Silent Saturday...

        Already it is Saturday.  Silent Saturday.  The day after Good Friday. 
        My heart wants to jump ahead to Sunday.  Skip the silence and sadness of this day.  Jump over the gloom and right into the celebration of Easter.  After all, we know the end of the story, so let's dispense with this hard waiting and zip straight into joy, renewal, rebirth. 
        Yet isn't that just like me?  Maybe just like many of us, I'm guessing, to want to bypass the difficult and sorrowful, to gloss over the challenging or confusing and get right to the good stuff?  And resurrection is mighty glorious good stuff--it's the best stuff, the greatest news, the most wondrous life-changing event ever in the history of the universe... 
        But first, we have to wait.  Before the resurrection, there is the horrific, terrible death.  Before the crown, there is the cross.  Before the joy, there is the sorrow.  Before the fulfillment, there is the waiting.  Before the beautiful healing, there is the painful illness or injury.  Before the joy of hope realized, there is the sadness of hope deferred...or even discouragement or despair. 
         And so we wait...on this sad, silent Saturday.  Don't let your heart and mind run ahead.  Rest in this stillness.  Remember the disciples and Jesus' followers on that Silent Saturday as they despaired of all their hopes and dreams.  As they surely questioned how this could possibly have happened.  Why would God allow it?  Maybe they even asked themselves how they could have been so misled; how they could have been so wrong.  Why they had sacrificed so much...for this.  For this--an outcome that was not just the worst possible outcome, but was far beyond the most awful thing they could have ever imagined. 
        Maybe that's where you, or someone you love, are right now.  You--or they-are in the midst of hard, prolonged waiting.  The suffering seems to have no end.  The diagnosis holds no hope.  The future looks bleak.  The present feels empty and hollow.  Perhaps, even the worst possible outcome has occurred.  And you are left waiting...weeping...despairing...doubting.  Much like those disciples on that Silent Saturday. 
        But you are not alone.  God knows. God sees.  And whether you can feel Him or not, He's there, working and moving in the silence, in the stillness. in the suffering, in the sorrow.  Know that the God who threw the stars into the black heavens with a mere word, is with you in your suffering...for He, too, suffered.  He, too, knew what it was to be exhausted, ignored, rejected, betrayed.  He, too, experienced pain, difficulty, frustration, sorrow.   He, too, knew hard waiting. 
        Jesus lay dead and buried on that Silent Saturday.  And He waits with you in yours and holds you close.
        But deep in your heart, even in the silence and sadness, hold tightly to that tiny seed of hope...because I don't care how it looks or feels on Silent Saturday, Sunday is coming.  All the hordes and minions of satan, all of the enemies of Jesus could not hold Him in the grave.   Roll that huge stone into place.  Seal that grave.  Post that fierce Roman guard.  Doesn't matter one iota.  Jesus would easily burst the bonds of death into newness of resurrection life no matter what His puny little enemies tried to do. 
       It may be Silent Saturday...but Sunday's coming.  "When the perishable puts on the imperishable, and the mortal puts on immortality, then shall come to pass the saying that is written: 'Death is swallowed up in victory.' 'O death, where is your victory?  O death, where is your sting?'  The sting of death is sin, and the power of sin is the law.  But thanks be to God, who gives us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."  (I Cor.15:54-57) 
         So, yes, let's rest in the silence and sadness today and know that our God is with us in it.  But all the while cling to the joyous hope, the beautiful promise of the resurrection.  Just as it came on the day after Silent Saturday, so it will come one day in our lives as well.  We, too, we be able to proclaim that all our suffering, hurting, and waiting have all been swallowed up in victory.  And that victory will be all the more glorious because of any kind of death--smaller deaths or ultimate death--that we had to endure. 
          Rest in this day, don't rush through the pain...but know, deep in your heart, that Sunday's coming and then it will be time for rejoicing. 
         As has often been said, "God works best in a graveyard."  Oh might we trust Him to work in ours.  Help us, Father.  We believe...but help our unbelief. 
          To God be the glory.       

"Father, forgive them"

       The first of the last seven statements of Jesus on the cross: "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do." (Luke 23:34)
       The cross is the ultimate demonstration of forgiveness.  The perfect Son of God would take on our sins, die in our place, secure our forgiveness, and in exchange give us His righteousness.  That is forgiveness.  How about us?
        I recently read these words from Beth Moore: "Though your heart may ache from what you lost, let winter go, and though the branch is still tender to the touch, let blooms come."  And I couldn't help but think--when we forgive, it's as if we say goodbye to winter and hello to spring.  It's a release of what's past and an embracing of what's ahead...and in the process, we are the ones who are freed.  Let me briefly explain--

        Thinking back to the beautiful but cooooold snow from a little over a month ago.  And recalling Bingley's determination to carry this stick most of the length of the greenway, despite the fact that he kept running into the bridge and smacking into trees.  That silly stick prevented him from enjoying one of the rare occasions when he could be off his leash, and thus could have been happily racing and leaping through the snowy woods--one of his favorite activities.
        But that big old stick hindered him at every turn.  No matter how I hollered at him to "DROP IT!" he would not.  Bingley was absolutely determined to keep on hauling that stick...and all the while missing out of the fun he could have been having.
        And here's what I'm thinking: how often does our refusal to forgive others and our insistence on clinging to our bitterness hinder and hurt us in innumerable and sometimes devastating ways?  As has often been said, "Bitterness is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die."
        A bitter and unforgiving spirit damages our health, destroys our hope, diminishes our joy, and dims our testimony.  No wonder God, in His infinite love for us, commands us over and over again in His Word to "DROP IT!" 
        Just a couple of examples: "Then Peter came up and said to him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy times seven." (Matt.18:21-22)  "Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you." (Eph.4:32)  "Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive." (Col.3:12-13)
         Yet are we refusing to obey?  Are we insisting on hauling that stick of bitterness and unforgiveness everywhere we go and thus damaging ourselves and others?  If that is the case for you, think of all the joy, all the freedom, all the burden-lifting relief you are forfeiting by hanging on to that big ugly stick?
         Let's stop clinging on to the tired old relic of winter and instead embrace the wonder of approaching spring by choosing to forgive.  And if necessary, making that choice a hundred times a day.  Let the sunshine in, by trusting the Son and asking Him to enable you to forgive by Him, through Him, and for Him.
           And when you're having trouble forgiving, simply turn your gaze to the cross.  And remember.  If the Perfect Savior could forgive us of so infinitely much, surely we can forgive others of the comparatively minuscule.
          Forget winter--choose to forgive--and let the springtime blooms of joy and hope fill your life.  Drop the stick--get rid of bitterness--and discover that you are the one who is freed.
         To God be the glory.   
         
       

Springtime snow--grumbling or gratitude?

         Late March...and the cold wind whipped and the snow fell.  And here was my first impulse--grumbling and complaining.  "I'm so tired of winter.  I'm so sick of runny noses...and heavy coats...and cold, numb fingers (even with hand-warmers and gloves)...and coughing...and windshields coated with frost...and frigid feet that refuse to warm up...and snow.  Yes, I'm sick and tired of snow..."
         And then it hit me.  Sick and tired of snow?  Seriously?  Consider the beauty, the delicacy, the wonder of rain that has been transformed into lacy, white flakes floating down from the heavens.  As I looked around--really looked around with eyes of gratitude rather than eyes of grumpiness--I saw the stunning contrast of fluffy white flakes floating all around the lovely pink blossoms on my neighbor's tree.  Now that's not something you see everyday--snow and springtime flowers!

         Or how about the crimson cardinal enjoying his breakfast amidst the cold and snow?  Somehow he didn't seem one bit exercised by the unexpected temperature swings of late March.

        I nearly missed the glorious beauty of God's painting the landscape in a brief wash of white... nearly missed the wonder of blossoms coated in snow....nearly missed the way being outside in the cold invigorates and energizes...nearly missed the happiness of a hot shower after a chilly walk...nearly missed the peacefulness of watching the flakes fall while holding a hot mug of tea...nearly missed it all.  Why?  Because I was too busy complaining in my heart and wanting things my own way, my own preferences, my own comfort, my own expectations. 
        Forgive me, Father, for how often my myopic vision focuses on the negative rather than the positive.  Fixates on what's missing, rather than all that's there.  Forces my vision of what's best, rather than resting in Your perfect ways and plans.
        Because let's face it--God is God.  His ways and thoughts and power are infinitely beyond anything we--little dust people--could ever begin to conceive in our puny little minds.
        "'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord.  As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Isaiah 55:8-9)
        How thankful I am that God's ways and thoughts are so much higher and greater than mine.  If I could comprehend the Lord and all He is doing, how big could He be?  But I cannot...not even a smidgeon.  And in that, I find incredible comfort and peace.  I don't need to understand everything.  I don't need to insist on my own way.
       And I most certainly don't need to grumble and fret when my sovereign Lord decides to extend winter a bit longer.  Or determines that the answer to certain prayers are "Not" or "Not yet."  Or works and moves in ways I don't expect or even want. 
         It's enough for me to know that He knows.  That He's in control.  That He makes no mistakes.  That His ways will always ultimately be for our greater good and His greater glory.  That He is our Father.  Our Abba.  Our Daddy.  And that His love for us is infinite, perfect, even scandalously extravagant...and we know that because of the cross.
         If you ever doubt the love of God, if you ever question His loving plans for your life, if you ever wonder if He really has your best interests at heart, gaze at the cross.  Ponder the cross.  Look at the beautiful, glorious Son willingly, joyfully hanging on that cross for your sins, dying in your place, and giving you in exchange His perfect righteousness.  And know that He loves you so much, so unfathomably much, that He would quite literally go to the depths of hell that you might ascend to the glories of heaven with Him.
         Father, forgive us for our often complaining, ungrateful hearts.  Thank You that Your thoughts and ways and plans are infinitely far above ours.  Thank You that even we grumble, You shower us with Your grace.  Thank You that You are always working and moving in a million different ways that we cannot see and do not know.  Give us eyes to see, minds to trust, and hearts to thank.  And when we forget, point us to the cross...the terrible, wonderful cross.  You truly turn ashes to beauty.  We love You, Lord.
         To God be the glory.       

Life's simple gifts

        This is going to be short and sweet.  But after being MIA for several weeks, I figure I've got to start somewhere, right? 
        The past few weeks have been a bit of a blur.  Over the course of two weeks, we've experienced the joy of seeing every one of our children at different times and places.  Each visit was fairly brief, but still, thank You, Lord!  Then, in between those visits, it's been the busyness of daily life and working on Bible study lectures--which for me is always a blessing, but is also just plain hard work.  Mainly because I'm a mighty slow learner.  Sigh.
        But finally, last week a wicked respiratory virus wrecked havoc on all my nice little plans for the week.  I went to bed one night feeling fine and woke the next morning with head hammering, body aching, and spirits plummeting (though I blame that partly on the Tar Heels brutal loss to Miami). 
         I learned from the good old Target Minute Clinic that this was not, in fact, the flu but "a virus that mimics the flu."  Let me just say, "Well done on the mimicking job, virus germs.  You're fooling everybody and doing a bang-up job of making us poor victims miserable.  If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, then the flu ought to be awfully proud."
        After a loooong week, however, praise God, we're all feeling better and here's my point: good health is such a gigantic GIFT!  I'd forgotten how wonderful it is to get up in the morning and get busy...as opposed to staggering to the kitchen for an Advil and a glass of water.  I'd forgotten that it's a joy to have the energy to do the laundry, clean up the kitchen, and run errands.  For that matter, I'd forgotten how nice it was to leave the house and do anything period.  And I'd forgotten that it's actually a blessing to have an appetite for food.
         Everyday, ordinary life is a gift that we all too often take for granted.  After all, it's the simplest things in our lives that bring us the most pleasure--a hot cup of tea, an orange and pink tinged sunrise, a dog welcoming us home, a good book by a warm fire, a hug from a loved one, a deep laugh shared with friends, a walk on a sunny day, a phone call from a child, a beautiful piece of music, a yummy dinner enjoyed with family. 
         Have you thanked God for your "ordinary" (but really extraordinary) blessings today?  Have you got eyes to read these words?  Thank Him.  Have you got taste buds to savor your lunch?  Thank Him.  Have you got legs to walk all over the house gathering laundry or cleaning up?  Thank Him.  Have you got ears to hear what your spouse or child or parent said to you this morning?  Thank Him. Have you got hands to stroke the dog?  Thank Him.   Have you got fingers to grasp that pen or fork?  Thank Him. 
           Such a simple choice really: will we spend our days fixated on what we lack...or focused on all we possess? 
          Will our attitude today be one of constant complaining or of consistent thanking?  And will our words reflect our grumpiness or our gratitude? 
           As our amazing friend, Ray Siegler, often said, "Let your life be one gigantic thank you." 
           If you've been mired in discontentment or discouragement, it's time to jettison the complaint list and start the thanksgiving list.  Even if you don't feel like it, start it.  After all, we walk by faith, not by feelings.  If you're still breathing and reading these words, then you can start there--thank You Lord for that breath...and that one...Start with life's simplest--yet sweetest--gifts.  It's never too late to start counting...and start thanking. 
           So thank You Lord for health, for energy, for my barking dog, for my husband and children, for friends, for Your Word, for the lovely music playing in our house, for hot showers, and for the promise that despite the cold now, spring will eventually come again (walking by faith, not feelings, right?!)
           Lord, might our lives be one gigantic thank You. 
           To God--the Giver of all good gifts--be all the glory.