Twelve Drummers Drumming

 Twelve Drummers Drumming

Your Heart Still Beats With Purpose

      I vividly remember one of my favorite Christmas gifts as a child.  My grandmother bought me a drum set.  Not a small tiny drum set, but instead a huge drum set.  It seemed like a great idea until the sound of me pounding on the drums resounded through the house.  It was the 80's so needless to say I drummed to Bon Jovi and Bruce Springsteen.   I'm fairly confident that my parents hid the drum sticks from time to time.  I love drums to this day, though I have zero musical talent.  Drums keep rhythm.  They mark time.  They carry movement forward.  A steady beat reminds us of something simple and sacred: life continues.  Not because everything is okay.  Not because grief is finished.  But because God is still sustaining you.  If you are breathing today, there is purpose in your breath.  You might be struggling with the realization that life goes on.  You know it's true, but it's hard because as life moves forward you feel like you are leaving your loved one further behind.  Forward progression, while necessary, can be so emotionally difficult.  But God is so faithful.

   Let's be honest right out the gate, grief disrupts the rhythm of your life.  Loss interrupts everything.  It changes your sleep pattern.  Your appetite can swing in multiple directions, both of which are unhealthy.  Holidays feel disorienting.  Time feels strange, almost like you are in the multiverse.  Some days crawl, other days rush by in a flash.  Grief throws off the rhythm of life.  But beneath the chaos, there is still a heartbeat.  Still a breath.  Still a pulse of purpose.  Acts 17:28 says “In Him we live and move and have our being.”  God is holding your life together—even when it feels fractured.

      The beat of the drum reminds you that you are still here.  Sometimes survival feels like an accomplishment, and that's okay.  If all you did today was breathe, you did enough.  You might have had to fight for each breath.  Your presence matters.  Your story matters.  Your life did not end with your loss.  God has not kept you here by accident.  You remain here on purpose.

      While you remain here on purpose, that purpose might look different after loss.  Purpose may not look like it once did.  It might look quieter.  Simpler.  Slower.  For me personally the change from a busy, full life to a slower one has been a struggle.  I used to get such purpose from being busy, a full calendar, lots of meetings.  But now those things have little attraction to me.  I was recently in Zanzibar and the people use a phrase, "Pole, Pole."  It means slowly, slowly.  I have adopted that in my life as I grieve.  Purpose might be loving your children faithfully, showing compassion to others who are hurting, choosing to get up again, carrying your story with honesty, or offering presence instead of answers.  Purpose doesn’t require perfection.  It requires availability.

      God is writing a new chapter in your life, not erasing the old one.  God is not hitting the backspace button His keyboard.  God is not asking you to forget.  He is inviting you to carry your love forward.  The chapter you’re in now may not be one you would have chosen.  For that matter who chooses to join the club of grief, but God is still writing.  And one day, you’ll look back and see how grace met you in the middle of the pain.

      Twelve drummers remind us of completion—twelve tribes, twelve disciples, twelve months.  This devotional ends here, but your story does not.  Hope may feel quiet now, but it is growing.  Your heart is still beating.  You are still here and your life still matters.  Friends, cling to that.  Hold on to that when nothing makes sense.  Refuse to let it go like the woman with the issue of blood refused to let go of Jesus' garments for healing.

A Final Reflection

• What has grief taught me about love?
• Where have I seen God sustain me?
• What might God still want to do through my life?

There are no wrong answers.

A Closing Prayer

God,

Thank You for carrying me through this season of grief.

Thank You for sustaining my breath, my heart, and my life.  I offer You my future—uncertain as it feels—and trust You to walk with me.  Help me live with purpose, even after loss.  Let my life reflect Your grace, one heartbeat at a time.

Amen.