NACR Daily Meditation - February
 

February 1

When you pass through the waters,
I will be with you;
and when you pass through the rivers,
they will not sweep over you.
Isaiah 43:2

There are times in the recovery process when it feels like we will drown in sorrow. The losses, the betrayals, the failures threaten to overwhelm us. The intensity of the emotional pain frightens us in times like this. We feel ourselves loosing ground as life swirls around us.

This text states with great clarity two central truths which are critical to our survival in times like this. First, God has made a very specific promise to us. God says "I will be with you." This may not always be what we want. We may want God to take the floods of life away. We may want God to build dams upstream in life so that the danger of flood is diminished. But, God's promise is clear. I will be with you.

Secondly, this text says very clearly "When you pass through the waters, they will not sweep over you." God will protect us and see us through. There are times in recovery when there just doesn't seem to be any way to make it. Nothing is more painful in these times than to have someone who stands at a distance express optimism about our recovery in a way that minimizes the struggle. ["Oh, you're going to be fine. Stop worrying about it."] Conversely, nothing is more valuable in these times than to have someone with us who sees the danger clearly but who is able to be hopeful for us and protect us and see us through

For your promise to be with me in the floods of life, God,
I give you thanks.
Help me to sense your presence.
For your hopefulness about my recovery,
I give you thanks.
Help me to share in your hope.
You are Life-Preserver to me, God.
Thank you.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 2

I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths
I will guide them, I will turn the darkness into light before them and make
the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake
them.
Isaiah 42:16

God leads blind people along unfamiliar paths. God promises to make rough places smooth for sightless and disoriented people. God will not forsake them.

During recovery we often feel sightless and disoriented. Our abilities to see clearly are often very limited - we don't have enough distance on things to give proper perspective. Denial leaves us blind. Rejected emotions and ignored human needs can also contribute to spiritual and psychological blindness.

So many things in recovery are unfamiliar to us. We are not accustomed to feeling what we feel, to talking about our experiences, or to trusting other people. Honesty is new territory for us. All of this is not only unfamiliar territory, it is scary territory as well.

But it is exactly to people like us that God makes promises. God makes promises to sightless and disoriented people. God will guide. God will give light. God will smooth the rough places. God will not abandon.

I can't see very well, Lord.
I certainly am not familiar with this path, Lord.
Are you sure you know where this leads?
This feels like a pretty rough trail to me, Lord.
Are you sure we can make it?

Be my guide, Lord, I am afraid.
I would be lost without you.
I cannot find my way alone.
Guide me, Lord.
Turn darkness into light.
Make the rough places smooth.
Do not forsake me.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 3

"I will set out and go back to my father and say to him: 'Father, I
have sinned against heaven and against you. I am no longer worthy to be
called your son'. . . But while he was still a long way off, his father
saw him and was filled with compassion for him."
Luke 15:18-20

It is difficult to think and feel about ourselves in Godly ways. Many of us think that the prodigal son got it right. He had a well-practiced speech: "I am no longer worthy". How like our speeches to ourselves! If you hear about your unworthiness often enough, especially in childhood, and if you internalize the speech thoroughly, it becomes a part of you. Many of us know this particular speech so well that we can feel unworthy for no particular reason. We do not feel unworthy because of something we have done or said. We feel unworthy because of who we are. Many of us even think that the more unworthy we feel, the more likely the Father will be to welcome us back home!

But the Father responds quite differently from the prodigal's expectations. The Father was 'filled with compassion' and he ran to his son and he kissed him. When the prodigal finally got his speech out, the Father did not spend time arguing the point. Instead he 'honored' the son with a robe, a ring and a feast. He treated the prodigal in ways designed to build a very different kind of self understanding.

Our goal is to learn to think and feel about ourselves in ways that are consistent with the way God thinks and feels about us. God's perspective is a surprising contrast to our own. God does not join our internal chorus which is so persistent at proclaiming our unworthiness. Instead God says "You are my child. You are loved!"

Lord, I have not learned to think and feel about myself in healthy ways.
Teach me to think and feel about myself
in ways that are consistent with the way you think and feel about me!
Help me to listen when you say "I love you".
Help me to take it in.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 4

Many are saying of me, "God will not deliver him." But you are
a shield around me, O Lord; you bestow glory on me and lift up my head.
Psalm 3:2-3

We receive messages about ourselves from the important people in our lives. We internalize these messages and carry them with us, repeating them to ourselves as if they were gospel truth. When the messages are shaming messages then the internal chorus chants "You are not lovable. You are beyond repair. Even God cannot help you."

This chorus is a chorus of lies. The psalmist rejects these lies. And we need to begin to reject these lies as well.

The Lord is a "shield around me", the psalmist says. A shield protects. It comes between the blows of an enemy and a person's vulnerable places. Most shields are small and can only protect a limited area from attack. But the shield which the Lord provides completely surrounds us. We can let this shield protect us from these attacking messages.

The psalmist also says that the Lord "bestows glory on me and lifts up my head". Heavy burdens of shame, neglect and abuse have bowed our heads. The Lord listens, pays attention and cares about us. God's love counters the voices of our internal shame-chorus so that we can lift our heads. God replaces our shame with glory. It is a picture of a ragged, neglected child whose head is bowed and shoulders are bent. A king sees the child and goes to him. The king gently lifts the child's chin until his eyes meet his own smiling eyes. He asks the child to come home and live as royalty with him. The child is loved, honored, protected. You are the child. God lifts your head and bestows glory.

God help me to stop listening to lies about you.
Help me to stop listening to lies about me.
Be a shield around me.
Bestow glory.
Lift up my head.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 5

I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are
wonderful, I know that full well.
Psalm 139:14

We are God's creation. God made us. And what God makes is wonderful.

This may sound pretty obvious, but we probably need to remind ourselves that it is not everything-and-everybody-except-me that is wonderfully made. It is everything-and-everybody-including-me that is fearfully and wonderfully made by God.

When we have learned to see ourselves as people without value, when we have internalized contempt as the basis for our personal identity, it is difficult to see ourselves as one of God's wonderful works.

But you are one of God's wonderful works. You are precious to God. You are a unique, irreplaceable expression of God's creative love.

It is good to praise God for making us. It is good to see ourselves as a reason for thanksgiving and awe. God made our minds, our emotions, our needs, our bodies, our creativity, our longings, our hopes. God is a marvelous creator who made us wonderfully.

You are one of God's wonderful works. You can praise God that he made you wonderfully.

Thank you,
Creator God,
that you made me.
and that all that you make is wonderful
including me.
Amen

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 6

Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns,
and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable
then they?
Matthew 6:26

Many of us learn early in life that we need to earn our sense of value. For some, value was earned by entertaining people with our clowning acts. For others, value came from taking care of everyone else. And for others, value was derived from achieving success of some kind. But often there is no way to entertain enough, take care enough or achieve enough to meet our needs for approval. No matter how compulsively we entertain, or care or work, we still are not able to feel valued. These substitutes do not meet the deepest longings of our heart. In addition we run the risk of becoming compulsively attached to these substitutes because we fear that the sense of value which they offer is our only hope of finding peace.

The longing to experience ourselves as valued is a fundamental human need. The need is really a need to be heard, seen, enjoyed and loved by others for who we are rather than for what we do. No amount of earned approval can meet this need. We long to know that we have value simply because we exist. This kind of value cannot be earned, it must be received as a gift.


Jesus says to us "you are valuable. Simply because you are, you are valuable". The birds of the air are God's creatures. God sees them and cares for them. God made them and God enjoys them. They are valuable. You, too, are God's creation, made and known by God. God sees you and cares for you. You are of great value.

As we grow in our awareness that our true value is a gift already given to us by God, we can begin to let go of the tight hold we have on our substitute strategies for achieving worth.

Father, you know how attached
I have become to earning my sense of value.
But, I can never seem to work hard enough.
Thank you, Creator God,
for valuing the birds of the air.
Thank you, Creator God,
for valuing me.
Help me to receive this good gift from you.
Help me to see myself as valuable in your eyes.
Amen

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 7

Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine.
Isaiah 43:1

Abandoned. Neglected. Alone.

Many of us share these painful struggles. Unfortunately, many of us have struggled with them from very early in life. People from dysfunctional families often feel that they were never acceptable to their parents. Many struggle with the feeling that they can never be good enough to receive attention. If reinforced by rejection or abandonment from friends, colleagues, or other significant people in our lives, we can easily conclude that we don't really 'belong' at all.

Humans have a deep longing to belong, to be emotionally bonded with others. Social isolation can be very painful to us. But social isolation may have felt like the only option open to us as children. Attempts at closeness may have meant experiencing control, abuse, rejection or loss. We may have pulled away to protect ourselves, even though it left us lonely and afraid.

God comes to our lonely, anxious hearts and whispers our name. God says "I see both the fear you have of closeness and the deep longing you have to belong. I have come to comfort you and to respond to your need. I have been seeking relationship with you. You belong. You belong to me. You are my child."

It may frighten us - this invitation to belong to God - even though we long for it. It may frighten us because we expect pain and disappointment, over-control and rejection. But gradually, as we continue the healing process, we can allow God to meet this deep need. We can allow ourselves to belong more and more to God.

Help me, God,
to allow myself to belong to you.
Thank you for calling me by name.
Thank you for saying 'you are mine'.
I want to belong to you, God.
Help me to heal, Great Physician,
So that I can accept my place in your family.
Take away my fear, Father,
give me the courage to belong to you.
Amen

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 8

For we are God's workmanship, created in Christ Jesus to do good works,
which God prepared in advance for us to do.
Ephesians 2:10

God is a very capable craftsman. God's workmanship is of the highest quality. We are God's workmanship. We are the art of a competent Creator.

Notice in this text that our creation 'in Christ Jesus' means that we are competent as well. We are like our Creator in that we have been created 'to do good works'. God who is capable of good works made us to be capable of doing good works as well.

This is quite a contrast to 'you can't do anything right'. In dysfunctional families and institutions people learn to doubt their competence. This doubt leads many people to work harder and harder to demonstrate their abilities. In dysfunctional systems, however, no matter how hard we try, we can't try hard enough. We learn that our problem is not that we are human and occasionally make mistakes but that we are incompetent people. We learn that we are flawed in a most basic way. No matter how compulsively we try, we can't ever get it right.

This text is an affirmation of our competence, of our importance in God's plans. God affirms us by saying "there are good things for you to do, and I believe you can do them". Notice that the text does not say that we need to do good works to earn God's love or to win God's approval or that we have to do the work perfectly or compulsively. What is does say is that God sees each of us as capable of good works. God invites us to participate in the creative, redemptive work that God is doing in the world. God sees us as capable.

You are competent, God.
Your works are good works.
It amazes me that you see me as competent.
Thank you for believing in me.
Help me to trust your words of affirmation.
Help me to find joy in doing good.
Amen

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 9

This then is how we know that we belong to the truth, and how we set our
hearts at rest in his presence whenever our hearts condemn us. For God is
greater than our hearts, and he knows everything.
I John 3:19-20

Sometimes it is difficult to believe that we 'belong to the truth'. Sometimes it is difficult to imagine having our 'hearts at rest'. The part of our heart that is damaged by shame reminds us of all our inadequacies and failures. As this text puts it, our hearts condemn us.

In the process of recovery many of us become aware that we have internalized a voice of shame and self-condemnation. We may tell ourselves that we are unlovable. "How could anyone care about me?" Or, we may tell ourselves that we are worthless. "I'm no good." Or, we may tell ourselves that we are not capable. "I can't do anything right." These are some of the ways we condemn ourselves. We also may question our faith. We may wonder, as this verse puts it, whether "we belong to the truth". Because of our early experiences of rejection and our current self-condemnation, we find ourselves expecting God to condemn us. As a result we cannot rest in God's presence.

But God is greater than our self-condemning hearts. God knows everything. God knows our history. God knows the wounds in our past. God knows our humanness. God knows our strengths and weaknesses. God knows our failures. God knows we condemn ourselves and expect that God will condemn us as well. God knows that we need healing.

God is greater than our self-condemning hearts. God knows everything. And God does not condemn us.

I long to set my heart at rest, Lord.
I long to rest in your presence.
But, my heart is full of self-condemnation.
The voices of shame are loud within me.

I am afraid that you will also condemn me, Lord.
I am afraid that you will agree with the shame voices.

Speak to me today, Lord.
Speak more loudly than the voices of shame.
Be greater than my heart.
Shame can only feed on the hidden things, Lord,
but nothing is hid from you.
Be more powerful than the shame, Lord.
Let me find rest today in your love.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 10

As a father has compassion on his children, so the Lord has compassion on those who fear him; for he knows how we are formed, he remembers that we are dust.
Psalm 103:13-14


We are not very understanding or tolerant of our limitations. We forget how we are 'formed'. Instead of accepting our creatureliness as a good gift from God, we often find ourselves being harshly judgmental and unforgiving of ourselves. This lack of compassion can lead to self-abusive and self-neglectful behaviors. When we forget how we are formed, we can forget to take care of such creaturely basics as sleep, decent food and relaxation.

Fortunately, God does not forget how we are formed. God remembers. God knows we have limitations. God remembers that we are 'dust'. Because we are so intolerant of our limits, it is important to emphasize that the metaphor 'dust' in this text does not imply worthless. It is not that God remembers how worthless we are - just dust to be sweep up and thrown away . Quite to the contrary, God remembers our weakness and limitations and has compassion on us. Again, because we are so intolerant of our limits, it is also probably important to emphasize that 'compassion' is not 'pity'. God does not pity us poor, pathetic, helpless mortals. Quite to the contrary, God's compassion is the tender, loving care of a good parent towards a child.

God knows and respects our limitations. They are not a surprise to God. God is our Creator. God remembers what we tend to forget. God remembers that we are creatures.


Thank you, Lord, for remembering what I forget.
You remember that I am human,
that I need to sleep,
that I need to play,
that I have limited strength and ability.
Thank you for having reasonable expectations of me.
Thank you for understanding my limits.
Help me to be compassionate with my humanness
Even as you, Lord,
are compassionate toward me.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 11

"We have here only five loaves of bread and two fish," they answered.
"Bring them here to me," he said.
Matthew 14:17-18

Sometimes after reading the newspaper or watching the news on television we experience an intensely painful awareness of the enormity of the world's problems and the hopeless inadequacy of the resources available to solve these problems. During recovery we often experience these same feelings of helplessness and inadequacy. Our personal problems seem enormous. Our resources seem incredibly limited. Part of our denial comes from our desire to avoid recognizing that our personal problems are bigger than our personal resources. We will need resources more extensive than our own to make any progress in recovery.

Fortunately, God has a long and consistent history of working with people who have limited resources. It has been God's consistent pattern throughout the biblical record. God's preference is to bring strength out of weakness. The abundance which God brings from a few loaves and fishes is a clear sign of the surprising resource-full-ness of God. God does not seem to be at home among the well-nourished, the resourced, the un-needy. In a reversal of all of our expectations, God comes to the needy and limited with invitations to participate in the Kingdom.

When we see how few loaves and fishes we have, we become convinced that our needs for nourishment will not be met. And we conclude that there will be nothing left over to share. But the hopelessly limited resources somehow turn into abundance when offered to God. There is enough for us and enough to share. Each day, one day at a time, God accepts our limited resources and surprises us with what can be done.


I am hungry, Lord.
I have not been getting the nourishment I need.
What I have is so limited.
A few loaves.
A few fish.
There will not be enough to go around.


I cannot imagine what use they will be
but I make my limited resources available to you.
Accept my limited resources, Lord.
I bring them to you for your blessing.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 12

"I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!"
Mark 9:24


We live somewhere between belief and unbelief. Our faith wavers. At times faith is strong and stable. At times it is weak, and shaken.

For many of us, our capacity for trust has been diminished by experiences with people who were not trustworthy. We have learned by painful experience that we will be disappointed if we trust. One of the most intense struggles in recovery is to rebuild our capacity for trust and hope. We want to believe, but we are afraid.

Some people believe that God will respond only to people who 'believe enough'. "If you have enough faith, God will hear you," they say. But Jesus said "All you need is faith the size of a mustard seed." The mustard is the smallest of seeds. God does not reject small, limited faith. God will not ignore even the desire to believe. God will not dismiss a willingness to learn to trust. Mountains have been moved by less. God accepts our limited faith.

God does not ask us to wait until we are certain and strong in faith. God accepts us as we are, even with our limited faith.


Lord, you see my struggle to believe,
to trust,
and to hope.
You know my fears,
my hesitations,
my questions.
Help me to accept the limits of my faith.
Help me to bring my limited faith to you.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 13

Trembling and bewildered, the women went out and fled from the tomb. They
said nothing to anyone, because they were afraid.
Mark 16:8


The most reliable early manuscripts of the Gospel of Mark end with this verse. Mark's version of the Good News ends with this very high drama. Just at the point in the story where we might have expected to find rejoicing, we find fear. The women are afraid. Just at the point where we might have expected confidence, we find uncertainty. The women are bewildered. What a remarkable thing that the people chosen by God to be the first messengers of the Good News were too frightened and bewildered to speak! God chose to entrust the future of the Kingdom to people with limited courage.

God knows our courage is limited. He knows that fear can immobilize us. God does not shame us for being afraid. God has trusted people with this kind of limit in the past. God does not need us to have unshakable faith.

The women in this text did eventually speak. Courage was granted to them. Fears faced without shame will lose their power to immobilize us. God knows that fear is part of our human condition. Our fears do not keep God from entrusting us to be message bearers of Good News.


Thank you, Lord,
for entrusting the Kingdom
to the tired and traumatized.
Thank you for accepting me
and my limited courage.
Help me today to accept my limits, Lord.
Help me to give my fears to you.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 14

"When I went to Troas to preach the gospel of Christ and found that
the Lord had opened a door for me, I still had no peace of mind, because
I did not find my brother Titus there. So I said good-by to them and went
on to Macedonia."
2 Corinthians 2:12-13


Paul was a missionary writing to a congregation that had mixed feelings about his ministry. Under these circumstances we might reasonably expect him to defend himself. We might expect him to say 'Things are going great! Open doors! Packed stadiums! Now on several continents! Soon on satellite to the whole planet!" But he doesn't say that. He tells the truth. "There was an open door, but I had no peace of mind". Paul chooses to do honest, straight, appropriate, risky self-disclosure. "I was anxious and lonely and it effected my ability to work. I could not minister to others because I was too needy." Paul rejects the 'superstar' or 'hero' model for ministry. "I can't do this alone," he was saying, "I need Titus".

Like Paul, we have limits in our work and ministry. God does not ask us to be superheros. We may wish for this out of a deep need for approval, but it is not what God asks of us. Like Paul, we will have open doors that we will not be able to respond to because we are too tired, or too anxious, or too lonely. It is part of the reality of being human. God understands these kinds of limits.


Lord, I want to do it all.
I want to be a superhero.
But I am so limited.
Give me the grace to be honest.
Give me the courage to admit my loneliness and anxiety.
Give me the courage to admit my exhaustion.
Give me the grace to be human.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 15

Be still, and know that I am God.
Psalm 46:10


We need to be reminded that we are not God.

This seems pretty basic. You wouldn't think it would be hard to remember. But we get so caught up in proving ourselves by performing, achieving and rescuing that we forget that we are humans with real limits. We fill our time so full of frenzied activity that there is no 'stillness'. And when there is no stillness, it is hard to remember who is God and who is not.

Fortunately, God does not forget who is God and who is not. God invites us to quiet ourselves, to slow ourselves down. God invites us to be still long enough to regain perspective. "Be still", God says, "and know that I am God."

In the stillness we can see again that there is a difference between our frenzy and God's kingdom. It is God's work to provide and protect and rescue. It is not our work. We can do our part. But our part needs to be respectful of our human limits. Our part needs to actively acknowledge our dependence on God. God is God, and we are not.


Help me to slow down, Lord.
Help me to be quiet.
Help me to be still long enough to remember that you are God.
Help me to remember who is creature and who is Creator.
Let this truth free me, Lord, to accept my limits,
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 16

Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord; O Lord, hear my voice. Let you ears
be attentive to my cry for mercy.
Psalms 130:1-2


Grief is often experienced as being 'in the depths'. Sometimes it feels like we have been swallowed up by grief. Our bodies ache. Our minds can't focus. Our hearts feel like they will break.

Our cry for help during times of grief may seem desperate and feeble. We want to believe that God hears us. We want to believe that God is attentive to our pain. But we feel uncertain.

One of the most difficult experiences during seasons of grief is feeling as if our crys for help fall on deaf ears. Like the psalmist, we find ourselves pleading with God to pay attention. God, who may have seemed so present and attentive when our pain was less intense, can seem strangely absent just when we need God most. When we are in the most pain, we are often least able to experience God's loving presence.

This subjective experience of God's inattentiveness can be terrifying. But it can also be the starting point for growing a deeper and more meaningful faith. A faith that has found the courage to honestly face these experiences of God's absence will be a transformed faith. A faith that has survived a season of grief will have experienced the realities of the spiritual life at a much deeper level. From experiences of this kind we can learn to give up simplistic spiritualities. We can learn to pray with more honesty and integrity.


Can you see me, God?
Can you hear me?
Listen!
Pay attention!
I am calling to you for help.
I am overwhelmed with sorrow.
Have mercy on me.
Hear my cry for help.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 17

A voice is heard in Ramah, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for
her children and refusing to be comforted, because they are no more.
Matthew 2:18


There are times when there is no consolation for grief. There is no comfort. In these times we feel that those who try to comfort us do not understand the vastness of our pain. All we know, all we see, is the terrible loss we have suffered. The world feels as if it should stop. Nothing matters but our loss.

We weep and rage and long for the return of what we have lost.

This happened to many of the families living in Bethlehem at the time of Jesus' birth. In hopes of killing the Messiah, Herod ordered that male child under two years old in that town be put to death. It was into this world of violence and terror that Jesus was born. The Christmas story is not a fairy tale with happy endings, but a story about real life and terrible loss.

There are times in our lives for weeping without comfort, for weeping with anguish and rage. God has come before into times like this. God comes as well into our times of anguish and rage. Because God comes there will eventually be a time to be comforted. And a time to heal. And a time to go on.

But there is a time to weep. It cannot be rushed, or bypassed. There is a time for weeping.


God, hold me when I weep,
when I refuse comfort,
when I cannot see beyond this pain.
Give me courage to grieve deeply, Lord.
Help me to tolerate the silence,
as I wait for you to speak.
Help me to survive the loneliness
as I await your coming.
Help me to grieve in ways
that draw me closer to you.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 18

He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows, and familiar with
suffering.
Isaiah 53:3


Many people have the impression that good Christians are happy, joyful, victorious people. In this fantasy, good Christians are people whose problems seem to vanish when they trust God and pray about it. Unaffected by the pain of life, these relentlessly cheerful people read the Bible, sing praise songs and feel no pain.

Yet Christians are at heart the followers of a man who was named 'man of sorrows.' Jesus was not relentlessly cheerful. He did not practice a mood altering, pain-numbing religion. He grieved. He wept. He was familiar with suffering. Our God is a God who knows suffering. God grieves.


In those times when we shame ourselves for our sorrow, it can be an enormous encouragement to remember that God is personally familiar with grief. If God grieves, we can expect to do the same.


God, you surprise me again!
When I grieve, I think that if I could just cheer up,
you would be pleased.
But, you grieve also.
Man of Sorrows you are acquainted with sorrow.
Thank you for understanding.
Thank you for grieving.
Help me to experience your presence in my time of grief.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 18

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in
spirit.
Psalm 34:18


Many people are convinced that when they are brokenhearted, when they grieve deeply over their losses, that God is displeased. God is sometimes seen as a person who expects us to be happy even in the face of trauma and loss. God is someone who asks us to 'snap out of it' and 'cheer up'. As a result, we anticipate rejection rather than compassion.

How surprising it is to hear that the Lord is close to the brokenhearted! God does not expect cheerfulness. God does not reject us. God is compassionate and responsive. God is close - not far away.

In dysfunctional families difficult emotions often result in withdrawal and isolation. It is this kind of emotional distance that we now expect from God. It is not always easy to trust God to be close to us when we are brokenhearted. And it is not always easy to allow ourselves the vulnerability of such closeness. But God is eager to heal us, to restore us and to save us when our spirits are crushed.


When I was angry, Lord,
I was sent to my room.
"Don't come out until you have a smile on your face!"
When I was sad, Lord
I was told to cheer up.
"Just snap out of it!"


Now I expect to be abandoned, Lord.
I expect to be left alone with my pain.
I expect to be lonely in my brokenness.


When I am broken hearted,
When I am crushed in spirit,
Help me to rest in your promise to be close.
Help me to rest in your promise to save.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 20

He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.
Isaiah 40:29


Grief is exhausting. Physically we are fatigued. Mentally we are spent. Emotionally we are drained. Spiritually we are crushed. Weariness seems to cast a shadow over all of life. We drag through the days. We are without strength and without power.

Our bodies need to be refreshed with sleep and recreation. Our minds need to be stimulated with hopeful thoughts about our future. Our hearts need to be soothed. Our spirits need to be infused with a desire to engage in life again.

God comes to us in the weariness and weakness of grief with gifts of strength and power. God does not shame us for our weakness. God does not reject us for being too weary to function. We may be tempted to refuse God's gifts either because we want to pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps, or because we don't believe we are entitled to receive good gifts. But, nevertheless, God offers us good gifts in seasons of grief. God offers strength and power. When we can admit our need and are ready to be honored by the Giver of these gifts, they can be ours.


I am weary, Lord.
Sometimes I think I am suppose to stay weary.
I do not feel entitled to be strong.
And sometimes I want to manage without your help.
I don't feel that I deserve help.


Thank you for your offer of strength and power.
Give me strength today.
Give me the power I need to make it through this day.
Give me the grace to accept your gifts.
Strengthen and empower me as I grieve today.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 21

Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.
Matthew 5:4


Jesus pronounced a blessing on people who are courageous enough to grieve. Nothing could be more surprising than this. When we grieve, we often feel like spiritual failures. But God sees things differently. From God's perspective, mourning is valued. It is an occasion for blessing. It comes with the opportunity for comfort.

To be comforted is to be held in the safety of arms you trust. To be comforted is to weep and rage in the company of someone who loves us. The hard edges of the pain are soothed. Strength and hope return in some measure. Healing begins.

Grieving is a commitment to the hard work of facing reality and allowing ourselves to feel the full range of emotions God has given us. It is painful work. But it is work that is blessed by God.


Father of comfort,
you are my refuge and strength,
my help in times of trouble.
Were it not for your faithfulness,
I would hide from my pain.
I would choose not to see my losses.
I would not be able to face what has happened.
Man of sorrow, teach me to grieve.
Give me the courage to mourn
so that I can be comforted.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 22

Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though
the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food, though there are no
sheep in the pen and no cattle in the stalls, yet I will rejoice in the
Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior.
Habakkuk 3:17-18


Sometimes it feels like life is the experience of loss upon loss. There are times when losses are all we can see. We are like this farmer taking inventory. The figs, the grapes, the olive crop, and the wheat are all lost. The sheep and the cattle are gone. There is nothing left, and nothing to hope for. In times like this we are in danger of believing that fear and sorrow are our only companions.

If the inventory of our lives stopped here, then all would be lost. We would be without hope. But there is more to the story of our lives than our inventory of losses can ever show. We can return again to the hope that God is bigger than all of the losses of life. No matter how long our inventory of losses may be, we can find in God a peace and hope that reshapes our struggle. The losses do not magically disappear. But, when we turn our hearts toward God, we know again that there is more to our life story than losses. We do not want the bottom line of our life's story to read "this was a person who experienced many losses". As each day we turn our hearts again to God, we are writing a life story that will end with "though the losses were painful, this was a person who found deep joy in God's love."


Lord, my losses are many.
Help me not to pretend about them.
Help me to grieve, Lord.
But help me as well to turn my heart toward you.
Even as I grieve,
help me to find
joy in you.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 23

It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. But go and learn
what this means: 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' For I have not come to
call the righteous, but sinners.
Matthew 9:12


One of the most remarkable features of the human condition is our capacity to pretend that we are healthy when our lives are in total chaos.

We work hard to cover up our problems and flaws in our character. We will sacrifice almost anything to keep from facing the truth about ourselves. We work this hard to look good because we experience our human needs, limits and failures with deep shame - a shame that drives us to strive harder and harder to look better and better. We sacrifice our serenity, our relationships, our sanity on the altar of perfectionism. We also sacrifice any possibility of getting the help we need by continuing to insist that "we can handle it."

God does not ask such sacrifices from us. God has no need for us to be perfect. Jesus speaks to us gently but very clearly about this issue. He confronts our pretense, shame and perfectionistic strivings. He says in effect "you do not have to sacrifice yourself in this way. You do not have to drive yourself like this. I desire mercy, not sacrifice. I want you to learn to be mercy-full to yourself. Be compassionate with yourself. It will free you to accept your need of healing. It will allow you to acknowledge your longing for me."

Jesus was saying "I did not come to pass out blue ribbons to the people who have all the answers and have worked hard to prove themselves. I came to bring hope and healing to people who know they need help." We can stop shaming and condemning ourselves because God does not shame or condemn us. God knows our brokenness, our pain, our need. We can give up our attempts to prove ourselves and acknowledge our need for help and healing.


Lord, I don't want to be needy.
I want to be strong for you.
But, I can't sustain the pretense any longer
I have nothing to show for all my efforts to look good.
All I have done is shut you out of my life.


Today I acknowledge my need for you, Lord.
I need your healing and your forgiveness.
I am not healthy.
I need a doctor.
I need you.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 24

One who was there had been an invalid for thirty eight years. When Jesus
saw him lying there and learned that he had been in this condition a long
time he asked him, "Do you want to get well?"
John 5:5-6


Do you want to get well?! What a shocking question. Isn't the answer obvious? Why even ask?

One of the most confusing parts of the recovery process is the fact that we have many layers of resistance to recovery. As we begin to see the changes which recovery will demand, we begin to see how attached we have become to our existing way of life. Sometimes we play games to hold on to the past. We have a good friend who prayed early in recovery that God would deliver her from alcoholism so that she could continue to drink! We are all like this - we want healing but we fear the changes which healing will bring.

Sometimes the fear of recovery comes from the fact that we can't imagine any way of being in the world other than what we have known. A life consumed with despair, rage and self-loathing may seem pretty awful, but its the only life we may have known. Any change may seem risky and uncertain.

God is not ignorant of our resistance to healing. God asks the difficult question: "Do you want to get well?" It's not always as obvious as it seems. The 12-Steps of Alcoholics Anonymous addresses this issue when it talks about being "entirely ready" for God to change us. The process of becoming "entirely ready" is at the heart of the struggle of recovery. Our hearts and minds are being prepared to answer 'yes' to God's offer of wholeness.


My answer to your question, Lord, is yes.
I am ambivalent at times.
I am uncertain and afraid at times.
But, I do want to get well.
The answer is yes.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 25

A man with leprosy came and knelt before him and said, "Lord, if you
are willing, you can make me clean." Jesus reached out his hand and
touched the man. "I am willing," he said. "Be clean!"
Immediately he was cured of his leprosy.
Matthew 8:2-3


There is a wonderful simplicity about this story - it summarizes a great deal of life in a few words. A man recognizes his need, comes, kneels, asks, is touched by Jesus and is cured. Many of us are living this story. We recognize our need. We come. We kneel. We ask. We await God's touch. We experience God's healing.

We would like our recovery to be just this simple. We want recognizing our need to be simple. We want our 'coming' to be simple. And we want our 'kneeling' to be simple. And we want our 'request' to be simple. And we want God's touch and healing to be immediate, tangible, simple.

There are, unfortunately, a few complications. For people who have lived in denial, 'recognizing our need', 'coming' and 'kneeling' are all major changes in the way we normally function. We have grown so accustomed to (and so attached to) our dysfunctions! So, recovery requires change. And change is always difficult - even when we call the change a 'healing.'

What is most helpful in this text is Jesus' clarity about his desires for us. Those of us who have been damaged by shame can expect to be uncertain about God's desires for us. Jesus is clear that it is God's desire for us to be healed. Our Healer wants to give us the gift of wholeness. When we recognize our illness and we 'come' and 'kneel' and 'ask', then there is no uncertainty in Jesus' response. He says "I am willing for you to be free of this affliction. I want health and joy for you.


I'm not sure you want to heal me, Lord.
Are you willing?
Or are you eager to punish?
Are you the god-of-impossible-expectations?
Are you pleased when I suffer?
Or are you willing to heal me?
I need healing, Lord.
But, more than healing, I need you.
Help me today to experience your desire to heal.
Help me today to experience your eagerness to heal, Lord.
Prepare me to receive your gift of healing.
Heal me.
Amen

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 26

When Jesus landed and saw a large crowd, he had compassion on them and healed
their sick.
Matthew 14:14


It is foundational to our healing for someone to see us with compassion. We do not see ourselves with compassion. Instead, we often see ourselves through harsh, condemning eyes. We have come to reject and shame ourselves for our need. In order to learn to heal from the inside out we need someone to see us differently than we see ourselves. We need someone to see us as we are and to respond to us with emotional warmth and genuine concern.

Jesus saw. And had compassion. And he healed. All three experiences are helpful in recovery.

God sees us. He sees that we struggle, that we need help, that we hurt. Our brokenness is not a surprise or a disappointment to God.

God has compassion on us. God feels with us. God is emotionally responsive to us. It matters to God that we are in need. It impacts God.

God heals. Having seen us and had compassion for us, God responds. God touches our wounds. God mends our broken hearts. God strengthens our weary spirits.

For those of us who have felt invisible, who have experienced shame and rejection and abuse, it is a wonderful thing to find someone who sees, has compassion and seeks to heal!


Lord, thank you that you see me.
You see my pain.
Thank you that it matters to you that I struggle and hurt.
Thank you that it is in the context of personal attention and compassion
that you heal me.
I await your healing touch today.
Amen

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 27

He will not shout or cry out, or raise his voice in the streets. A bruised
reed he will not break, and a smoldering wick he will not snuff out.
Isaiah 42:2-3


Cheer up! Snap out of it! I thought you would be better by now! What's your problem?!


When we have been badly bruised, we have an increased sensitivity to noise. Comments like these - which many of us have heard even from people who genuinely love and care for us - are a kind of 'noise' during recovery. Because we have been bruised, these comments often feel like 'shouts' or 'raised voices in the street.' They are a kind of public shaming because of our inadequacies and neediness. And this feels like it will do us in - like the tiny recovery candle that we have just managed to light is being snuffed out by the wind of the shout.


And so when God responds with gentleness we are surprised. No shouting. No yelling. No hurrying to get better. Instead, we find compassion and tenderness. Our Healer sees that we are like a bruised reed. God will not break us. God will patiently restore us. God sees we are like a smoldering wick, ready to go out. Others might give up on us. But God will work with us until we burn brightly again.


Gentleness. Patience. Persistence. We need all three. These are the gifts offered to us by our healing God.


I am bruised, Lord.
I am smoldering.
And, I am so accustomed to shouting.
It's so noisy that I don't always hear your voice.
I don't expect your gentle ways.
I expect you to yell, to be impatient.
I expect you to give up on me.
But you do not yell.
You are not impatient.
You do not give up.
Thank you.
Gentle Healer, teach me to be gentle.
Teach me to be compassionate with myself and with others.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan

February 28

I will heal their waywardness and love them freely.
Hosea 14:4


Waywardness is a turning away from what is in our best interest and following depraved, capricious inclinations. There are many ways in which waywardness can be expressed. Some of us are openly rebellious. We flaunt our wild behavior and laugh at God. Others of us are quietly wayward. We try to appear compliant and good but we are self-reliant and defiantly independent.

No matter how we express our waywardness it is a destructive force in our lives. In our attempts to protect ourselves from any further pain we turn away from God and from others who love us. We shut them out. And we shut out their love. As a result, we close ourselves off from what we want and need most desperately in life - to be known and loved.

God promises to heal our waywardness. God understands that our turning away is the result of some deep wound in us. God sees this. God knows. God promises to heal us by loving us freely. When we close the doors of our heart, God does not stop loving us. Instead God continues to love us generously and completely. God will love us freely until our fears are gone and our defenses can come down. God will love us freely so that one day we will be able to give up our waywardness and allow ourselves the joy of being loved.


Heal my waywardness, Lord.
When I turn away from you,
love me so that I will return to you again.
Amen.

Dale and Juanita Ryan