To the one in the fire and the one in the flood, Isaiah 43:2

I know, the heat feels endless and life burns hot. Your legs ache for a treading-water break. I know, you watch other women move in and out of their own fires, their own floods, rest and respite before returning again, but you haven’t gotten your tap-out yet. Instead, the buckets of water keep getting thrown in your face. The storm still rages. The wind still howls. The embers still smolder. I know. 

I know, you know women who have never experienced either a fire or a flood. I know, you watch with veiled curiosity (fascination, even) that such a life of genuine happiness exists. I know the heart pangs of wishing you experienced it, too. I know. Isaiah 43:2

I know, this feels like it will last forever. I know, for some of you, that maybe it will. Chronic pain, silent disease, delayed fertility, infertility, children with special needs, difficult relationships, the list is endless. And, in the beginning, it’s all doable, right? But, when it drags on, year after year… I know.Isaiah 43:2

I know, it feels trite, but from one in the thick of it woman to another, can I whisper truth that will maybe land a little bit differently today?

“When you pass through these waters, I am with you. And, the rivers? They won’t overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned. The flame will not scorch you.”

Isaiah 43:2, my paraphrase

I’ve said it for years now, “I’m going to have PTSD from this.” I thought about it again yesterday morning, in the early stillness before the daily chaos hit. This time, though, God whispered back, No you won’t. That fire? Yes, it’s hot. But it won’t scorch you. It won’t scar you. It will transform you.

“We went through fire and through water,” Psalm 66:12 says, from the perspective of someone who hollers from the other side—who knows what you and I still don’t. “God trained us first,” The Message’s version reads, “passed us like silver through refining fires, brought us into hardscrabble country, pushed us to our very limit, road-tested us inside and out, took us to hell and back.”

I know, you feel seen. Isaiah 43:2

But that’s not where it ends for us. It doesn’t end in the fire and the flood. Not even close. “But You brought us out to rich fulfillment,” the psalmist writes, using language that means saturated and abundant, refreshment and rest in wide open air. The Message calls it a well-watered place. The only other time this particular Hebrew word is used in the Bible is in Psalm 23:5. Isaiah 43:2

I know, it’s hard to believe. I know, it’s hard to want to get your hopes up. But, at some point, your cup will not be perpetually drained. And it won’t be consistently kiln-fired, either. It will be running over entirely. Isaiah 43:2

The running-over phrase an expressive metaphor that describes a state of bliss rarely experienced in this life. I know, your story is an uncommon kind of hard that not many women around you have personally experienced. I know, it’s wildly lonely. Isaiah 43:2

But, through it, you will experience a piece of God’s character that not many women around you have. He has chosen you for this. It’s okay to lament that. But, when you do, cling to the truth that He has not left you alone in it. Isaiah 43:2

Your cup will run over, eventually. I promise. Isaiah 43:2