5 Days to Seeing Beautiful Again by Lysa TerKeurst

Scripture: 1 Peter 5:10

But How Do I Get Through the Next 86,400 Seconds?

Part of what makes healing so hard is the deep ache left behind after the trauma. 

Loss envelops us with a grief that comes in unpredictable waves. It’s hard to know if you’re getting better when a string of good days suddenly gives way to an unexpected emotional crash. It’s in those moments where I find myself whispering…

Am I going to feel like this forever? Is it always going to hurt this much?

I want healing to be as neat and predictable as a checklist. I don’t want to be inconvenienced by it, and I most certainly don’t want to be caught off guard by the emotions that can go along with it.

But of course, if you’ve ever had to heal from having your heart broken in excruciating ways, you know you can’t schedule healing. You can’t hurry it up. And you can’t control how and when it will want to be tended to.

Trust me when I say I understand all of these feelings. I know what it’s like to wish someone would please just tell you how in the world you’re supposed to make it through all 86,400 seconds of the day when you’re in so much pain.

But I’ve discovered those days where a fresh wave of tears hit us all over again don’t have to be setbacks. They can be evidence we’re moving through the hardest parts of healing. The new tears over old wounds are proof we’re processing the grief and wrestling well with the ache in our soul.

Feeling the pain is the first step toward healing the pain. And all those emotions that keep bubbling up and unexpectedly spilling out? They’re evidence you aren’t dead inside. There’s life under the surface. And while feelings shouldn’t be dictators of how we live, they are great indicators of what still needs to be worked through.

When we love deeply, we hurt deeply. This is why we have to learn how to trust the process of healing. We have to let it ebb and flow around, in, and through us. We have to grant it access to our heart.

And when we start to see healing as unfolding layers of unexpected strength and richly revealed wisdom, it doesn’t feel so unfair. It starts to feel like a secret wisdom God is whispering into the depth of our soul.

Then one day we realize the future feels stunningly appealing. Not because circumstances have changed but because we have embraced reality, released control, and found this healed version of ourselves is what we’d been looking for all along.

I don’t know what kind of pain or heartbreak you may be processing right now. But I do want to point you toward the hope found in 1 Peter 5:10: “The God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.”

I’m praying these next few days we spend together remind you that our God is a God of restoration. And all that aching within you is proof there’s a beautiful remaking in process. 

Don’t give up, friend. 

God loves you. You are not alone. Healing is possible.

RESPOND:

Have you ever walked through a long season of suffering that actually resulted in God building a strength in you that you never expected to have? How might He be strengthening you right now in the midst of that hard situation? Spend some time journaling about this today. 

Scriptures: Mark 14:27-31, Mark 14:66-72, Luke 22:61-62

Denying Jesus

I don’t doubt God is real and that God is good. But I often pray, “God, give me relief from my unbelief.” 

I pray this when what He allows into my life does not feel good or seem good to me. When we assume we know what a good God would do, and He doesn’t do it? That’s the complicated place where doubts are formed and we can be tempted to distance ourselves from God.

I’m reminded of Peter—a man who boldly declared to Jesus, “Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you” (Mark 14:31), but then found himself doing the exact opposite.

While Mark 14 shows us Jesus remaining faithful in the midst of the pain and turmoil of a beloved friend’s betrayal (vv. 43–45) and the high priest’s interrogation (vv. 53–65), we find Peter with faltering faith as he stood waiting in a courtyard (vv. 66–72).

Afraid. Cold. Forgetful. Peter soon denied the One who loved him most.

Once. Twice. Three times. A rooster’s shrill cry ushered in the shocking realization that the very thing Peter swore he’d never do, he did.

And as much as we might want to shake our head at Peter, I think we all know fear, pain, and insecurities really can do a number on the human heart.

They certainly did a number on Peter’s, as he watched Jesus, the One he had seen perform miracles, allow Himself to be bound and arrested. Jesus was supposed to be the King who would deliver the Jewish people from the oppression of the Romans. How could this be happening? Peter didn’t realize this was the only way he or anyone else could experience Jesus reigning as King in eternity.

So, in a moment of doubt and disappointment, Peter chose to distance himself from Jesus. Distancing himself to the point of complete denial.

To deny something is to declare it’s untrue. To deny Jesus is to say with our words, thoughts, or actions that we don’t really believe the truth of who Jesus says He is or what He says He’ll do.

How heartbreaking. For us. For Jesus.

But before we give in to feelings of shame, let’s look at Luke 22:61–62: “The Lord turned and looked straight at Peter. Then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him: ‘Before the rooster crows today, you will disown me three times.’ And he went outside and wept bitterly.”

The look that passed between Jesus and Peter wasn’t one of condemnation. It wasn’t an “I told you so” moment. I believe Jesus’ eyes were filled with compassion for Peter. The same compassion He has for us today. A look that invites us to trust Him and draw near to Him once again.

Oh, friend. Let’s ask ourselves where we’re denying Jesus’ truth in our lives. Denying His healing. Denying His redemption and hope.

Nothing is beyond the reach of our Jesus. No matter what we’ve done. No matter what the enemy or our life’s circumstances may say.

We can draw near to Him today and pray, “Lord, I don’t want to deny Your power just because I’m afraid and I don’t see evidence of You working now. Give me relief from any and all unbelief. And help me watch for evidence of all You are doing, big and small. I don’t have to understand this to trust You with this.”

RESPOND: 

Prayerfully ask the Lord to reveal any places you’ve been denying Jesus and to give you relief from your unbelief. Consider reaching out to a friend to help hold you accountable in these areas of your life. 

Scriptures: James 1:2-4, Hebrews 12:2

When Joy Feels So Very Unrealistic

There’s no part of me that wants sorrow to be a part of my story.

There isn’t any plan God could present where I would willingly agree to heartbreak and pain.

But the longer I walk with the Lord, the more I see what a tragedy that would be. Picking and choosing what gets to be part of my story would keep me from the ultimate good God has in mind.

James 1:2–4 reminds us, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

These words are easy to pull out when our worst issue is the drive-through getting our coffee order wrong. But what about those things that hurt too long? Or disappoint too deeply? Or feel devastatingly permanent?

To slap some “we should be joyful about this” verses on top of those hard things feels cruel. Like a bad joke about something excruciatingly painful.

That’s why I’m glad these verses don’t say “feel the joy” but instead “consider where some glimpses of joy might be even in the midst of all the hurt.”

Our understanding of joy rises and falls on whether we truly trust God in the middle of what our human minds can’t see as good at all. It’s hard. So I like to think of it in terms of baking.

Imagine we go to the store to buy all of the ingredients we need to make a cake, but then we feel too tired to mix it all together. Instead, we decide to just enjoy the cake one ingredient at a time. The thing is that sometimes we don’t like some of the individual ingredients, so we’d rather leave them out.

The flour is too dry—leave it out. The sugar, butter, and vanilla are all good—leave them in! The eggs are just gross when raw—definitely leave those out! And then our cake would never be made “mature and complete, not lacking anything.”

We are so quick to judge the quality of our lives and the reliability of God based on individual events, rather than on the eventual good God is working together. We must know that just like the master baker has reasons to allow the flour and eggs in right measure into the recipe, Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith (Hebrews 12:2 NASB), will do the same with dry times and hard times.

We can make peace with the fact that sorrow and celebration can coexist together in a heart quite authentically. Mixing them together is part of the recipe of life.

We can sit with and tend to all that still needs to be healed and at the same time laugh, plan for great things ahead, and declare this a glorious day. 

To have both sorrow and celebration in our heart isn’t denial.

It’s deeming life a gift—even if it looks nothing like we thought it would right now.

Our sorrows make our hearts more tender and allow us to grieve. Our celebrations tend to our heart’s need to recognize what is beautiful about our life, get back up, and go on.

Let’s embrace the mix of all that’s worthy of celebration while fully allowing sorrow to add what it brings as well—knowing we can trust Jesus’ recipe of purpose in both the pain and joy.

RESPOND: 

What “ingredients” in your life do you wish God would remove? How could God actually be using these things for good? Ask Him to help you see glimpses of joy even in the midst of your pain, and then write down what you see over the next week. 

Scriptures: Psalms 57, 1 Samuel 22:1-2

Suspicious of God

Yesterday we talked about trusting God in the midst of both sorrow and celebration. 

But I think we can all admit that it’s hard not to feel suspicious of God when our circumstances don’t seem to line up with His promises. And it’s difficult not to doubt the light of His truth when everything around us looks dark.

That’s why I want us to look at Psalm 57 – a passage penned by David in the midst of a season when his circumstances and God’s promises appear to be in complete and total opposition.

At this point David had already been anointed as the future king of Israel and had faithfully served King Saul. Sadly, though, Saul “rewarded” David with persecution and death threats. David was left to run for his life and then hide out in a cave.

And David wasn’t hiding alone. First Samuel 22:1–2 tells us the four hundred men under David’s leadership were in distress, in debt, and discontented. I wouldn’t judge David for one second if he had cried out to God in utter defeat.

But the words he wrote in Psalm 57 are neither exclusively a psalm of lament nor a psalm of thanksgiving. David didn’t deny the darkness of his situation, but he also refused to allow his soul to get stuck in a place of despair. Instead, David chose to declare praises about the true nature and character of God. He reminded his soul of who God is—a God who fulfills His purposes (v. 2), a God who saves (v. 3), a God known for His faithfulness and steadfast love (vv. 2, 10).

Even though David’s soul was “bowed down” by his circumstances (v. 6), he allowed what he knew to be true about God to steady him. This enabled David to declare: “My heart is steadfast, O God, my heart is steadfast! I will sing and make melody!” (v. 7, ESV).

In a cave that surely felt like an end to all he hoped and dreamed, David acknowledged his distress, but he also lifted his eyes to praise God. David’s praise wasn’t in vain. It steadied his heart. And his painful circumstances weren’t wasted. God used those hardships to mature David. Yes, David had already been anointed to eventually become king. But it was in the womb of the earth where God met him and birthed in him a heart ready to lead.

Darkness was the perfect training ground for David’s destiny. And those difficult places we so desperately want to be done with can become good training ground for us as well. But we must decide, will we see our dark times as a womb or a tomb? Will we fix our eyes on the truth of God’s goodness, or will we give in to hopelessness and despair?

Oh, friend. I know the dark places are scary. But let’s choose to believe there is purpose in every season, even the ones that don’t seem to make any sense. Let’s ask God to birth something new inside of us, allowing Him to do a work in us that will better prepare us to walk out His promises. And instead of being suspicious of Him, let’s lift up our praises to Him.

Praise may not shift our circumstances, but it will definitely begin to change our hearts. 

RESPOND: 

What have you been fixing your eyes on more recently – the enormity and difficulty of your circumstances or the character of our good and faithful God? Take some time to read through Psalm 57 and Psalm 36. Write out the attributes of God you find that bring your heart peace and hope. 

Scripture: Isaiah 64:8

Delicate, Not Fragile

As we end our time together, I want to share a powerful picture God showed me when I was walking through one of the most difficult seasons of my life.

I’m not really a “see some sort of vision” kind of girl. So at first, I thought it was just my imagination wandering off for a minute. But then I felt an impression on my heart that this really was from God.

What I saw inside my mind was a beautiful flower made from paper-thin glass. I looked at it from all sides and admired the way it was formed. Then I saw a hand reaching out and wrapping itself around the glass flower. But as the hand closed around it, the glass popped and shattered. The glass was delicately beautiful but too fragile to be worked with.

Next, I saw the same flower formed out of shiny metal. The hand reached out and wrapped itself around the flower and held it for a few seconds. But then once again the hand closed around it. Only this time nothing happened to the flower. It didn’t change in any way. And I could tell the harder the hand-pressed, the more pain the steel flower was causing the hand. The steel was strong but not moldable. The metal flower was too hard to give way to the hand’s desired working.

But the last time I saw the same flower, it was made from a white clay. Every detail was the same except now when the hand reached out and closed around it, the flower moved with the hand. The clay squeezed and moved between the hand’s fingers. The hand-worked with the clay until an even more beautiful flower emerged.

As I asked God about these flowers, I felt the Lord say to my heart, Lysa, I want you to be delicate, but I don’t want you to be fragile. If you’re like that piece of glass, when I press into you and try to make you something new, you’ll just shatter. I also want you to be strong, but I don’t want you to be unmoldable. That steel flower will always just be a steel flower. No matter how hard My hand presses, I can’t make something new from something so hard. You’re already beautiful, but if you’ll surrender to My shaping, I can do a new and beautiful work in you.

I cried as I finally began to understand.

God wanted me to be like clay. The white clay flower was delicately beautiful but not too fragile. It was strong enough to hold its shape but soft enough to allow the hand to reshape it as needed. And in the end, the clay flower wound up being the most beautifully shaped of them all.

It gives a whole new meaning to one of my favorite verses found in Isaiah 64:8: “You, Lord, are our Father. We are the clay, you are the potter; we are all the work of your hand.”

Oh, friend, God isn’t ever going to forsake us, but He will go to great lengths to remake us.

We don’t have to be afraid of how He’s going to shape our lives. He is the God who somehow makes everything beautiful in its time.

But seeing the beauty in life again will require us to stay moldable by Him. And it’s only in trusting the gentle but powerful hands of the Potter and allowing Him to remold and remake us that our hurts are able to be shaped into something beautiful.

RESPOND: 

Which kind of flower would you say you are most like right now – glass, metal, or clay? Look back at the attributes of God you wrote down yesterday. How can remembering those truths about Him help you keep your heart moldable?