near us. His love always holds true. His goodness remains, a gritty beacon we can hold fast to. A determination we can rest our hopes on. A steadfast promise that remains true EVEN STILL.

And so like David, fearing for his life alone in a cave; like Hannah ashamed and desperately longing for a child; like the woman at the well, broken, discarded and longing to belong, we can raise our eyes and our hearts to the sky. We can lift a weary arm and whisper out a cracked praise with tears on our cheeks. And we can know that He.is.here. Emmanuel.

If you’re like me, 2020 has shown where my heart fails me. We have chosen to quarantine for Isaiah on the recommendation of his cardiologist and we just entered our seventh month of hardcore quarantine. And I am heart-weary and worn out. It’s easy to gloss over my mess ups when I’m running from thing to thing and staying busy. It’s easy to feel supported when you’re surrounded by friends, family, and your church. But take those all away, and I’ve been frustrated, off balance, and impatient. I LOVE all the time the five of us have had together- we are definitely the family who can be together 24/7 and be happy- but I miss my extended family, I miss doing things, I miss church, I just miss feeling like life is normal. And in the midst of this, I’ve seen just how deceitful the heart can be.

Because in the midst of my shortcomings, I’ve felt deep shame. I’ve frantically searched for ways I could make things better: new supplements, a different bible reading plan, a different schedule, more yoga?? And each day, as these things haven’t worked, I’ve felt my frustration and discouragement deepen. And yet, I continued on to the next thing and the next thing and the next thing. I was too embarrassed to bring it to God. I couldn’t believe that after THIS LONG, this many years of loving Him, I was still messing up. Somewhere in my heart, I believed He was frustrated with me.

Then, last night, while I was cleaning the bathroom (He really can meet you anywhere), I gave up. I cried to Him. I admitted my failures. I admitted my deep shame. And HIS GRACE WASHED OVER ME. He didn’t heap shame or accusations on my heart. He didn’t remind me of all the times I’d failed before. He filled my heart with grace upon grace; generous, lavish, crazy grace. Grace that I don’t deserve. Grace that I definitely didn’t earn. He reminded me of His love for me. Of what the Cross did for me. Of what Jesus is to me. And He reminded me of the prodigal son: the one who was welcomed with a running embrace and a huge party! God isn’t waiting to punish us every time we mess up, He isn’t waiting to throw accusations at us; He’s waiting to sweep us up in His gracious arms, give us new mercies each morning, and to fill in our gaps. Our hearts will always fail us but He never will. If 2020 has brought you to your knees, look up and be overwhelmed with His never-ending grace. Look up to the One who knit you together, who knows you intricately, and who loves you deeply. Look up to the One who’s waiting, with open arms, to hold you up when you falter and to catch your tears when you cry. When we stumble, He sustains. He is the God of the mountaintops AND the deep valleys, the God of joy and sorrow. In the best of days or the hardest of years, He always holds true.