Friday Hope

     "But I will sing of Your strength; I will sing aloud of Your steadfast love in the morning.  For You have been to me a fortress and a refuge in the day of my distress.  O my Strength, I will sing praises to You, for You, O God, are my fortress, the God who shows me steadfast love." (Ps.59:16-17)
     3:00 a.m. and Janie and I are keeping watch with the Lord in the predawn darkness.  The Lord seems to wake me impossibly early every morning, but it has become to me the sweetest time of quietly enjoying His presence in this hospital room/sanctuary. Sometimes I cry, all the while thankful that He knows and sees every teardrop and "puts my tears in Your bottle" (Ps.56:8)  But far more often I simply praise Him for His presence, His love, His enabling, His supernatural strength, His answers to prayer after prayer after prayer.  Even in the midst of one challenge after another, He has proved His faithfulness and goodness and grace to us over and over again.  And I praise Him--my Fortress, my Strength, my Savior.
      Janie rests, while her Savior holds her, has her, gently calls her name, and I, too,  listen for His voice amidst the steady buzz and beep of machines.  And I just can't help but feel hope rising.  I know it sounds ridiculous--here in the Intensive Care Unit with my precious daughter on a ventilator and battling a brain injury--but hope finds me even here.  With Christ there is always hope, and I am a prisoner of hope.
     It is friday morning, and my mind wanders back to that terrible friday so long ago--that "Good Friday" when the Lord Jesus took our sin, our shame, our failure to the cross and nailed it to His cross, our cross.  And I think of the story Corrie ten Boom shares in her book, The Hiding Place.   Corrie and her sister Betsie and the other prisoners in the Nazi concentration camp had to endure "medical inspection" every friday where they were forced to strip naked and walk past a phalanx of leering guards.

  "It was one of these mornings while we were waiting, shivering, in the corridor, that a page in the Bible leapt into life for me.

     He hung on the cross.

     "I had not known--I had not thought...The paintings, the carved crucifixes showed at the least a scrap of cloth.  But this, I suddenly knew, was the respect and reverence of the artist. But oh--at the time itself, on that other Friday morning--there had been no reverence. No more than I saw in the faces around us now.  I leaned toward Betsie, ahead of me in line. Her shoulder blades stood out sharp and thin beneath her blue-mottled skin.

     "Betsie, they took His clothes too."

      Ahead of me I heard a little gasp.  "Oh, Corrie. And I never thanked Him..."

       Such human depravity and cruelty stuns me--especially as I sit here in this comfortable hospital surrounded by loving family and friends and caring, wonderful nurses and doctors who constantly tend to my daughter's every need.  Thank You, Jesus.
      But such goodness and grace of our Savior simply astounds and awes me; to think that the Almighty, the Creator and Sustainer of the universe would be willing to be tortured and striped and humiliated for us, all for us, all for our redemption.  Our lives should be one gigantic thank you to the One who gave all, forgave all, did all,  in order to purchase our salvation.
     And so, in the midst of our circumstances, we choose to rejoice in Him.  The same Lord who sustained and fully satisfied the ten Booms in the most desperate of places, does the same with us in the hospital room.  "I will sing aloud of Your steadfast love in the morning."
     And as I praise, hope rises.  Hope in Him and in His love and plans for Janie.  The other day, a dear friend reminded me of Rom.5:2b-5: "we rejoice in hope of the glory of God.  More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us."
     Yes, He is our hope.  For all of us, in the midst of our suffering, we can be assured that He is working and moving to produce endurance and character and never failing hope along with His glorious love that fills us to overflowing.  We ask not for easier lives Lord, but for deeper, stronger faith that sings in the morning, that overflows with gratitude and that abounds with Your love.
     We don't know what today will bring... but in Him, we rejoice and hope rises.  O Lord, we continue to pray that in Your mercy and grace, You would roll away the stone.  Thank You for Good Friday and for Your never-failing love.  To God, our hope and our song, be all the glory.

Waiting

     Waiting.  Waiting on God and praying and trusting.
     One of my very favorite passages in all the Bible is Isaiah 40.  What a vision of our glorious, Almighty God.  Let His Word wash over you:
     "To whom then will you compare me, that I should be like him? says the Holy One.  Lift up your eyes on high and see: who created these?  He who brings out their host by number, calling them all by name, by the greatness of His might and because He is strong in power not one is missing.  Why do you say, O Jacob, and speak, O Israel, 'My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God?'  Have you not known?  Have you not heard?  The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth.  He does not faint or grow weary; His understanding is unsearchable.  He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might He increases strength.  Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." (Is.40:25-31)
     How I love to look up at the expanse of the heavens, especially in the mountains, and see the innumerable far flung stars and praise the One who made every single one of them and knows them each by name.  Who can comprehend such vast distances, such power?  And He is mighty to save and redeem and restore the broken and the weary and the despairing... while we wait upon Him.
     But boy, it's that waiting part that can be so hard.  I have always been such an impatient person.  When I get hungry, I want that meal now.  When I'm hurting, I want relief now.  When I pray, I want answers now.  Of course, don't we all?  And such an immediate "now" mentality builds weakness and shallowness and ingratitude.  I've often heard it said that a mushroom can grow overnight but a mighty oak takes years and years.  With our children, with our character, are we hoping to grow mushrooms or mighty oaks?  Forgive me, Father, for how often I want to opt for the easy and the quick rather than waiting in faith on You and seeking Your highest and deepest and greatest.
     Right now, we are waiting.  We are waiting on our Father and on our precious Janie and beseeching the Lord, as she waits in His tender embrace, to "renew her strength" and to enable her to "mount up with wings like eagles" from her bed, and to "run and not be weary."  And as we pray for her, we pray for all of us to wait upon Him in steadfast faith and hope, trusting that no matter what happens in this life, He will renew us and strengthen us and enable us to praise Him and walk victoriously with Him.
     We have waited for so many things in the past.  Waiting to get married.  Waiting to have a child.  Waiting to hear about college admissions.  So much waiting in life--but all that waiting now seems like nothing compared to this hard, long waiting.  A sorrowful siege of waiting when my heart wants to be gripped with fear,  but my Lord calls me to trust and rest in Him.  We can only do that by His power as we look to Him, daily, hourly, and cry out in faith.  "Father, we cannot do it.  Help us, show us how, enable us to look to You, not our feelings, to trust in You, not in anything man says, to hope in You, not in any lesser thing."  And He answers with His peace in this waiting.
     All of us are waiting for something in our lives... and for many, it is a hard waiting.  A sorrowful waiting.  A scary waiting.  Waiting for that prodigal to return.  Waiting for healing in the midst of great pain.  Waiting for that longed-for baby.  Waiting for restoration in some broken relationship.  Waiting for release from addiction or redemption from failure.  Hard, long waiting.
    Help us, Father, to wait on You in faith and peace and praise, knowing You are the God of restoration, and redemption, and resurrection.  You work best in the graveyards of our lives.
    I awoke this morning thinking of Your tomb... the tomb of God.  For three long days they waited.  Three days on earth.  But three days in the heavenlies?--like an eternity,  for Your Word says in heaven, a day is like a thousand years.  Earth waited and wept.  Heaven waited for eons of time for the Son of God, the Messiah, the Lion of Judah to be released and resurrected and victory won.
     They waited and waited.
     And after all that waiting, suddenly, the Word, the Light, the Door, the Good Shepherd, the Living Water, the Way, the Truth and the Life, the Bread of Life, the Resurrection and the Life was resurrected and redemption for His own secured forever.
     Thank You, Lord Jesus, for teaching us how to wait and helping us as we wait.  Might we look to You in our hard waiting--serving, trusting, praying, praising even while we wait.  And we ask, by Your mercy and grace and goodness, that You would answer our prayers on behalf of our Janie and on behalf of all who are waiting and beseeching You in their own hard waiting.  We pray for Your perfect will in our lives and in the lives of those we love, Lord--help us to trust and rejoice with whatever You know is ultimately for our greater good and Your greater glory.  Father, we wait and pray, in Your time, for the stone to be rolled away.
     To the Resurrected Lord be all the glory.

The Marathon

     This is a marathon... this fight for Janie's recovery.  But then, life is a marathon, isn't it?  A marathon that requires patience (not my strong suit) and perseverance and the refusal to quit when the going gets tough.  And it will.
     I'm thinking back to my one and only marathon way back when I was in law school--that would be before the earth's crust cooled.  I had done all the long runs and training that were supposed to prepare you for the marathon, so I went to Washington, DC for the marathon, excited and totally ready.  Or so I thought.
     My two sisters, Mary Norris and Jane (yep, Janie's amazing namesake--my girl has a lot to live up to!), accompanied me to the race.  They had apparently mapped out an intricate plan of cheering for me at the start of the race, jumping on the subway and racing to another location along the route and cheering so more and then back onto the subway to the next spot for more cheering.  I have an amazing family.  Amazing is actually far too mild of a word.
     So things were lookin' good at the start.  I was running and smiling and thinking this was just such a terrific idea... and, O, look, there's the Lincoln Memorial and isn't it lovely running along the Potomac River... and I just love Washington, DC.  Life was good.
     Just when I started to tire just a little bit, there would be Mary Norris and Jane, popping up and yelling things like "You can do it!  Remember the Fightin' Tarheels!  Remember James Worthy!" (this was not long after the UNC Tarheels had won their first national basketball championship.  Like I said life was good.)  And so I'd smile and run on.  Until the next time they would suddenly appear again at  another spot.  Now that I look back on it, I'm thinking they worked far harder than I did that morning.
     But I was still running along and feeling fine and had only a couple of miles to go.  That was nothing with all the long training runs I had taken.  And then suddenly, there it was--I hit the dreaded "wall."  One minute I'm running along thinking about how much salad and pasta and chocolate cake I'm going to be eating after finishing this race, and the next, I simply cannot put another foot in front of the other.  I'm totally exhausted.  And I mean exhausted.  Empty, spent, dead... and I cannot go on.  Less than two miles to go, all that training, all that desire, and I can't do it.  I just can't finish the race.
     And then, there they were: my sisters.  Yelling, cheering, but suddenly concerned when they see me and I tell them I can't do it.  I'm spent and done.  They try to rouse me but even visions of fighting Tarheels can't help me now.  I'm finished.
     Well, I thought I was anyway.  For that's when my sisters went into action and started jogging beside me.  Wearing down jackets and blue jeans and carrying enormous pocketbooks (trust me, not ideal running attire),  they jogged along beside me, encouraging me, while their big purses banged along their sides.   One little boy yelleed, "Hey Mom, look at those ladies!  They're running with purses!"  Well, you never know when you might need some chapstick or a debit card.  My wonderful sisters jogged most of the last mile and a half with me all the way till I could see the finish line in the distance and realized I could make it after all.
     And that is what they are still doing today, nearly 30 years later.  In this hospital.  In this long marathon fight for Janie.  My sisters, my brothers, my dear friends--an formidable army of friends, my children, they are all standing in the gap when strength flags and hope flees.  They are there to remind us when we forget, that God is forever faithful and that we are not alone in this long race.  They are there to remind us, as Thomas Edison once said, "When you have exhausted all possibilities, remember this: you haven't."  They are there to love us and do a thousand different things to help us.  They are there to send emails and texts at just the right moment when we need it the most--all because an Almighty Sovereign Lord knew the perfect timing for their words to arrive and revive.  It's happened over and over again, and it simply amazes me... my Mighty God astounds me.
     Just yesterday afternoon, I hit the wall with Janie's latest setback.  And I truly felt for a moment that I couldn't keep running the race.  I was so battle-weary and worn and the finish line seemed so impossibly far ahead.  But God sent in the calvary;  He sent in another edition of the Warrior Sisters in the marathon!  He sent an email from a friend that said the precise words God knew that I needed.  And He sent my sweet family sitting in here with Janie just being calm and strong and faithful.  He sent my encouraging husband.  He even sent me a hilarious phone call from a friend that returned the joyous gift of laughter to an exhausted heart.
     He just keeps sending and helping and undergirding and enabling and empowering and loving.  And suddenly the discouragement and weariness weaken their fierce grip, and I know I can keep running and keep fighting the good fight of faith.
     "Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race marked out for us, looking to Jesus,  the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider Him who endured such hostility against Himself so that you do not grow weary and fainthearted." (Heb.12:1-3)
     Lord, might we all look unto You as we run this marathon.  For we are all running a long, hard race in one way or another.  Forgive us when we look to other people's races with envy--help us to run our race, the race You, in Your infinite grace and love, have marked out for us. And when we grow weary, thank You for sending in reinforcements in so many ways to keep us running.  Thank You for running alongside us every step of the way, cheering us on in Your Word and by Your Spirit.  Keep us focused upon You, Lord Jesus, so that we will not flag or fail to finish this race strong.  You did it... and we can too--all for Your glory and all by Your grace.  And thank You for the priceless gifts of family and friends that help us and encourage us all along the way.
     No, we won't stop running... not you, not me, not ever.  Not with Jesus by our side.  Not until we reach His glorious finish line when all this running and suffering and struggling will be so worth it.  To God, to our Savior, who ran the race before us and for us, be all the glory.

The Stone

     Yesterday afternoon, my dear brother held out his hand in Janie's hospital room and without saying a word, opened his fist to reveal two beautiful black and white rocks.  He didn't need to say a word.  We both knew and tears spilled down for both of us.  They were rocks from Cane River--our last family vacation just two weeks ago with all of my brothers and sisters and children.  A place in the mountains of North Carolina at the base of Mt. Mitchell where we all go once a year and stay in a big old log cabin and fish for trout and hike and sit around a battered huge table and eat huge dinners and laugh and talk.  For our family, there's just something about this place of God's unspoiled, wild beauty that binds our hearts together.  We all love it.
     And Janie loved it.  The last pictures she posted on facebook before her accident were from Cane River.  Thank You Lord for these joyful memories of fishing and hiking through those cold, clear streams filled with huge boulders and rocks and more rocks.  Every year, we all seem to bring home some rocks from Cane River--just a way to remind us of this place we share and love.
     At 3:30 this morning, as I lay in the room with Janie,  tears slide down my cheeks as I prayed for her healing and restoration.  In the darkness, God suddenly reminded me of my brother's rocks--we put them on a little ledge right in front of Janie's bed.  I pick one up and pray by her bedside and feel God speaking of stones being rolled away from tombs.  "Father," I whisper, "please roll away the stone for Janie.  Please free her from this grave that binds her and free her to glorify You."
     I sit down with the Word to read of stones and resurrection.  The stone rolled away from the tomb of our Savior.  But God leads me to an earlier resurrection--Lazarus in John 11.  Jesus' beloved friend is ill, and Lazarus' sisters send for Jesus, telling Him, "Lord, he whom you love is ill."  I continue to read the words I have read so many times but that are now crackling, electric to me: "But when Jesus heard it He said, 'This illness does not lead to death.  It is for the glory of God, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it." (John 11:4)
     That is what we have prayed all through our children's lives--that they would glorify Him, that we would bring Him glory.  Every single morning for as long as they've lived, we shout out as they leave the house, "Salt and light!  Make a difference!"  Is this how, Lord?  I know that after Janie returned from a mission trip to Africa this summer, she had shared with close friends that she wanted to truly make a difference for Christ this year.  O Lord, I know You are using her in so many lives right now for Your glory, and even in this hard, dark place, I praise You and thank You that her suffering, that our suffering is making an eternal difference.
     I read on. "Now Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus.  So when He heard that Lazarus was ill, He stayed two days longer in the place where He was." (John 11:5-6)  He loved them and so He stayed and allowed Lazarus to die before finally going to him--pain and suffering as evidence not of His disinterest but of His love because something greater and better was coming.
     He tells His disciples it is time to go to see Lazarus.  "Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I go to awaken him."  And so they travel to Bethany where Lazarus has now been dead in the tomb four days.  As I sit in this hospital room, I am also standing at the stone-covered tomb of Lazarus with His weeping and bewildered family and friends.  They are asking why Jesus would allow His friend to suffer and die.  They are wondering why He would delay and wait to come until it is too late.
     But they do not know the end of the story.  They do not know how the Lord Jesus uses delays and waiting and the stone-covered tombs of despair and failure and doubt in our lives and He redeems and transforms... and resurrects. His delays are not denials.  I read the words and the hospital walls disappear.  All I see is the tomb and the huge rock and the Savior speaking firmly to the weeping sister: "I am the resurrection and the life.  Whoever believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in Me, shall never die.  Do you believe this?" (John 11:25)
     Yes, Lord, I whisper through tears, I believe.  And I clutch Janie's Cane River rock and I pray for resurrection and for faith and for God's glory.
     And now we walk, the sisters, the mourners, the Lord Jesus, and I, we walk to the tomb. "It was a cave, and a stone lay against it.  Jesus said, 'Take away the stone.'"  And I pray for Janie--Father, take away the stone, in Your time, by Your grace, take it away and free her.
     The sisters protest, for Lazarus has been dead four days and there will be an odor. But "Jesus said to her, 'Did I not tell you that if you believed you would see the glory of God?"  Yes, Lord, we believe.  Lord, help our unbelief.
     Jesus prayed to His heavenly Father and "When He had said these things, He cried out with a loud voice, 'Lazarus, come out!'"  And a dead man, a man dead for four long days, walks out of his own abandoned tomb.  His hands and feet still bound with cloths, his face still wrapped with cloth, but Jesus commands them "Unbind him, and let him go." (v.44)
     We stare, those mourners and I, at resurrection, at freedom, at the glory of God revealed at a stone-covered tomb.  We worship a Lord who saves and loves and redeems... and a Savior who ultimately would willingly, lovingly go to His own stone-covered tomb to save us, to unbind us from the sin that enslaves us, to free us from those things that grip us like fear and pride and despair, and ultimately to resurrect us.
     How can we not worship such a Savior?
     Holding the stone, I praise and I pray in this hospital room turned sanctuary.  I pray for Janie--that in His perfect time, God would speak her name and command her "Janie, come out!" and free her to glorify Him to a watching world.  And I pray for a world Jesus died to save--that others would hear His voice and heed His call to come and believe and be saved... and be resurrected to abundant, eternal life.
     Thank You for the stone, Lord, and for removing those stones in our lives and giving us resurrection life with You forever.  Help us to be salt and light and to make a difference... to Your glory, Lord, to Your glory.
     To the Savior who removes stones, who restores, who resurrects, be all the glory.
   

Prisoners of Hope

     Early yesterday morning, after a long night in the recliner chair by Janie's bed, a doctor came into her room.  If you have spent any time in a hospital, you know how you anxiously wait and look for the doctor to come by to give you any kind of information on, for them,  just another patient, but, for you, is your precious-beyond-words baby daughter.  We were awaiting the results of her MRI the night before, and this doctor who I'd never seen before came in to tell me his prognosis.
     I won't go into what he said, but suffice it to say, it was devastating and took me to dark, scary places no mother ever wants to contemplate with their child.  This is not to say he was mean in any way, it's just that his medically direct words sucked the hope from my heart.  He made it clear, however, as we know quite well by now, that the brain is a mysterious thing and we just don't know and can't predict the outcome of all this.  Believe me, I'm being intentionally vague here, because I refuse to repeat ever again words that rob my daughter of the best of whatever God has in mind for her future.  "'For I know the plans I for you,' declares the Lord, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, to give you hope and a future.'" (Jer.29:11)  I don't know what that will look like for her, but I'm trusting God that His plans are always ultimately for our good and His glory.
     After he left, I felt numb and hollowed out.  I rushed out of ICU, and there was our sweet friend and  pastor, Russ, standing just outside with his Bible.  This is just how God has worked over and over and over again the past few days--just when despair threatens to swallow you, God rushes in with a friend's incredible kindness or a sweet text or an encouraging nurse or the voice of a loved one sharing something that only God could have given them for that just moment.  It's hard to explain, but it's just amazing.. and wonderful.
     But there was Russ, and after I had choked out what the doctor had said, we went back to Janie's room.  I told her I loved her and while I called my husband, Russ prayed over her and read her God's Word.  I weep as I write this thinking of God's grace being poured out through Russ and so many others.  O Lord Jesus, there is nothing, and I mean nothing, like the body of Christ.  What a gift beyond measure--this army of friends, comforting, encouraging, loving, and fighting with us and for us in this battle for Janie.
     My sweet sister, Jane, came into the room (again, thank You Lord Jesus for my family--all my dear brothers and sisters and their spouses--there simply are no words for this treasure in my life), and we wept together but kept telling Janie we loved her and to keep fighting.
     And then, as my dear husband put it later, hope rushed into the room.
     And hope's name was Dr. Touche.  I have no earthly idea how to spell his name, but I think the best spelling might just be H-O-P-E.  He had a very direct, quick, decisive manner.  And I recognized his name, because we had been told by some friends that he was an excellent, incredibly well-respected neurosurgeon. He looked at my sister Jane and me and asked us  in a quick clip: "Well, how is she?"
     Jane and I, teary eyed and still empty, sort of mumbled, Uh, She's doing well" or something equally bland.  I asked him if he had seen the MRI report, and he briskly responded yes, and then proceeded to go over to Janie and shout in her ear, "JANIE, WAKE UP!  JANIE WAKE UP!"  Jane and I looked at each other like with expressions that seemed to say: "Does this man have any idea what he's doing?  Doesn't he know what is going on here and how desperate this situation is?"  Janie did not wake ,up but she moved around a lot and seemed not at all happy to have been disturbed.
     Suffice it say, in his short few minutes with us, this man, for whom if I could have another child we would name him or her Touche, gave us incredible hope.  "One day, I fully expect that your daughter could walk into my office and say thank you."   My sister and I both burst into tears.  I hugged him.  I'm sure he thought we were nuts.  Again, he made it clear we have no idea with the brain, there are no guarantees, and progress will be measured in slow inches, not miles,  but there is great hope and he was  optimistic.
     Suddenly, everything had changed.  We went from staring the most desperate dark possibility in the face to being flooded with the reminder that "With God all things are possible."  (Mt.19:26)  We felt giddy with joy--we had a fighting chance.  Janie had a fighting chance--that is all we asked for--that God would give her an opportunity to bring Him glory with her life.
     We rushed out to tell Russ, and he immediately said, "We are going to start reading her the Word--filling her ears with God's supernatural, powerful Word."  Yes, I thought!!  Of course, why had I not thought of that before?  If Janie could hear us somehow deep deep down (and I believe she can), I bet she's thinking, "Seriously, Mom,  can you think of anything else to say besides 'We love you we love you, Janie!'"  God's Word--God's life-giving, explosively powerful, but perfectly peaceful and eternally encouraging Word!  Read her the Word!  Sing her the Word!
     Anything is possible--because we have HOPE!
     My husband and I talked about it later.  He said of that terrible half hour between these two dramatically different doctor visits: "That was the first time in my whole life where I had absolutely no hope.  And it was horrible, awful."  There are simply no words--and I will not go there, ever again. "But then," Richard said, "hope rushed into the room."  And it truly did--like a cleansing rush of pure clear mountain air.
     Because you see, with Christ, we ALWAYS have hope!
     Just recently I read these words in my Bible (again, our Sovereign Lord knew how I would need these treasures in a few short days): "As for you also, because of the blood of my covenant with you, I will set your prisoner free from the waterless pit.  Return to your stronghold, O prisoners of hope; today I declare to you that I will restore you double." (Zech. 9:11-12)  O Lord Jesus, how we pray You would release Janie from the waterless pit and free her to serve and glorify You.
     But that is what we are: "prisoners of hope."  How I love that!  We are not prisoners of despair or of fear, but prisoners of hope.  Hebrews calls it the "sure and steadfast anchor of the soul"--"We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever after the order of Melchizedek." (Heb. 6:19-20)
     Because we have Christ, we are prisoners of hope in Him.  And is a sure and steadfast, never failing, never inadequate hope, because He is always more than enough.
     I love how Charles Spurgeon put it in something my husband and I just read early this morning (again, God's grace--just appeared in our email this morning from a daily devotion we receive--grace upon grace upon grace.  Our God is relentlessly good!):

"Jesus has never given the slightest ground
for suspicion, and it is hard to be doubted by those to whom our conduct is
uniformly affectionate and true. Jesus is the Son of the Highest, and has
unbounded wealth; it is shameful to doubt Omnipotence and distrust
all-sufficiency. The cattle on a thousand hills will suffice for our most
hungry feeding, and the granaries of heaven are not likely to be emptied by
our eating. If Christ were only a cistern, we might soon exhaust his fulness,
but who can drain a fountain? Myriads of spirits have drawn their supplies
from him, and not one of them has murmured at the scantiness of his resources."  

     Such is our God and there is none other.  And we are prisoners of His hope.  So we will place our hope in Him as we face this long, tough battle.  As one of my sweet friends just came by and said, "Don't place your trust in what the doctors say; place your trust in the Truth."  Yep, God's eternal, powerful Word... well, that and dear Dr. Touche-Hope! 

     I don't know where you are today, but everybody needs hope, and I want to remind you that in Christ we have it in overwhelming, staggering abundance.  Boy, I know life can be hard, and we are all fighting battles of one kind or another, but I want you to emblazon on your heart, as we are on ours--In Christ, we are prisoners of hope.  And He will never fail you.  Anchor your hope and your heart in Him.  

     And when, like me, you forget and start to listen to those voices of "what if" or "how will we handle that if..." then we'll go back to His Word and counsel our hearts with the Truth and remind ourselves that we are His prisoners of hope.  We are all in this together... and the Savior and Redeemer and Restorer is in it with us too.. forever faithful.

     Last night, I came home to spend the night to be with the boys, and as we sat down to dinner, I looked up at the platter we keep beside our kitchen table.  And there it was again--like I said, this God of ours, He's relentless.  That's it in the picture above: "Faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see."  (Heb.11:1)  That is our faith--anchored steadfastly in a relentlessly good and faithful God.  And so we will fight on--in Him,  in His Truth, in His hope.

     Thank You, Lord Jesus, for being the God of all hope and for pouring out Your grace upon us, your desperately needy children.  Daily remind us that we are Your prisoners of hope and bring Your healing and redemption and power and peace and love into the battles we all face.  To the God of Hope be all the glory.

     
     

Fighting... but not alone

     It is 1:00 in the morning, and my daughter and I wage war.  She lies in her hospital bed, impossibly beautiful and serene, while hooked up to all kinds of wires and machines that aid her in her fight, while her mama fights fear with faith, despair with God's promises.  His Word becomes to me a supernatural weapon of power and strength and solace that at various moments in our battle comes alive, piercing the darkness with Truth.  And so we fight.
     But we do not fight alone.
     For we fight with an army beside us, behind us, before us.  Even at this moment, the army of the body of Christ fights with us and for us.  Praying when we have no words or strength left.  Praying for my daughter's battle against bleeding and swelling in the brain.  Praying for our peace.  Praying for God's supernatural healing.  Praying for His peace, His enabling, His will, His love, His Light in our darkness.  And we feel their prayers.  Almost palpable, we feel their precious prayers, many through tears, filling us with His presence and perseverance and patience in this long, hard struggle.  We feel the prayers of my daughter's high school friends, so young, so uncertain, and yet so fervent in the only way they know to fight for their friend.  And the prayers of our dear friends and family and family of faith--O how they fill us with determination when we are desperate and with faith when fear assaults.  They are our Aaron and Hur, holding up our arms so that we can continue to wage this war.
     Thank You thank You thank You, Father, for this body of Christ.  Never before have I so experienced the incredible gift and power and love of Your body of believers who just seem to overflow with Your grace in our hour of greatest need.
     But most of all, as I look out the window in our darkened room and see the glowing moon, I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that the Lion of Judah fights for us in this room.  I have felt His presence and power in this tiny cubicle of flashing lights and beeping sounds of monitors.  He is here right now, undergirding, filling, fighting, calming, loving, breathing His Life and Light and Love.  No, in the darkness of this night, my daughter and I, we are not alone, for He is with us and for us and around us and in us.
      O how I thank Him.  O how I love Him.  For He knows what it is to fight against death and despair, against fear and pain.  He fought it at the cross and won.  And so, too, one day we all will win.  We may lose a war or two along the way, but our ultimate victory is assured.  And so we fight on.
     We do not know how or when our war will end.  The way ahead is long and hard and uncertain.  But we do not fight alone.  With the prayers and love of the body of Christ, with the powerful presence of our Savior, the Lion of Judah, we will continue to wage war, and, by the grace of God, we will not give up or give in.  Fighting fear with faith.  Fighting worry with the Word.  Fighting swelling and brain injury with supernatural prayer and belief.
    And even as we wage our war, we pray for and with our friends who fight their own battles--whether against disease or doubt or despair.  For my daughter's dear friends hurt in the same car accident--O Father, help and heal them and use this all for glory in their lives and in the lives of a watching world.  For friends battling cancer or struggling with addictions or mental illness--Lord, we don't know all that others are facing, but You do, and You are with them.  Be their mighty Lion of Judah. Be the Light in their darkness.  Be their All in All and fight for them.
     The last 30 hours have been a blur of battle for us.  But in the midst of it all, God has flooded my heart with His Word from the gospel of John.  When fear overwhelms us, He is our Peace.  He is our Living Water.  He is our Good Shepherd.  He is our Light.  He is our Bread of Life.  He is our Door.  He is our Resurrection and the Life.
      Last night, in the darkness, as my husband and I stood by our daughter's bed, I almost desperately tried to talk to her, encourage her, pray for her, and my dear husband quietly reminded me: "The Lord is keeping her company. She is not alone."  And suddenly I remembered, "The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:5)  "Jesus, " I silently prayed, "thank You for keeping her company.  Be her Light in her darkness."
     And He was... and He is.  And He is mine as well.  In this darkness, His Light shines and shines.
     And so my daughter and I, on this quiet dark night, we fight on.  But not alone.  Never alone.  Thank You Jesus.  I think I can hear You roar.
     To God, our Savior, our Lion of Judah, be all the glory.

The Bent Trombone

     We continue to enjoy the "joyful noise" (though surely never before heard quite like this--who knew a musical instrument could produce such sounds) emanating from our 5th grader's trombone at our house.  To say we are novices when it comes to the trombone would be a vast understatement.  We know NOTHING about trombones--although I have always admired their remarkable sliding ways and sounds!  But has total ignorance and inability ever stopped us before?  Never!  In the words of King Henry V: "Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more!"
     And so Peter valiantly blows away producing...  well... unique and joyful noises.  Last night, however, we figured out we had a problem (mind you, after only one class in band at school and one night of "practice").  The trombone we rented from the music store was defective. Clearly.  Plain as day, anyone could see that one arm of the trombone was bent.  Bent!  No wonder!
     Moreover, despite our best and determined efforts, once the two pieces of the instrument were assembled, we could not pull it apart to put it back in the case!  Geez--we had only had this trombone about a week.  Peter got on one end and I got on the other and puuuuullllled and pulled... and the instrument remained stubbornly stuck together.  Only the efforts of Dad saved the day in finally managing to wrench it apart.
     We all agreed: the trombone was bent and clearly defective and must be returned to the store.  I guess this is what you get when you rent them used.  They sure don't make 'em like they used to.
     So, this morning, I drove and drove and drove and drove to outer Mongolia where the music store is located.  We're talking so far out there that I saw no Starbucks to keep me going on my long trek.  But you know us intrepid moms--we will jump tall buildings or run through fire or walk on glass or drive vast and faraway distances to replace a defective musical instrument for her child.
     When I finally arrived at the music store, I confidently strode in holding the defective trombone and quickly explained the problem--bent, unable to pull apart, need a new trombone.  Easy as pie.
     Until the nice older man patiently explained to this ignorant mama that all trombones are bent--the bent section makes it more comfortable to rest on your shoulder.  Ahhh.  Okay, that's actually a really great idea.  I wonder who thought of that?  Sigh.  Thinking of slinking out of the store.
     But wait there's more: there's a reason we couldn't wrench it apart.  When pulling the two pieces apart, you are supposed to turn one side a quarter of a turn to release it and then, ta-da, it pulls apart effortlessly.  Well, of course.  No longer thinking of slinking out... I think I will run out of the store before they burst into loud guffaws.
     Incredibly, this remarkably patient and understanding man and, by now, another woman he had called in to deal with the "defective" trombone, did not burst out laughing.  They didn't even chuckle... maybe just a smile or two as they explained this all to the ignoramus mama.  But I bet they screamed with laughter when I sheepishly walked out the door.
     So, in case you're wondering, all trombones are bent... on purpose.  I couldn't help but think of something I heard years ago.  Martin Luther once wrote: "God can use a crooked stick to draw a straight line."  Boy, aren't you glad?  He can and will use our mess ups, our failures, our faults, our weaknesses that seem so hopelessly bent and crooked, and He can make something magnificently straight and beautiful with them.
     What a God we serve!  He takes our worst and transforms it into His best.  I'm thinking right now of John 21 and the good old apostle Peter.  How can you not love Peter?--impulsive, loving, loyal, so confident of His faith in Christ and yet denying the Savior he loved so dearly not once, but three times. Christ could have given up on Peter.  After all,  three strikes you're out.  We would have written him off.  What a loser, what a failure.
     But not in the loving, grace-filled eyes of Peter's Redeemer and Savior.  Three times in John 21 Jesus asks Peter, "Do you love Me?"  And then three times Christ commands him to feed My sheep.  One time for every denial.  Three times Christ reaffirms His plan to use Peter mightily--three times for Peter's three failures.
     God was not finished with Peter.  O no, He had only just begun to use the rugged, rash fisherman in ways infinitely beyond anything Peter could have ever imagined.  Think of how Peter's failures- transformed-into-faithfulness have blessed and encouraged countless Christians through the ages.  Thank You Lord for using weak and frail and fault-prone individuals like Peter and Samson and Moses and David and Rahab and Isaac and on and on.  If God could forgive and use them, then surely He will forgive and use us too!
     He is the God of second and third and fourth chances--if we will but come to Him in repentance and dependance.  It's really true: with God, failure is never final.  Not at the foot of the cross.  Not with a Savior who died to redeem His beloved children--His bent, crooked sticks.
     He makes all things new and enables crooked sticks to draw straight lines.  We may be bent, but if He is our Savior and Lord, then we are loved and forgiven and empowered to be used by our magnificent Redeemer.
     The Apostle Peter would tell you: don't quit because of failure.  Don't let a bent trombone or a broken relationship or a twisted failure or a crooked past prevent you from humbly coming to the Savior for forgiveness and restoration.  He loves to use bent and crooked sticks, and He'll enable you to draw straight lines for your greater good and His greater glory.   To our Savior, our Redeemer, our Restorer, be all the glory.
   
     

A joyful noise

     "Make a joyful noise to the Lord, all the earth!  Serve the Lord with gladness! Come into His presence with singing!  Know that the the Lord, He is God!  It is He who made us, and we are His; we are His people, and the sheep of His pasture.  Enter His gates with thanksgiving, and His courts with praise! Give thanks to Him, bless His name!  For the Lord is good; His steadfast love endures forever, and His faithfulness to all generations."  Ps.100
      School has started--and trumpet practice has begun.  We are making all kinds of "joyful NOISE to the Lord" around our house these days.  And believe me, with a first-time trumpet player, noise is the operative word... but it is joyful!  Aren't you thankful God didn't instruct us to make a perfect, harmonious sound to the Lord?  Or a well-practiced, pleasing song to the Lord?  Or a "get-it-all-together and then come before the Lord of Lords with your ideal, flawless performance of ultimate beauty?
     Nope--He just says, essentially, "Bring it on!"  Bring on your noise of clanging symbols or off-key singing or ear-splitting strange-sounding trumpet blowing--as long as it's with a joyful heart offered to the King of Kings.  He's not interested in our perfect performance but in our praise-filled heart.  He doesn't care if we enter His gates all fancy and gussied up --only that we enter with gratitude.  It's not about how we sound or look--it's about hearts overflowing with thankfulness to the One who saved us and loves us with an everlasting love.
     And it's not about how well we behave or how much we accomplish or how well we measure up--it's about His grace and goodness towards us.  And in Him, we more than measure up--because it's all about our perfect Savior and not our perfect performance.  It's not about us doing, doing, doing and trying harder.  It's about what He has DONE and finished on our behalf on the cross.  So we can rest in Him and His redemptive work on our behalf... and be grateful.
     Because "It is finished" and because of all we have and are in the Lord Jesus, we can truly "make a joyful noise to the Lord" and "come into His presence with singing!"  How can we not enter His presence filled with thanksgiving?!   Don't worry about perfection.  Forget about getting it all together before coming before Him.
     Just come.  Come with thanksgiving.  Come messy, come disorganized, come singing off-key... but just come.  Come with a song in your heart to the One who has always always always had you on His heart and who died so that you might come to Him and be with Him forever.  For He is good and "His steadfast love endures forever and His faithfulness to all generations."   He will forever be faithful--despite our unfaithfulness and our failures.
     So make a joyful noise to our faithful, forever loving Lord today.  Come before Him with blasting trumpet, if necessary, but come with a thankful, surrendered heart.  To God be the glory.
   

No cake... but love!

     The cake is all gone.
     Seriously, that entire, big, beautiful Edible Art cake is completely gone--in less that 24 hours.  The Fountains are like a ravenous horde of locusts... at least when it comes to cake.  Here today and gone, well, today.  I'm sad--only had one piece.  Sigh.  But life will surely provide more occasions worthy of celebration--losing a tooth, starting school, studying for a test, taking the test, folding a huge load of laundry or unloading all the groceries.  You just have to get creative when it comes to celebrating life, with cake, of course!
     But looking at the forlorn crumbs left from the decimated cake plate reminds me again of the beautiful brevity of life.  Our oldest daughter has already returned to Charlotte.  Our son leaves in a few days for college.  Our dog, Moses, remains at a  heightened state of alert due to the suitcases accumulating in the hall.  He hates suitcases, because they mean someone is leaving... and he doesn't want to get left behind.  I know the feeling.  This children growing up and leaving home stuff is totally for the birds.  How I want to grasp them all tightly and just keep them right here with us always--only without all the laundry and messy rooms--to laugh and share and grow and celebrate life.
     That option does not, however, seem to be on the table.  So in the meantime, we rejoice in the moments we have.  We laugh, we talk, we learn, we cry, we play, we work, we love.  And we eat cake, because life must be celebrated with those you love.  Lord, help us to treasure every second of this crazy, challenging adventure.  And Father, might not one hour pass without us reminding those we love, whether in words or actions, that we LOVE them!  We have forever in heaven, praise God, but we have only a few short years on this planet in which to love sacrificially and fully those the Lord has placed in our lives.
     Help us to love, Lord.  To love You first and foremost and then to love others.  "This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you." (John 15:12)  And Jesus tells us this is the mark of a Christian--how they love.   "By this all people will know that you are My disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:35)  O might others know we are Christians by the way we love--exuberantly, fully, sacrificially, joyfully.  Might we love not just in words but in actions.  Might we love based not upon emotion, but based upon our Savior's example and enabling power.
       Lord Jesus, teach us and help us--by the power of Your Holy Spirit--to love as You loved.  Give us more love, Lord.  To God be the glory.

Celebrate with cake!

     Happy Birthday, May May (our 23 year old--which means her mom and dad are old as dirt)!  And this, my friends, is a picture of pure bliss--Edible Art almond birthday cake.  Life is good.  Very very good... especially when it involves cake of any kind.  "Oh taste and see that the Lord is good!  Blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him." (Ps.34:8)  Life is short and deserves to be celebrated--and our God is so good.  Might we rejoice in Him and His gifts.  Preferably with lots and lots of cake.
     We have had the joy of having all our children home this weekend.  Our oldest daughter is here from Charlotte so we can all celebrate her birthday, and our oldest son is still home until next week when he returns to college.   Who could have dreamed but a few years ago when our home seemed like constant chaos and clutter (okay, it still does), children were everywhere, and the days never seemed to end with all the soccer games and basketball practices and golf matches and singing concerts that we would soon bemoan our children having grown up and moved away to college and work?  But it happened all too soon.  We thank the Lord that we still have three at home, but those days are growing ever shorter as well.  It's so true: "The days are long but the years are short."  
     So right now, we rejoice in having them all home!   For all the trouble and work and exhaustion, children truly are our greatest gifts and treasures.  How we thank the Lord for each of them! An old Amish proverb reminds us: "Children are the living messages we send to a time we will not see."   Might they bring God glory as they share His message of love and redemption and grace into the distant future.
     Today, celebrate God's goodness to you in the people He has graciously placed in your life--your spouse, your children, your siblings, your parents, your friends.  "O give thanks to the Lord, for He is good;  For His lovingkindness is everlasting." (IChron.16:34)  "...in everything give thanks, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you." (I Thess. 5:18)  Find someone, find something for which to give thanks to the King of Kings and the Giver of all good gifts... and then celebrate, preferably with cake!  Remember, we are to "taste and see that the Lord is good!"  There's a verse you can sink your teeth into!  To God, our joyous Lord, be all the glory.

Planted by the Living Water

     "Blessed is the man who walks not in the counsel of the wicked... but his delight is in the law of the Lord, and on His law he meditates day and night.  He is like a tree planted by streams of water that yields its fruit in season, and its leaf does not wither.  In all he does he prospers." (Ps.1:1-4)
    We read these words this morning before my youngest child's first day of school, and, of course, my mind meandered back to Cane River (sorry, just one more time!).  I recalled all the lush green trees and bushes hanging on the edge of the rushing stream and couldn't help but pray: "O Lord, might we be continually saturated by Your enabling, powerful, perfect Presence like those verdant, well-waterd trees growing beside Cane River."  We never saw any dead, shriveled trees up there--or at least any trees dead due to drought or moisture loss.  Nothing brown or dried-up or desperate looking--unlike our yard which seems to continually and futilely cry out for water.  Just deep, rich green trees and bushes and shrubs lining the flowing, life-giving waters of the stream.
     God tells us in Psalm 1 that we can be like those continually well-fed trees when we meditate on His Word day and night.  His Word brings us solace in our sorrows, calm in our chaos, strength in our weakness, hope in our anxiety, wisdom in our confusion, perspective in our perplexities, and light in our darkness.
     Jesus promised that "whoever drinks of the water that I will give him will never be thirsty again.  The water that I will give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life." (John 4:14)  He provides all that we need; He is all that we need.  And in His Word we are nourished and satiated and satisfied fully, richly, perpetually.
     His Word truly is a continual feast for our thirsty souls, if we will but come to Him and drink.  Might we choose to be planted by His Living Water so that we will be like those well-watered, flourishing trees.
     But I need  to add that life for those trees growing by Cane River is far from easy.  The winters are extraordinarily harsh and long high up there in the mountains.  The snow storms fierce, the winds bitter and biting, the temperatures frigid,  the warm sun and gentle summer temperatures a distant memory come the lonely wintertime.
     Being planted by the stream does not exempt the trees--or us--from life's fierce and sometimes frightening storms. Yet, in the midst of the storms, the trees are anchored deeply and safely by the nourishing waters.  They remain strong while trusting, waiting, knowing that with spring's renewal, God will make all things new.
     And He always does.  Maybe not today or tomorrow, but one day.
     And He will for us as well... even in the midst of our seemingly impossible and relentless storms.  His Word remains our constant, never-failing, life-giving Stream.
      So while the storms rage, we wait and trust and stay anchored in His Word.  And when the summer sun returns, we rejoice and revive and grow.  Whatever our circumstances, when we are planted by His Living Water,  He feds us with His wisdom and peace and power and love and joy and grace flowing from His supernatural Word. Summer or winter, spring or fall, His Word never fails and always feeds.   Go to the River and be fed and fortified.  As one of my favorite songs puts it:

Holy words long preserved
For our walk in this world,
O let the ancient words impart
Courage, peace, a loving heart.

Words of Life, words of Hope
Give us strength, help us cope
In this world where ere' we roam
Ancient words will guide us home.

Ancient words, ever true
Changing me, and changing you.
O let the ancient words impart
A moving, quick incisive dart.

     He waits for you even now in His Ancient Word, ever true, ever new.  Go bath in His waters and be refreshed and renewed and restored.  To our Living Water, our great God, be all the glory.

Fishing and slowing down

     Our intrepid group of trout fisherpersons from Cane River.  Thank goodness we took this photo right before we braved the streams for the first time.  If we had a picture from later this same day, you would have seen a group of filthy, soaking wet, bruised, tired yet happy campers!  But at this point, we were still lookin' good and feeling hopeful that we might catch some rainbow trout (and throw them all back, of course) and escape unscathed from multiple falls on the slippery rocks.  Well, one out of two ain't bad!
     I just read the following by Ann Voscamp: "Life is not an emergency.  Life's a gift.  Just slow."  And "Sometimes the slowest way is the fastest way to joy.  Make time today, even a moment, to read Scripture and memorize it.  Without the lens of His Word, the world warps.  {Slowest=fastest to joy}"
     This reminded me of fishing.. and perhaps that is the reason so many people love to fish.  Because, believe me, fishing can be sloooooow.  Trout fishing is a bit different since you are constantly moving and climbing and hiding behind rocks, but still, even trout fishing requires inordinate amounts of patience.  Turns out these rainbow and brook trout are remarkably brilliant creatures and can spot us lumbering upstream a mile away.  They laugh at us as we make casts with out little trout flies landing gently on the rushing stream.  And they rarely, and I mean rarely, actually strike the fly.  Most of the time you just cast and cast and lumber along and fall and slip and stumble and cast some more... while the fish all just laugh and laugh. I'm glad we can entertain them.
     Yep, fishing requires patience and the gift of slowing down.  If you try to move quickly on the slippery rocks, you can just forget it--you are going down... hard.  So you have to climb carefully and slowly and deliberately.  And with that slower pace you just can't help but drink in the incredible beauty all around you.  At every turn, a new vista of God's untamed glory--all to be seen and savored sloooowly.

          Why do I live my life as if everything is an emergency?  Why do I always feel as if I have to rush and hurry... and as a result, worry?  O Lord, slow us down to see and savor You and Your gifts to us each and every moment of every day.  In my haste, I miss the blessings of the small--the butterfly alighting on my book, the twinkle in a child's eye, the chorus of a beloved song, the sublime taste of chocolate lingering on my tongue, the sound of rushing water, the laughter and stories shared with my siblings, the hug of my husband, the clean, green scent of the woods, the whirring sound of hummingbird wings, the joy of reading God's Word and discovering His words just for you that day, the sound of a loved one's voice, the stars piercing the inky black sky, the crashing thunder that shakes the house, the joy of reading to my little guy at night, the smile on a teenager's face (yes, they actually can smile and the view is awesome!), the glint of sunlight on the leaves.
     How much do we miss every day in our haste and hurry?  Forgive us Father, and slow us down.  Like the fisherman patiently plumbing the depths of Your rushing waters, show us how to savor the journey rather than constantly rushing to reach the destination.  I don't want to miss the blessings You have for us along the way--all the surprises planned and planted along the path by our Sovereign Heavenly Daddy.  Help us not to miss them, Father, and remind us to be grateful.  Might we live this day seeing, savoring, and saying thank You.   To our gift-giving God be all the glory.

Behold the man!

     "So Jesus came out, wearing the crown of thorns and the purple robe.  Pilate said to them, 'Behold the man!'"
     I had just read these words in the predawn darkness this morning before I went out for a walk in the town where I grew up, Greensboro, NC.  My 15 year old son, Preyer, and I stayed here overnight, because he's playing here in a golf tournament (what else?).  I went for a walk around the neighborhood while those words, "Behold the man!  Behold the man!  Behold the man!" kept ringing in my ears.
     I thought back to the evening before, just 8 hours earlier, when Preyer had finished his first round in the tournament at Bryan Park in Greensboro.  Bryan Park features two spectacular public golf courses as well as some of the best soccer fields in the state.  It is a beautiful, peaceful tree-covered locale that is green and quiet.  But I wondered if any of the boys or girls playing in this tournament had any idea for whom the park is named.  I seriously doubt it.  And that is shameful.
     A great gentleman named Joe Bryan gave the money and provided the impetus for this lovely, world-class park.  All the competitors playing in the tournament had a meeting last night in a building on the park grounds that features a bronze statue of Joe Bryan with a plaque describing his remarkable life and extraordinary philanthropy.   While growing up in Greensboro, our family knew this fine old gentleman--in fact, I'm sure everyone either knew him or knew of him as he was a man of incredible influence and respect.   Both Joe Bryan and his wife passed away many years ago, but I still remember them well.
     When my son came out of the meeting, I practically dragged him over to the statue to tell him about the man who had made this whole place possible.  "He's the reason you are playing here!  He's the reason there are beautiful golf courses and practice ranges and soccer fields here.  You need to know about him!"  Of course, he had never heard of him, and I can say with virtual certitude that none of the other boys or girls in the tournament had either.   I wanted to run right into the meeting and shout to them: "Do you know why you can play here?  Let me tell you about Joe Bryan!"  Fortunately for my son, I restrained myself.  I already embarrass him enough simply by breathing.
     Such is fame and fortune and success and even respect in our world--fleeting, temporary, here today and forgotten tomorrow.  Every person reading this right now will be gone in less than 100 years... or 50... or less.  The most famous and successful among  us will one day perhaps be names on plaques at parks or athletic facilities or college buildings, and that is great.  But the people behind those names, the stories of their lives and accomplishments and who they really were, well, that will all be unknown and unrecognized.  Past all recollection except to their families and the people they loved most deeply.
     But towering above history's wreck of names, great or ignoble, good or evil, powerful or weak,  stands One who is the hinge of history.  All must one day confront Him and decide either to believe or to reject.   For over two thousand years, the great call of the ages has been: "Behold the man!"  Look at Him, behold Him in His Word and decide whether to believe like His tiny band of disciples or reject like the masses and the powerful religious elite of His day.
     But choose wisely for all of eternity rests upon your decision.
     Behold the infant born in a manger.  Behold the Great Physician healing the desperate and defeated.  Behold the Teacher encouraging and guiding and leading.  Behold the Suffering Servant, beaten and bruised, giving His life for each of us.  Behold the Risen Savior--resurrected from the grave to new life and new hope and victory over sin and death.
     And behold the Lord who will one day come again in unimaginable glory and power--and at whose presence every knee in the universe will bow and every tongue confess that Jesus is Lord.
     Behold the Man.  Behold the Lord.  And believe.
     And know that with believing, you will live forever and ever and ever with Him, in glory.  Never forgotten, never forsaken.  Never just an unremembered name.  But alive and loved and redeemed forever--the abundant, joyous, glorious Life with a capital "L."
     Might we each this day, "Behold the Man!"  Throughout our lives, throughout our days, throughout our hours of every day, Father, help us to behold You and believe, and in believing, live abundantly and joyously to Your glory.
   Behold and believe.   To the Man, to the God, to our Savior, be all the glory.

Supernatural Signature

     Well, we arrived back home to the heat and the busyness and the laundry and the back to school emails and the disorganized house and the stacks of mail... and I think all the noise and mess and urgent urgent urgent needs caused me to forget.  Forget the glory of God on full display at our old log cabin nestled beneath the peaceful gaze of Mt. Mitchell.  Caused me to forget the joy of laughing and sharing and fishing and eating with my irreplaceable brothers and sisters and husband and children and nephews and nieces.  Caused me to forget the peace of crystalline pools of water or dense groves of rhododendron and birch and poplar and beech trees.
     Caused me to forget the power and the wonder of furiously rushing waters, tumbling waterfalls, spilling gallons and gallons of pure water every second, day and night.  Caused me to forget that all that water reflected the real  Living Water--ever flowing, ever filling, ever refreshing, ever satisfying.  His Living Water, like the splashing, swirling, ever-flowing Cane River: always more than enough, always powerful beyond our comprehension, yet also always peaceful and pure and perfect.
       Forgive me Father, that it takes so little to throw me off kilter, weighted with frustration and worry over all I have to do.  Forgive me for forgetting Your glory.  I once heard God's glory described as His "supernatural signature."  When we witness the overwhelming beauty of the ocean or the mountains or the stars, it's His supernatural signature.  His signature that shouts, "God is real!  God is real!  God is powerful!  God is good!  Look and see His glory reflected in His creation!"
     "The heavens declare the glory of God, and the sky above proclaim His handiwork.  Day to day pours out speech, and night to night reveals knowledge." (Ps.19:1-2)
     Yesterday evening, our last hurrah before returning home the next morning, we had been out fishing and hiking all day.  Despite the beauty all around us, we were whipped!  Supper was calling and sore muscles from several days of multiple falls on slippery rocks, long hikes in soggy boots, coupled with old age, had conspired to cause us to be ready to start hiking back down the rocky, dirt road.. or at least for my husband and me!  But we were with two of our children who really wanted to hike just a little higher up so they could see up close the huge "Upper Blue Sea" waterfalls.  My husband and I figured we could see it from where we were, and we feared they were so  tired that any more climbing and slipping and crawling up the huge boulders would result in some terrible fall or a broken bone.  Nope, we insisted, we need to head on back down now.  The view from down below was still great, we insisted (that's it in the picture above--you can just see the big waterfall in the far background between the trees), and it was infinitely safer.  They were crushed, but started back down with us.
     But sometimes, thankfully, God speaks in that still small voice, and even more thankfully, sometimes we listen and heed His good word.
     As we started hiking back down, we suddenly paused and said, "Okay, go for it."  Just like that, our children turned around excitedly and practically ran back up the path.  My husband and I, on the other hand, trudged, slightly irritated and tired, but up we went.
       We climbed through impossibly thick and tangled rhododendron, clung onto protruding roots, slide along slimy rocks and tried not to kill ourselves.  We came out muddy and gasping through the brush and saw:

     God's supernatural signature.
     Sometimes His choicest gifts require time and sacrifice and effort.  Sometimes we just have to say no to our to do lists and our schedules and our chores and our worries and just go a bit higher, dig a bit deeper and trust that He has something better for us on the other side of our discomfort or fear or sorrow or struggle.  Sometimes joy is just on the other side or just around the bend or just up ahead... but you have to be willing to endure the pain to get there.
     But, boy, is it worth it.  I will never forget that wondrous moment of feeling the mist from the powerfully tumbling waters and watching the unmitigated joy on the faces of my children and seeing close-up and firsthand the glory of God.   He is worth it every single time.
     So wherever you are, keep hiking, keep going,  keep trying, keep trusting.  His glory is just ahead.  To God be the glory.

A quick thanksgiving!

     First fish--life is good!
     Greetings from Cane River--aka paradise at the base of Mt. Mitchell.  All my brothers and sisters and many of all of our children are all staying in a big old log cabin nestled in the mountains and perched right beside the beautiful Cane River.  We fish various parts of the stream during the day and then enjoy enormous meals together at a long battered table in the cabin.  The stunning beauty of God's creation happily assaults your senses--the lush, verdant scents, the clear rushing water, the slippery majestic rocks, the tumbling waterfalls, the cool air, the soothing sounds of rushing waters.
     Yet we enjoy not just the beauty of the place but the blessing of the fellowship with all our family.  How we love sharing old stories, laughing over silly memories, discussing books or fish or anything else under the sun.
     Gifts and more gifts.
     "For everything created by God is good, and nothing is to be rejected if it is received with thanksgiving." (I Tim.4:4)
     Thank You Lord for the gifts of flashing rainbow trout, green hills, fluffy clouds, powerful thunderstorms, warm sun, old log cabins, sisters and brothers, shared memories, good food when you're hungry, cool air, hot tea, laughter, and family.
     And now, though there is so much more to say, my husband is standing over me waiting to head back to the stream.  Sigh.  So, typing can wait, family cannot.  But thankYou, Father, for all that You have created is very very good, and we receive each and everything with thanksgiving!  To God be the glory.
   

Praying in Faith

     I've recently been reading in John about the last night of the Lord Jesus' earthly life and the treasure trove of wisdom and encouragement and truth that He gives His beloved disciples.  Only He knows what the following terrible hours will bring and all the confusion, despair, fear, and doubt that will assail His chosen ones.
     As I read His words, I thought of our Savior lovingly, but urgently, sharing the deepest things of His heart with this tiny band of believers late into the dark watches of the night.  All the while, His sleepy-eyed disciples listen, grateful,  but increasingly perplexed and concerned about what He is telling them.  Little do they know how they will return to the bittersweet but beautiful memory of this quiet final evening with their Lord and all His precious words as they recall and contemplate every truth He was teaching them... and us.  We have these very words of Christ enabling us to be right there with the disciples on that dark, still evening, listening to the Savior and savoring His every word.  We all value and record for posterity the "last words" spoken before someone's death--and here we have the very words of God as He prepared to die as a man for us.  Consider that for a moment:  Almighty God.  Almighty God's last words.  Almighty God's last words before dying.  God dying for us.  Incredible.
     There is so much there, every word saturated with His grace and love.  As I read Jesus' words in John, I feel completely inadequate to even begin to contemplate the depths of His meaning and His heart.  Such riches expressing how much He loves us and all He will do for us as well as about how we should love, how we should serve, how we should abide, how we should pray and on and on.  
     But for today, I have just been struck by a verse on prayer (since I"m reading a wonderful devotion on prayer with some friends):  "Truly, truly I say to you, whatever you ask of the Father in my name, He will give it to you.  Until now you have asked nothing in my name.  Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full." (John 16:23-24)
     Honestly, these kinds of verses have always troubled me a bit--they sound a little like "name it and claim it" or "prosperity gospel" kind of promises that I just don't fully understand.  We have all prayed prayers that God seemingly didn't answer in the way we hoped, and we wonder, what's wrong?  We search in vain for some magic formula or some addition to our faith that might enable our prayers to fall within this "whatever you ask... He will give it to you" promise.
     But there's no formula.  And there's no magic.  There's something much greater, more mysterious, and infinitely more powerful: a sovereign, all-wise, all-loving, all-powerful God.
     We pray in faith to a God who hears our every prayer and answers according to His perfect will and plan and for our greater good.  So how do we reconcile our unanswered prayers with this promise of "whatever you ask... He will give to you?"   That was where I struggled.  And then I read this by Alvin Vandergriend:
     "Praying in faith is not an inner conviction that God will act according to our desires if only we believe hard enough.  It involves believing that God will always respond to our prayers in accord with His nature, His purposes, and His praises.
     God does not want us simply to toss requests at Him, hoping that some of them will be answered.  He wants us to ask, knowing He is there, claiming what He promises, trusting that He will act in line with His nature and that His purposes will be achieved.  That's praying in faith.
      When you ask a person for something in good faith, you don't ask for something the person would not be willing to give.  I could never, for example, ask my parents to give me more than my share of their inheritance.  I know them too well to make such a selfish and unfair request. Similarly, if you truly know God, you will only ask for what is in accord with His will and not anything that is purely selfish."
     Wow.  That is so true.  The more we come to know God, the more we will love Him.  And the more we love Him,  the more we will trust Him.  And the more we trust Him, the more we will pray in faith and in accordance with His will.  And the more we pray according to His will, the more exciting and supernatural answers we will experience in response to our prayers.  No wonder Jesus said, "Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full."  Answers to prayer and fullness of joy--sign us up for that, Lord!  But it begins with knowing and loving Him better and better.
     Help us, Father, to know and love You more intimately today than yesterday.  Increase our faith and enable us to pray in faith in accordance with Your will, because we know and love our Abba.  And might we see Your mighty hand at work in our lives in response to our prayers.  To God be the glory.
     

   

Let your Light shine

     One angel candle in the darkness... no camera flash, no indirect window light, nothing.  Just one tiny little flame flickering delicately deep within the candle--and the darkness flees.  The power of light.
     Last night I awoke in the middle of the night.  The house was dark and quiet, but my brain couldn't seem to slow down.  Isn't it funny how anxious thoughts and oppressively long to-do lists seem to multiply and flourish in the darkness?   The same worries and concerns that weigh us down in the night watches and cost us restful slumber seem to shrink into proper proportion with the dawn of the morning rays.   Somehow the new day encourages us that God is in control, as we truly experience that His mercies are new every morning.   "The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; His mercies never come to an end;  they are new every morning;  great is Your faithfulness." (Lam. 3:22-23)
     Boy, we know that in the morning light, but so often the darkness can veil that great truth from our frenzied minds.   In addition to their antithetical appearances, there's just something intrinsically and dramatically different in our hearts and minds between the light and the darkness, isn't there?  We can fear the dark, but not the light.   The darkness clouds our vision, but not the light.  We can lose our way or experience cold or loneliness or despair to a much greater degree in the darkness than in the light.  Darkness hides: light illuminates.
     And our Savior declared that "I am the Light of the World.  Whoever follows Me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life." (John 8:12)  John tells us that "In Him was life, and the life was the light of men.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." (John 1:4-5)  He is our Light!  He lights our paths and illumines our hearts and minds.  His light overcomes the darkness of our hard hearts and our fretting minds.  O how thankful I am that He is the Light of the World, the Light of my world!  Even in the darkest night, I have my Light with me.
     But the Lord Jesus also made it clear that we are now the light of the world, and we are to let our light shine: "You are the light of the world.  A city set on a hill cannot be hidden.  Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house.  In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." (Mt.5:14-16)
     As I was driving along in the car today, I pondered these words.  I thought about how my menacing concerns during the night always grew much smaller and more manageable in the light.  Jesus is my Light, and yet how quickly I can lapse into fretting over worries or fussing over work to be done.  Forgive me, Father!  And how is that letting my light shine?  How can I reflect the light of Jesus to my world or to my family if I'm anxious or restless or discontent?
     And then it hit me: Jesus tells us that we "are" the light of the world--not "maybe someday if you work really hard," or "if you really improve," or "if you are super-spritual," or "if you have tremendous faith."  Nope, He simply tells us we ARE the light of the world.  Why?--because HE is the Light of the World, and if He is our Savior then He is our Light and our life.  Once again, it's not about us manufacturing the light or trying really hard or earning it in someway--it's all by Him, all for Him, all of Him, all in Him.  He's the Light--we just reflect His light.
     In the same way, aren't you thankful He urges us to "let your light shine?"   He doesn't tell us to go out and find the light or do your best to be the light or somehow or other make the light or find the light within.  Our task is infinitely simpler and more glorious--our only job is to LET the light shine.   Because He is the Light, we daily have the choice and the privilege of letting the light shine.  We determine with our attitude, with our actions, with our thoughts, with our words, whether we will let His light shine or whether we will cloud and dim and hide His light.  But the light, His Light, is there--we just have to let His light shine through us.
     Whew, thank You Jesus that You are the Light of the World!  You are our Light.  And You will shine Your Light through us if we will simply let Your Light shine.  Shine on, Lord shine on, and help us to let Your light shine as we reflect You.  To our Light of the World be all the glory.

What about tomorrow?

     It's packing day.  Sigh.  Leaving these cool, beautiful mountains to head back to heat and chores and gearing up for back to school.   Mercy, back to school and schedules and homework and deadlines. Lord, help me to remember that Your grace is always sufficient.  How quickly we can forget that our Father won't give us today, on this peaceful Lord's day, what we will need tomorrow or next week.  Nope, He doles out His manna solely on a daily basis. But greedy, worried girl that I am, I want to either hoard today's manna for tomorrow or borrow tomorrow's manna for today.
      Lord, when will we trust that You'll give us exactly what we need tomorrow, when tomorrow actually arrives?   We don't want to be like the grumbling Israelites in the desert--always looking back with regret and ahead with fear and doubt.   You are our faithful God who never falters in even the smallest detail and who never fails to provide exactly what we need when we need it.
     If God can part the Red Sea and then swallow the pursuing Egyptians,  He can surely part the seemingly impossible paths ahead of us.  If God can send quail and manna to His hungry people, He can surely send us daily nourishment to encourage and empower and strengthen us in all our tomorrows.  If God can provide water out of rock to His desperate people, He can surely quench our thirsty souls with the Living Water that never disappoints and always satisfies.  If God can lead His people through the desert with a pillar of fire by night and a pillar of cloud by day, then He can surely guide and direct us and those we love in all our ways, for He has promised never to leave us or forsake us. (Heb. 13:5)
     "You have made known to me the path of life; You will fill me with joy in Your presence, with eternal pleasures at Your right hand." (Ps.16:11)  In the mountains or the laundry room.  At the beach or the carpool line.  At home or in school.   No matter where we are or what we may face, You will show us the paths of life in every situation.  You will fill us with joy in Your presence, and so we trust and say, "Lead us on, Lord!"  To God be the glory.