More Than Conquerers

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written: “For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:35-39

Sometimes, in the strangest of places and times, I reflect on what has happened in my life. This was true yesterday on the way home from church. I don't know why I started looking back, but that act of looking in the rear-view mirror has stuck with me for a good 24 hours now.

If I looked at this chronologically, I would have to say that 18 and a half years ago I got married, and seven and half years ago, that marriage ended, but not without having two boys, and definitely not without scars. To this day I cannot look my ex-husband in the eyes without feeling uneasiness and fear: fear of being yelled at, fear of being hit, fear of being abused in so many ways. Forgiving him is an almost daily occurance. I will say this: forgiveness should never make the forgiver a doormat, and its not a blank check for the forgivee to do whatever he wanted....again....and again....and again. I forgive him [daily] so I won't be held hostage by feelings and fears. Forgiveness is up to me, and frankly, only through Jesus Christ; repentance is up to the ex, and so far, that hasn't happened.

Eighteen years ago, I gave birth to a son. When he was just 17 days old, he would refuse to be comforted, acting like he was uncomfortable in his own skin. As he grew older, I noticed he was overly fascinated by whirling ceiling fans and obsessively placing toys in orderly lines -- but not playing with them. I learned, through Sam, to trust my mother's instinct: he was diagnosed with ADHD at age four, seizures at age six and a few months later, with high functioning autism. This is what having a child with autism means: You constantly fight battles that parents of typically-developed kids battle, but with twists. "Puberty" takes on a whole other level of fears, doubts and interestingly sick conversations. Sex ed? With a kid who, if I talk about gardening, makes him want to go plant a tree? With a kid who, if I talk about zoos, will want to go to a zoo? Having a child with autism means constantly grieving for the kid he could have been while, at the same time, celebrating accomplishments and milestones that typically-developing kids' parents merely acknowledge with a nodding of the head. Having a child who was diagnosed with autism 12 years ago means for the last 12 years you communicate and interact with his teachers on astounding levels, challenging them to challenge him; putting goals in his IEP for things like counting money, making change, acting appropriately in certain social situations -- only to have to raise the white flag of surrender when he is 18 to declare him incompetent, so you, the woman who spent 30 hours in labor with said child, can legally become his guardian to ensure he will make the right decisions regarding his healthcare, his education, his finances, his life.

People sometimes tell me, "God wouldn't give you a special child if He didn't think you were a special parent." Well I must be pretty special: four children, one with autism, one with severe ADHD, one with diabetes, and a two year old. Precocious two year olds are their own breed with their own special needs. So, while I politely smile and say "I guess" to those people, inside I'm screaming "HOGWASH!" to them. God has used these children to teach me, not the other way around. I am blessed by them; I hope and pray I am a blessing to them.

God has blessed me with a second (and final, last marriage) to my best friend and soul mate. This is also his second marriage too. God has used this second-marriage-for-both-of-us to give us opportunities to learn from past mistakes. Communication between the two of us is extremely valuable because neither of us had good communication in our first marriages.

When I look back on the last years, I am in awe at how God's hand has guided this ship of my life. I believe the night that my ex told me to choose between Jesus and him -- that was a watershed moment in my walk of faith as a believer married to an unbeliever. I chose Jesus -- and the ex walked out. I believe that when I chose Jesus, Jesus has honored and blessed that with the knowledge that the Romans 8 passage provides. Nothing can separate us from the Love of Christ. Not divorce, not abuse, not autism, not fibromyalgia, not migraines, not the death of a parent.

We become more than conquerers when we hold up the Banner of Christ and plant it on the firm soil of a rock-solid faith. We become more than conquerers by telling the storms of our lives how BIG our God is -- not by giving in to Satan's whispers that our storms are too big for our God. We become more than conquerers by having Christ, the King of Kings and Lord of Lords, the Lion of Judah, fight our battles, like the passage from 2 Chronicles 20:17 states: "You do not have to fight this battle. Position yourselves, stand still, and see the salvation of the Lord. He is with you, Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid or discouraged. Tomorrow, go out to face them, for the Lord is with you."

In looking back, I praise God for hemming me in behind and before. In looking forward to what is in store for me and mine, I know, based on God's faithfulness in our past, that He will be faithful in the future. And surely, tomorrow, I will go out to face anything that God has in store, for the Lord is with me.

Praises to His name.

(C) 2012 Terrie McKee