I was silent on here for the month of February. On the night of January 30, I received a phone call from my father. My husband and I had just gone to bed. So when my phone rang three times in a row and then my husband’s phone began ringing, I knew that something was terribly wrong. It was one of those moments that nothing can prepare you for. In a choked voice over the phone, my father told me that my little brother was dead. He had drowned in a rip tide while on vacation in Hawaii. And everything just stopped for a while.

The whole month of February is a blur. The day after the news that seemed to never end as I was so far away from my family. The long and lonely flight from Raleigh to Seattle, the hugs and tears with family, waking each morning to the crushing reality all over again, attending my brother’s funeral, the long flight back to Raleigh, surgery, my husband losing his job, another upcoming surgery. It all just melds together into one horrible recipe of awful.

I have walked through suffering before. Infertility. A failed adoption. Job loss. Parenting children who have been through trauma. Difficult ministry. But everything that happened at once last month mingled into a maelstrom that threatened to suck me deep within its vortex. I have pondered these words from the apostle Paul much over this past month:
“For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again.”
– 2 Corinthians 1:8-10

“Utterly burdened beyond our strength.” Those words sum up the state of my soul over this past month. In these moments of suffering, I come to realize how weak I am. I am brought face to face with the reality of my smallness and helplessness. I am forced to face the uncomfortable truth that I have no control over this life, that even my greatest strength is ultimately weakness. But I am also brought face to face with the reality of God’s strength. I am reminded that to rely on myself is to set my feet on unsolid ground. Instead I must turn my feet to the rock that is solid, to the truth that is unchanging, to the God who sovereignly holds all things together.

Back in January my husband bought me the little book God’s Grace in your Suffering by David Powlison. As soon as I got home from my brother’s funeral, I began to read it. Throughout the book, Powlison walks the reader through the hymn “How Firm A Foundation” as he considers the grace of God that is extended to us in our suffering. Taking my cue from Powlison, I will be working through the hymn “The Solid Rock” over the next few weeks, examining how the truth found in this hymn provides a solid place to stand when all else falls away.

Here are the words of the hymn:

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus’’ blood and righteousness.
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.

Chorus
On Christ, the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace.
In every high and stormy gale,
My anchor holds within the veil.

His oath, His covenant, His blood,
Support me in the whelming flood.
When all around my soul gives way,
He then is all my hope and stay.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh may I then in Him be found.
Dressed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne.

Chorus
On Christ, the solid Rock I stand,
All other ground is sinking sand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

I created this space to keep me accountable to cling to God as the upholder of my soul. I have taken a month to give myself some space, breathe, and process. But now it is time to be faithful. It is time to look to Christ crucified, the one who has set the example of suffering. It is time to turn my feet to the bedrock of the Word.