walking upside down

Grace gifts. Some of them are easy to identify, like a snow day descending in early November. Others take a little more digging to uncover, wrapped as they are in uncomfortable packaging, or even seeming disaster. But in this upside down Kingdom, they can be the very things to shake us from our precarious perch on the familiar and catapult us into the terrifying freedom that waits beyond.

a case of mistaken identity

A few weeks ago, I read the modern classic Stellaluna to my students, a picture book by Janell Canon. It’s a sweet story about a lost baby fruit bat who is taken in by a family of birds and grows up trying to conform to their habits. When another bat finally comes along and sees Stellaluna attempting to sleep perched upright on a branch, he asks her boldly why she is “upside down.” Believe me, my second graders had quite a conversation before all were satisfied that for bats, who are made to hang from a branch, sitting on top of one would be upside down!

Isn’t it that way with us? As believers of any age or stage, we have lived long enough in the world that it’s tempting to forget who we really are. When we step outside of what the world expects, it may appear that we are the ones who are upside down … even though that’s the way we were made! Indeed, this upturned view is the only way we can receive trials and pains that would devastate a person without Christ as merely “light and momentary troubles.” Of course, having been raised among birds unbelievers, it often takes some time for the Spirit to reorient us to our true perspective!

of brokenness and beauty

I have some dear friends who have been sitting in a pressure cooker of decisions, separations, setbacks, loss, and anticipation for well over a year now. One of them describes it like living in a snow globe: just when things start to look settled and serene —SHAAAAKE!!!— everything gets stirred up again. I was reflecting on their journey with another friend of mine, and we both agreed on how evidently the Lord’s hand has been sifting and shaping this family, and how beautifully they are walking through the process. “Beautiful” is an upside down word in this case; it hasn’t exactly been pretty. I know they would have lots more … colorful … adjectives from their view on the inside! Still, because the Lord knows exactly what He intends to accomplish, He is willing to stretch us much farther and wound us more deeply than we would ever choose on our own.

Sometimes I think we want to take a rather, shall we say, poetic view of brokenness. We’d like to paint its results as delicate and tender, with a supple inner strength, while glossing over the anguish it took to get there. In reality , what we typically crash into can be violent and chaotic, spinning into our well-ordered world with breath-stealing force. In its wake, we are often left gasping and mangled, upside down victors that appear more like walking wounded than conquering heroes.

But if we were to allow the Spirit of God to flip our perspectives—to shake them out and give them a sharp snap so they would better align with His—what would be our renewed, “upside down” view of our weakness? What of our loss, our pain, our suffering? Perhaps we could we begin to see His goodness more fully manifested, and accept the grace gifts meant to enlarge our abundance …

wrestling with wonder

In countless testing seasons of my life, I have returned to wrestle with a particular Psalm. The verse itself is a little gem nestled within an especially profound and beautiful chapter; in calmer moments, I am able to receive all the comfort it was intended to provide. However. There are those other moments, ones in which my faith and calling and desire for obedience seem to close in on me until I feel trapped, suffocated. I am Saul before his Pauline transformation, fumbling in my blindness as the Lord calls out to me: “Why do you kick against the goads?”

And I respond with Psalm 139, verse 5: “You hem me in behind and before, and you lay your hand upon me …”

Lord, it’s too much! If I try to go this way, I can’t. If I want to make this move, You thwart it. Anything I try outside of You fails. And even were I to exert my will against Yours in order to experience some momentary pleasure, I am well aware no lasting contentment is to be found there; such rebellion would leave me more miserable than before. You are pressing in on me from every side, and I can’t move, I can’t breathe! I …

… surrender.

—Exhale—

Like a colicky baby who needs to be swaddled and soothed, I find the deliberate pressure has done its work. My frantic scrabbling to gain a foothold subsides. Panic is exchanged for peace. Again, wholeheartedly, I embrace the promise: 

Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
    too lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your Spirit?
    Where can I flee from your presence? 
If I go up to the heavens, you are there;
    if I make my bed in the depths, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
    if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
    your right hand will hold me fast.

Psalm 139:6-10

grace without limit

A year ago, I could’ve imagined little worse than watching someone I love walk out of my life. And then, on the other side of that dreaded rift, to feel the crutch I had been leaning on buckle and collapse seemed almost … cruel. In the early aftermath of both circumstances, I have found myself among the walking wounded: clobbered and confused, flat on my face on the ugly side of broken.

Grace seems too limited a word for the faithful force my Lord has applied in order to reach in and right my world. I cannot account for such fresh and overcoming joy any other way. For what I viewed as the worst possible loss, the most all-consuming heartache, is coming to be—on the flip side—a most precious gift. 

I could list for you lessons learned, trust secured, intimacy deepened, a brittle heart both strengthened and softened. But any of you who have spent time in the crucible of the upside down Kingdom will know its value for yourselves. And for those who have not, well, only the Lord’s own hand can write such mysteries upon your hearts. Once He does, you will be well-equipped to join the company of those who walk upside down.