Yesterday Janie and I were talking about this marathon. She doesn't quite share our perspective on how miraculously far God has brought her--because she was unconscious and relaxing in the arms of Jesus while the rest of us were wide awake and continually battling fear with faith. As I told her repeatedly over the course of those two long weeks, "When you wake up, you're going to be rested but the rest of us are going to be EXHAUSTED!!" Whew, I wanted to ask those nurses if they could give me a whiff of some of those sedatives they were giving her!
But it was worth every sleepless night... for the Lord sat up with each of us every moment in even the darkest watches of the night: comforting, encouraging, strengthening, guiding. That ICU seemed like a holy sanctuary where God came down to touch and heal our desperate hearts. I cannot explain it, but I've never felt His presence so near and so dear. And it has fortified my faith, for I truly know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that we need never fear our God is not able or sufficient to meet our most desperate need or to fill our deepest pit. He is greater and deeper still, and He only grows more beautiful and wonderful when you go through the fires of life.
I digress... something new and different. Back to our conversation:
As we talked, Janie, while incredibly grateful for how God has delivered her, shared her periodic discouragement and impatience with the pace of recovery and being in hospital and all she is missing in school. Like I said, she doesn't have the full perspective of the deep pit from which God has saved her, so it's harder to be patient in the waiting.
"What about all the school I'm missing?" she worried. "What about college? Will I be able to get in to college with all this? What about my applications?"
Thank You Lord that we had already faced this issue of waiting and worrying and so we had the ready answer: it's not about next week or next month or next year. It's about asking God for the daily manna for today. We ask Him for today's strength. Today's wisdom. Today's provision. Today's hope and faith.
We just take today and then we trust God for tomorrow. That's how you run a marathon--one mile at a time, one step at a time, one moment at a time. You can't run the 26th mile until you've first run mile 1 and then mile 2 and then mile 3... all the way to the finish line. It can be long and hard and sometimes even tedious, but if you just take it one mile, one step at a time, you will finish the race.
After Janie and I talked, I went outside for a walk while she had a physical therapy appointment. "Lord," I prayed, "help her. Help us. Teach us how to encourage her."
And right after that, I ran past a couple of men building a wall. Actually, they were rebuilding a portion of the wall--a beautiful, old wall comprised of large, variously shaped rocks. The wall beside the section being rebuilt looked solid and established and strong--almost like it had always been there.
But the portion they were rebuilding had just a few stones in it. The men were measuring the other rocks and slowly and meticulously placing stone after stone in the place marked for the repaired portion of the wall. One stone would be carefully placed and then after a lot of measuring and preparing, the workers would place the next stone. Boy, it was slow, demanding work... in the hot sun with little applause from the world.
And that was God's picture for me for Janie's recovery... and really for any of us who are waiting and struggling with some issue--it's stone upon stone upon stone. The daily manna. The "long obedience in the same direction." The refusal to quit when the going gets tough. The stone... and then after waiting and working there came another stone.... and more waiting and working and another stone.
While He is building us, we may not be able to visualize the beautiful wall into which He is building us. We grow discouraged and impatient and frustrated. It hurts when we, like those stones, suffer the pounding and sanding and seemingly rough handling of the workers, of God's work within us.
But one day, after all the pain and waiting and wondering, we discover that He has built us into something beautiful and strong and eternal. Like that lovely, old wall, we will one day be finished by the Maker... it will take time and perseverance and some pain, but He will finish what He started in us. "And I am sure of this, that He who began a good work in you will bring it to completion on the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil.1:6)
And He will. He will with Janie, and He will with each of us. One stone at a time.
After all, He who rolls away the stones from the tomb can then build them into something beautiful that He might be glorified. Thank You for rolling away the stones... and thank You for building those stones into a magnificent sanctuary in Janie's life, Lord. You are still building in her life... help her--and us-- to be patient and trusting and praising--in the long process.
Only our mighty God could take the ugly stones of her imprisonment and build them into a palace. But You do it everyday in the lives of Your children. Do it again, Lord, in the lives of those still waiting for Your deliverance. To God, our Builder and Creator and Sustainer, be all the glory.
Friday, September 14, 2012
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Always with us
"The eternal God is your refuge, and underneath are the everlasting arms." (Deut.33:27)
Mary Cameron, a dear friend of our daughter, Mary Norris, made Janie a beautiful little sign with this wonderful verse for her hospital room. I just reread these words in my devotion this morning (while Janie happily slept! Another gift we often forget to praise You for, Lord: sleep!). Sure, I knew the words, and I love the sweet sign and the wonderful girl who made it for Janie, but it suddenly clicked for me in a new way this morning. I am a mighty slow learner.
Think about what that really means--we are constantly, continually surrounded and enveloped by the omnipotent, gracious, loving presence of the Creator and Sustainer of the universe. No matter where we or a loved one might be, no matter what we are going through, no matter our feelings--even if we feel alone, we are not. He is always undergirding us, sustaining us, with us, around us, and for us. Thank You Lord! With You, we are never without resources and strength and wisdom for whatever we are facing.
And because He is present with us everywhere and all the time, in the words of Robert Morgan, we should "reflect His presence in our demeanor." I have always loved the example of Brother Lawrence. But I just read the background of his story in a book by Robert Morgan. Brother Lawrence's actual name at birth was Nicholas Herman, born in Lorraine, France in 1605. As a teenager, he fought for the French army in the Thirty Years' War, was severely wounded, and walked with a limp the rest of his life. Herman became a Christian when he was 18 years old, and when he was in his 50's decided to join a Carmelite monastery.
As a monk, however, Brother Lawrence was assigned kitchen duty (personally, I would find this mighty challenging as well, since Martha Stewart, I'm definitely not). He found this work demeaning and even insulting, so that for a number of years he dutifully, but quite grudgingly, performed his daily monotonous kitchen duties.
But one day everything changed for Herman, for he began to realize what it meant that God was with him all the time. "He began frequently reminding himself of how constantly God's presence hovered over him. Even the most menial tasks, Nicholas realized, if undertaken for God's glory are holy, and wherever the Christian stands--even in a hot, thankless kitchen--is holy ground, for the Lord is there too." (Robert Morgan)
Brother Lawrence's countenance altered, and others began asking him what had brought about this remarkable and lasting change. Many sought him out to discover the secret of his joy, and the abbott eventually recorded his conversations with Brother Lawrence--it is those conversations that are the basis of the wonderful little book: The Practice of the Presence of God.
I read it a number of years ago, as a much younger mom, and it truly transformed the way I looked at all the myriad routine, mundane tasks in my day from changing diapers to folding laundry to trying to cook meals. Every moment of every day could be an opportunity to recall that God is right there with us and that we can glorify Him in any and everything we do--whether peeling a potato or driving a carpool or assisting with homework ... or reading to an unconscious child or helping your child to the bathroom in the middle of the night in a dark rehab room. A home, a hospital room, or a work cubicle can all be sanctuaries and opportunities to love and glorify God with whatever He has given you to do. All can be places where we walk with Him and praise Him for being ever and always with us and for us... and those we love.
Sometimes we just need the reminder. "The Lord is near. Do not be anxious for anything." (Phil.4:5-6) "Fear not, for I am with you." (Is.41:10) "I will never leave you or forsake you." (Heb.13:5) Nothing, no one, no sickness, no accident, no addiction, no fear, no failure, no power... nothing nothing nothing can separate us from the love and presence and power of our Lord. (Rom.8:35-39)
"If God be for us, who can be against us?!"
So today, might we rejoice in our God who will never fail us, never forget us, never leave us... and never stop loving us, helping us, redeeming us, and restoring us.
He is the God who moves away the immovable stones. To God, and God alone, be the glory.
Mary Cameron, a dear friend of our daughter, Mary Norris, made Janie a beautiful little sign with this wonderful verse for her hospital room. I just reread these words in my devotion this morning (while Janie happily slept! Another gift we often forget to praise You for, Lord: sleep!). Sure, I knew the words, and I love the sweet sign and the wonderful girl who made it for Janie, but it suddenly clicked for me in a new way this morning. I am a mighty slow learner.
Think about what that really means--we are constantly, continually surrounded and enveloped by the omnipotent, gracious, loving presence of the Creator and Sustainer of the universe. No matter where we or a loved one might be, no matter what we are going through, no matter our feelings--even if we feel alone, we are not. He is always undergirding us, sustaining us, with us, around us, and for us. Thank You Lord! With You, we are never without resources and strength and wisdom for whatever we are facing.
And because He is present with us everywhere and all the time, in the words of Robert Morgan, we should "reflect His presence in our demeanor." I have always loved the example of Brother Lawrence. But I just read the background of his story in a book by Robert Morgan. Brother Lawrence's actual name at birth was Nicholas Herman, born in Lorraine, France in 1605. As a teenager, he fought for the French army in the Thirty Years' War, was severely wounded, and walked with a limp the rest of his life. Herman became a Christian when he was 18 years old, and when he was in his 50's decided to join a Carmelite monastery.
As a monk, however, Brother Lawrence was assigned kitchen duty (personally, I would find this mighty challenging as well, since Martha Stewart, I'm definitely not). He found this work demeaning and even insulting, so that for a number of years he dutifully, but quite grudgingly, performed his daily monotonous kitchen duties.
But one day everything changed for Herman, for he began to realize what it meant that God was with him all the time. "He began frequently reminding himself of how constantly God's presence hovered over him. Even the most menial tasks, Nicholas realized, if undertaken for God's glory are holy, and wherever the Christian stands--even in a hot, thankless kitchen--is holy ground, for the Lord is there too." (Robert Morgan)
Brother Lawrence's countenance altered, and others began asking him what had brought about this remarkable and lasting change. Many sought him out to discover the secret of his joy, and the abbott eventually recorded his conversations with Brother Lawrence--it is those conversations that are the basis of the wonderful little book: The Practice of the Presence of God.
I read it a number of years ago, as a much younger mom, and it truly transformed the way I looked at all the myriad routine, mundane tasks in my day from changing diapers to folding laundry to trying to cook meals. Every moment of every day could be an opportunity to recall that God is right there with us and that we can glorify Him in any and everything we do--whether peeling a potato or driving a carpool or assisting with homework ... or reading to an unconscious child or helping your child to the bathroom in the middle of the night in a dark rehab room. A home, a hospital room, or a work cubicle can all be sanctuaries and opportunities to love and glorify God with whatever He has given you to do. All can be places where we walk with Him and praise Him for being ever and always with us and for us... and those we love.
Sometimes we just need the reminder. "The Lord is near. Do not be anxious for anything." (Phil.4:5-6) "Fear not, for I am with you." (Is.41:10) "I will never leave you or forsake you." (Heb.13:5) Nothing, no one, no sickness, no accident, no addiction, no fear, no failure, no power... nothing nothing nothing can separate us from the love and presence and power of our Lord. (Rom.8:35-39)
"If God be for us, who can be against us?!"
So today, might we rejoice in our God who will never fail us, never forget us, never leave us... and never stop loving us, helping us, redeeming us, and restoring us.
He is the God who moves away the immovable stones. To God, and God alone, be the glory.
Wednesday, September 12, 2012
Boundary Lines
What a beautiful morning! I head back to Chapel Hill in a little bit, but I can't help but rejoice in being home for the evening with the boys and wake up to take Moses for his morning walk--which is now, due to his advanced age and arthritis, a 10 minute crawl. When you're moving that slowly, however, you can see and appreciate a lot more around you. Like the high cry of the hawk or the symphony of the crickets serenading us on our meandering way or the bright sliver of moon and planet shining out in the darkened sky. Just takes your breathe away--all this all around us. How could we take so much for granted? How could we not notice and praise the Creator? Slowing down to see and hear--a good life lesson for this impatient, always rushing, always hurrying, yet always late, mama.
Well, once again, this blog has been interrupted by a busy day. It is now late at night, and I am in the hospital room with Janie. While I love being with her, I'm dreaming of crickets and cool early morning breezes and slivers of moon. Sigh. Help me to be content, Lord, right where I am, because right at the moment I want to be home. But I know Janie wants to be home even more, so we will remember that this small room in rehab is still an oasis of hope.
God has given us so much hope even in the darkest days, and we need to remember the pit we were in so that we can rejoice in the spacious place where He has put us. "Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; You have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. I will praise the Lord who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me." (Ps.16:5-7)
It's so easy to grow discontent with our boundary lines. To look across the way at others and feel those rumblings of dissatisfaction and ingratitude. Forgive us Father--You who have given us so much. Help us to praise You, Lord, in whatever place You have sovereignly marked our boundary lines. Help us not look to others and their boundaries. Might we trust Your limitations upon us as well as rejoice in Your bountiful inheritance. Help us trust You and Your plans for us each day, each night, each moment. You make our lot secure, and in You, we have peace... for You are our Peace and joy.
And so Janie and I will lay down our heads and sleep... at least we'll try until someone comes in about 3 a.m. to check something or other! But Lord, we rest in the knowledge that You are in control and You are here with us... and we can go to bed since You will be the One staying up and watching over us. To God, our forever Hope and Inheritance, be all the glory.
Well, once again, this blog has been interrupted by a busy day. It is now late at night, and I am in the hospital room with Janie. While I love being with her, I'm dreaming of crickets and cool early morning breezes and slivers of moon. Sigh. Help me to be content, Lord, right where I am, because right at the moment I want to be home. But I know Janie wants to be home even more, so we will remember that this small room in rehab is still an oasis of hope.
God has given us so much hope even in the darkest days, and we need to remember the pit we were in so that we can rejoice in the spacious place where He has put us. "Lord, you have assigned me my portion and my cup; You have made my lot secure. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; surely I have a delightful inheritance. I will praise the Lord who counsels me; even at night my heart instructs me." (Ps.16:5-7)
It's so easy to grow discontent with our boundary lines. To look across the way at others and feel those rumblings of dissatisfaction and ingratitude. Forgive us Father--You who have given us so much. Help us to praise You, Lord, in whatever place You have sovereignly marked our boundary lines. Help us not look to others and their boundaries. Might we trust Your limitations upon us as well as rejoice in Your bountiful inheritance. Help us trust You and Your plans for us each day, each night, each moment. You make our lot secure, and in You, we have peace... for You are our Peace and joy.
And so Janie and I will lay down our heads and sleep... at least we'll try until someone comes in about 3 a.m. to check something or other! But Lord, we rest in the knowledge that You are in control and You are here with us... and we can go to bed since You will be the One staying up and watching over us. To God, our forever Hope and Inheritance, be all the glory.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
A long, long blog!
Thank You Lord for another good day and night with Janie! She is still sleeping this morning, and I smile to myself that I'm rejoicing in what simple things now bring me such joy and satisfaction. A whole night with no crises, no rising fevers or struggling lungs, no falling out of the bed (that was terrifying--happened the other night--but again, God's amazing faithfulness and protection of Janie), no sound of ventilators or strident beeping when her heart rate suddenly shot up or the medicine was empty... nope, just quiet rest for the most part.
And what a fun day for Janie yesterday--visiting with a group of her high school girlfriends and wonderful Young Life leader and then a late night visit with Tessa and her dad. Boy, there's just nothing like the gift of fellowship. Again, we all tend to forget that in our busy lives--we need to all slow down a moment to truly visit and share and laugh and encourage those God has placed in our lives. Help me to remember this, Lord, when our lives begin to reboot.
a little later...
Janie just got up, and we had a quick but great time reading Daily Light and Jesus Calling. God, You just keep amazing us and feeding us and encouraging us--thank You Father! Always just the right Word for what we need today.
Daily manna for our daily needs. Just this morning we read: "Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in the due season we shall reap if we do not give up." (Gal.6:9) The Lord knew she needed this good word on this particular morning. Janie was feeling discouraged at how far she has to go while wanting so desperately to get back home and back to school, back to "my life." What a gift this morsel of His manna to remind her not to quit, not to grow weary while running this race He has marked out just for her (and for us--we need the reminder just as badly as she does, perhaps more), and trust Him for the harvest at the finish line.
Janie cries tears of gratitude when I read her just a few of the verses dear friends have been praying for her. A verse her sister, Mary Norris, and I have been praying for her since this marathon began: "For truly I say to Janie, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, Janie will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for Janie." (Mt.17:20) Lord, You have been moving so many mountains, and we give You all the glory. But right now, we ask You would strengthen Janie and encourage her heart for the battle ahead. She is discouraged right now and wants to get home so badly--would you remind her of that mustard seed of faith within her and the HUGE, Almighty, omnipotent Lord in which that seed of faith rests?
a lot later...
Well, now home with the boys, late at night, eyes are heavy and the day seems to have fled. This is one marathon of a blog... like the energizer bunny it just keeps going and going and going. My energy, on the other hand, does not.
But before hitting the sack, the Lord brings to mind all the children we saw on Janie's wing of the hospital. After she left Intensive Care the other day, she was placed in the Children's Hospital. During the night, I would sometimes hear a loud announcement for a team of doctor's to go to such and such a room or for a trauma team to go to a certain location. And it all came back to me... that first phone call, that desperate fear, that helplessness, that watching your child hooked to breathing tubes and feeding tubes and monitors, and feeling powerless to do anything, save pray and pray and pray.
Father, I whispered, be with all these struggling folks. Be with these children, be with their families--comfort and calm them, reassure them that You are with them in the ICU and the waiting rooms and the oncology wards. Forgive me for so quickly focusing only on my child that I miss the suffering world all around me. Forgive my selfishness, and give me a heart that hurts and loves and reaches out like Yours.
There is nothing like pain to make your heart pliable and compassionate, and this is a lesson I want to never forget. I don't want to be the same person I was before Janie's accident; O how I pray that all of us know and love the the Savior more dearly as He has walked with us through this fiery trial. C.S. Lewis famously wrote: "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." Lord, help us to hear, help the world to hear and see. Wake them up, Lord! Wake us up, just as You did with Janie!
"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work; you don't give up." Anne Lamott
Thank You, Lord, for giving us hope in the dark. Would You do it again in the lives of those who need to see Your Light right now? And help us all to keep working, keep showing up, keep refusing to give up even when the way ahead seems long and uncertain. For we trust that "in due season we will reap if we do not give up."
To God, our Hope, be all the glory.
And what a fun day for Janie yesterday--visiting with a group of her high school girlfriends and wonderful Young Life leader and then a late night visit with Tessa and her dad. Boy, there's just nothing like the gift of fellowship. Again, we all tend to forget that in our busy lives--we need to all slow down a moment to truly visit and share and laugh and encourage those God has placed in our lives. Help me to remember this, Lord, when our lives begin to reboot.
a little later...
Janie just got up, and we had a quick but great time reading Daily Light and Jesus Calling. God, You just keep amazing us and feeding us and encouraging us--thank You Father! Always just the right Word for what we need today.
Daily manna for our daily needs. Just this morning we read: "Let us not grow weary while doing good, for in the due season we shall reap if we do not give up." (Gal.6:9) The Lord knew she needed this good word on this particular morning. Janie was feeling discouraged at how far she has to go while wanting so desperately to get back home and back to school, back to "my life." What a gift this morsel of His manna to remind her not to quit, not to grow weary while running this race He has marked out just for her (and for us--we need the reminder just as badly as she does, perhaps more), and trust Him for the harvest at the finish line.
Janie cries tears of gratitude when I read her just a few of the verses dear friends have been praying for her. A verse her sister, Mary Norris, and I have been praying for her since this marathon began: "For truly I say to Janie, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, Janie will say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for Janie." (Mt.17:20) Lord, You have been moving so many mountains, and we give You all the glory. But right now, we ask You would strengthen Janie and encourage her heart for the battle ahead. She is discouraged right now and wants to get home so badly--would you remind her of that mustard seed of faith within her and the HUGE, Almighty, omnipotent Lord in which that seed of faith rests?
a lot later...
Well, now home with the boys, late at night, eyes are heavy and the day seems to have fled. This is one marathon of a blog... like the energizer bunny it just keeps going and going and going. My energy, on the other hand, does not.
But before hitting the sack, the Lord brings to mind all the children we saw on Janie's wing of the hospital. After she left Intensive Care the other day, she was placed in the Children's Hospital. During the night, I would sometimes hear a loud announcement for a team of doctor's to go to such and such a room or for a trauma team to go to a certain location. And it all came back to me... that first phone call, that desperate fear, that helplessness, that watching your child hooked to breathing tubes and feeding tubes and monitors, and feeling powerless to do anything, save pray and pray and pray.
Father, I whispered, be with all these struggling folks. Be with these children, be with their families--comfort and calm them, reassure them that You are with them in the ICU and the waiting rooms and the oncology wards. Forgive me for so quickly focusing only on my child that I miss the suffering world all around me. Forgive my selfishness, and give me a heart that hurts and loves and reaches out like Yours.
There is nothing like pain to make your heart pliable and compassionate, and this is a lesson I want to never forget. I don't want to be the same person I was before Janie's accident; O how I pray that all of us know and love the the Savior more dearly as He has walked with us through this fiery trial. C.S. Lewis famously wrote: "God whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks to us in our conscience, but shouts in our pains; it is His megaphone to rouse a deaf world." Lord, help us to hear, help the world to hear and see. Wake them up, Lord! Wake us up, just as You did with Janie!
"Hope begins in the dark, the stubborn hope that if you just show up and try to do the right thing, the dawn will come. You wait and watch and work; you don't give up." Anne Lamott
Thank You, Lord, for giving us hope in the dark. Would You do it again in the lives of those who need to see Your Light right now? And help us all to keep working, keep showing up, keep refusing to give up even when the way ahead seems long and uncertain. For we trust that "in due season we will reap if we do not give up."
To God, our Hope, be all the glory.
Monday, September 10, 2012
A hot breakfast!
Home for the night last night, and, whew, just have to say thank You, Lord! So trite but so true: there is no place like home. We tend to forget this in the daily grind--but remove this safe and loving harbor from your life for a while, and you'll remember to be thankful.
Each time I return home for the night, however, I'm always clearly reminded of my complete inadequacy apart from Christ. Seriously, we would have ground to an absolute halt--or maybe actually suffered a catastrophic train wreck--had it not been for the legions of friends who have cooked, cleaned, done laundry, decluttered (now there's a project for you in this house), helped with homework, carpooled, encouraged with flowers and food and books...
O for pete's sake, I could be writing all day recalling the innumerable ways folks have loved and helped us. How can we ever sufficiently thank them? We can't. Maybe we just need to live a life of continual, daily thanksgiving to those around us and to the Giver of all good gifts. How many times do we hear it and say it and read it--but in the messiness and busyness of life, we tend to forget to be thankful! Eph 5:20 " Giving thanks ALWAYS and for EVERYTHING to God, the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." I don't see any loopholes or exceptions in there. Thanksgiving is the path to joy and peace, no question about it.
But this morning, getting just two of our children off to school felt like, well, DEFCON 1. Rushing through devotions with my older son, trying to get Moses out for his morning constitutional, and then brushing our younger son's hair while he ate a yogurt and finished his math homework we had forgotten about--and all done while he sat in nothing but his shorts since I was frantically looking for a clean shirt and socks. Sigh. I wonder if God gets tickled? I'm betting so--I think He loves to remind me that it's all Him--all by His grace. I would be the poster child for the worst mother in the history of time if it weren't for my Father helping and teaching and equipping and enabling me.
Forgive me for sometimes forgetting, Lord, and for rushing off into my day without having breakfast with You first. I just reread John 21. Here are the disciples: they've been fishing and fishing, working and toiling and throwing out nets and pulling them back in... all night long. And nothing--they've caught not one single fish. As I heard not long ago---"just a whole lot of nothing."
Doesn't that describe so many of us? Seeking solace and satisfaction in things and places that never ever ultimately bring us joy and peace. Busyness, wealth, status, achievement, addictions, whatever... after a long night of a whole lot of nothing, we grow emptier and weaker and more discouraged.
And here's what Jesus says to us: "Hey, why don't you come and have breakfast with Me this morning?"
After the disciples came onto the shore following their long night of fishing (and catching nothing until they obeyed His suggestion to throw the net out on the right side of the boat), "they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread... Jesus said to them, 'Come and have breakfast.'" (John 21:9,12) Man, how good must that hot breakfast have tasted to those weary, cold disciples? What a gift to sit with the risen Savior and eat a steaming hot, fresh breakfast and laugh and talk and enjoy His presence!
He has that for each of us today. The hot fish and fresh bread of His Word, ready to strengthen us for the day ahead and remind us of His incredible love for us. He fills our souls with a hot breakfast of Himself so we handle anything we might face. O might we refuse to rush out into the world and all we have to do and face in our busy lives without stopping to enjoy the feast our Savior has prepared for us from His Word.
So today, it's still DEFCON 1: I have a lot to do before I head back to the hospital in Chapel Hill--and I'm certain I won't get even a tenth of it done. But that's okay, because I've just had a hot breakfast with the Master, and I'm fortified and ready! I can't do this... but He can. And He fills me with the supernatural sustenance of His joy and peace and power and hope for this day. And tomorrow... well, breakfast will be ready and waiting, if we will each just stop and eat and enjoy!
To God, our daily Bread of Life who waits to feed us each a hot breakfast of His Word, be all the glory.
Each time I return home for the night, however, I'm always clearly reminded of my complete inadequacy apart from Christ. Seriously, we would have ground to an absolute halt--or maybe actually suffered a catastrophic train wreck--had it not been for the legions of friends who have cooked, cleaned, done laundry, decluttered (now there's a project for you in this house), helped with homework, carpooled, encouraged with flowers and food and books...
O for pete's sake, I could be writing all day recalling the innumerable ways folks have loved and helped us. How can we ever sufficiently thank them? We can't. Maybe we just need to live a life of continual, daily thanksgiving to those around us and to the Giver of all good gifts. How many times do we hear it and say it and read it--but in the messiness and busyness of life, we tend to forget to be thankful! Eph 5:20 " Giving thanks ALWAYS and for EVERYTHING to God, the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ." I don't see any loopholes or exceptions in there. Thanksgiving is the path to joy and peace, no question about it.
But this morning, getting just two of our children off to school felt like, well, DEFCON 1. Rushing through devotions with my older son, trying to get Moses out for his morning constitutional, and then brushing our younger son's hair while he ate a yogurt and finished his math homework we had forgotten about--and all done while he sat in nothing but his shorts since I was frantically looking for a clean shirt and socks. Sigh. I wonder if God gets tickled? I'm betting so--I think He loves to remind me that it's all Him--all by His grace. I would be the poster child for the worst mother in the history of time if it weren't for my Father helping and teaching and equipping and enabling me.
Forgive me for sometimes forgetting, Lord, and for rushing off into my day without having breakfast with You first. I just reread John 21. Here are the disciples: they've been fishing and fishing, working and toiling and throwing out nets and pulling them back in... all night long. And nothing--they've caught not one single fish. As I heard not long ago---"just a whole lot of nothing."
Doesn't that describe so many of us? Seeking solace and satisfaction in things and places that never ever ultimately bring us joy and peace. Busyness, wealth, status, achievement, addictions, whatever... after a long night of a whole lot of nothing, we grow emptier and weaker and more discouraged.
And here's what Jesus says to us: "Hey, why don't you come and have breakfast with Me this morning?"
After the disciples came onto the shore following their long night of fishing (and catching nothing until they obeyed His suggestion to throw the net out on the right side of the boat), "they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread... Jesus said to them, 'Come and have breakfast.'" (John 21:9,12) Man, how good must that hot breakfast have tasted to those weary, cold disciples? What a gift to sit with the risen Savior and eat a steaming hot, fresh breakfast and laugh and talk and enjoy His presence!
He has that for each of us today. The hot fish and fresh bread of His Word, ready to strengthen us for the day ahead and remind us of His incredible love for us. He fills our souls with a hot breakfast of Himself so we handle anything we might face. O might we refuse to rush out into the world and all we have to do and face in our busy lives without stopping to enjoy the feast our Savior has prepared for us from His Word.
So today, it's still DEFCON 1: I have a lot to do before I head back to the hospital in Chapel Hill--and I'm certain I won't get even a tenth of it done. But that's okay, because I've just had a hot breakfast with the Master, and I'm fortified and ready! I can't do this... but He can. And He fills me with the supernatural sustenance of His joy and peace and power and hope for this day. And tomorrow... well, breakfast will be ready and waiting, if we will each just stop and eat and enjoy!
To God, our daily Bread of Life who waits to feed us each a hot breakfast of His Word, be all the glory.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
Our Rock
"Everyone then who hears these words of Mine and does them will be like a wise man who built his house upon the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on the rock. And everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not do them will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and beat against that house, and it fell, and great was the fall of it." (Matt.7:24-27)
A little over two weeks ago, I answered the phone and listened to the words of a sweet friend telling me that our daughters had been in a very serious car wreck. Little did we know at that moment how truly serious, how deadly serious, it was. "And the rain fell, and the floods came..." At that moment, all our priorities and concerns shifted and refocused forever.
No longer important: my child's grade on a big test; the state of my child's room; the number of accolades my child accumulated; my child's performance on the golf course or cross country course. Important: my child knowing and loving the God of the universe; my child knowing that we love her/him unconditionally--no if's, and's, or but's, even if they mess up in big or little ways; my child's character being rooted in Christ and Christ's love; my child's eternal salvation.
No longer important: bank accounts; weedy yards; extra pounds; fashionable clothes; other people's approval or high opinions; exciting trips to distant locales; being "right" or winning an argument; free time all to myself; a lovely, clutter-free home; keeping up with the latest gadgets and technology; keeping up, period. Important: loving extravagantly the Savior who died for me; loving the people He has placed in my life; caring for others; praying for others; giving myself away in loving service to the God who gave His all for me... and to His beloved children; living each day--each gift of today--joyfully in His amazing grace... and trusting Him for all our tomorrows.
Just this morning, I was talking with our blond-headed Lazarus. Janie suddenly grows tearful, "I'm gonna miss all of cross-country season." When I remind her that it's at least possible she may get out there to see a meet by the end of the season, she sadly says, "Yeah, maybe, but I'll never run in another meet for Broughton."
And she is right. With all her injuries to brain and lung and ankle, she won't be doing any running anytime soon... maybe ever. But that is up to her sovereign Savior who loves her infinitely more that we do. And whose love means that sometimes He allows the rains to fall and the floods to come, just to show us and a watching world that any house built upon His Rock will never fall and never fail. To remind us that His love and grace and joy and peace are more than enough, are always a giant trade-up in this short, ephemeral life. To school us in the profound and wonderful difference between life and the abundant life. And to teach us that we are not home yet, for the best is yet to come.
She is running an entirely different kind of race now. A race that matters for eternity and that, by the grace of God, is leading others to witness the eternal beauty of a house standing strong in the gales and floods of life.
We are running that race, too, and our lives will, thankfully, gloriously, never be the same. We have learned the true meaning of faith in the unseen, hope in the midst of despair, and trust in the eternal rather than the temporary. We run, building our houses of hope upon Him who never fails, even in the fiercest of storms.
All that other stuff--that "no longer important stuff"--it's not that it doesn't matter at all. Some of it does. And God cares about all that too, for He cares about the big and the small, the monumental and the mundane in His children's lives. But in life's hurricanes, all that stuff becomes like dandelion fluff blown away by the wind and the rain. Our accolades and accomplishments and accumulations and acceptances will never ever sustain or strengthen us or give us lasting joy and peace in the midst of the floods.
Only the Rock can do that. Only our Rock and our Fortress can give the abundant Life in the midst of sun and storm. "The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my Rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold." (Ps.18:2)
He is the Rock who will never fail. He is our Hope. And just in case we need a little reminding, here's a living, breathing picture of His never-failing faithfulness. Of His Hope:
Thumbs up toward heaven, toward Hope, toward the Rock.
To God, our Rock of strength and joy and hope in every storm, be all the glory.
A little over two weeks ago, I answered the phone and listened to the words of a sweet friend telling me that our daughters had been in a very serious car wreck. Little did we know at that moment how truly serious, how deadly serious, it was. "And the rain fell, and the floods came..." At that moment, all our priorities and concerns shifted and refocused forever.
No longer important: my child's grade on a big test; the state of my child's room; the number of accolades my child accumulated; my child's performance on the golf course or cross country course. Important: my child knowing and loving the God of the universe; my child knowing that we love her/him unconditionally--no if's, and's, or but's, even if they mess up in big or little ways; my child's character being rooted in Christ and Christ's love; my child's eternal salvation.
No longer important: bank accounts; weedy yards; extra pounds; fashionable clothes; other people's approval or high opinions; exciting trips to distant locales; being "right" or winning an argument; free time all to myself; a lovely, clutter-free home; keeping up with the latest gadgets and technology; keeping up, period. Important: loving extravagantly the Savior who died for me; loving the people He has placed in my life; caring for others; praying for others; giving myself away in loving service to the God who gave His all for me... and to His beloved children; living each day--each gift of today--joyfully in His amazing grace... and trusting Him for all our tomorrows.
Just this morning, I was talking with our blond-headed Lazarus. Janie suddenly grows tearful, "I'm gonna miss all of cross-country season." When I remind her that it's at least possible she may get out there to see a meet by the end of the season, she sadly says, "Yeah, maybe, but I'll never run in another meet for Broughton."
And she is right. With all her injuries to brain and lung and ankle, she won't be doing any running anytime soon... maybe ever. But that is up to her sovereign Savior who loves her infinitely more that we do. And whose love means that sometimes He allows the rains to fall and the floods to come, just to show us and a watching world that any house built upon His Rock will never fall and never fail. To remind us that His love and grace and joy and peace are more than enough, are always a giant trade-up in this short, ephemeral life. To school us in the profound and wonderful difference between life and the abundant life. And to teach us that we are not home yet, for the best is yet to come.
She is running an entirely different kind of race now. A race that matters for eternity and that, by the grace of God, is leading others to witness the eternal beauty of a house standing strong in the gales and floods of life.
We are running that race, too, and our lives will, thankfully, gloriously, never be the same. We have learned the true meaning of faith in the unseen, hope in the midst of despair, and trust in the eternal rather than the temporary. We run, building our houses of hope upon Him who never fails, even in the fiercest of storms.
All that other stuff--that "no longer important stuff"--it's not that it doesn't matter at all. Some of it does. And God cares about all that too, for He cares about the big and the small, the monumental and the mundane in His children's lives. But in life's hurricanes, all that stuff becomes like dandelion fluff blown away by the wind and the rain. Our accolades and accomplishments and accumulations and acceptances will never ever sustain or strengthen us or give us lasting joy and peace in the midst of the floods.
Only the Rock can do that. Only our Rock and our Fortress can give the abundant Life in the midst of sun and storm. "The Lord is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my Rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold." (Ps.18:2)
He is the Rock who will never fail. He is our Hope. And just in case we need a little reminding, here's a living, breathing picture of His never-failing faithfulness. Of His Hope:
To God, our Rock of strength and joy and hope in every storm, be all the glory.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
Thankful for today
Just sitting here with Janie and feeling grateful. So grateful to our extravagant God. It is a little after 2:00 in the afternoon, and I've been reading Janie emails from her friends and teachers. I well remember about two weeks ago, when she was still unconscious, I sat by her bed and tried to read her emails and could never get through even a single sentence without breaking down and weeping. "Janie," I would sob to my sleeping daughter, "I'm not doing a very good job, am I? I'm thinking this is probably not very encouraging to you with mama crying like this." And I would just have to put the emails away for another day. A day in the unknown, far distant future. A day when I might actually read them to her and she might actually understand them.
And then that day suddenly arrived today. Only this time, I read them without tears, and sweet Janie is the one who was crying. We even joked about this remarkable turnaround--she was being like her emotional mom and shedding tears. I couldn't cry--I have cried so many tears and right now, I just feel so undeservedly grateful that the tears refuse to come. God moves in mysterious ways.
My heart breaks for all that Janie is missing right now--all the joys of her senior year and her friends and the IB program at her school that she really loves and her teachers. That is the source of her tears. She even cried when we talked about homework and how she wishes she could be doing homework right now. Father, You are the God of all comfort--would You speak gently and lovingly to her right now and give her Your peace and joy even in the midst of this hard, lonely place? I know that You will, Lord, and that You are using this all for good and for Your glory, but Father please help her know and feel this. Sometimes knowing something intellectually pushes up against our feelings, and those feelings tend to overwhelm our faltering hearts.
We have so far to go, and Janie knows that. We talked about all the things that she will never ever take for granted again. Friends, Moses our dog, sports practices, car, food and eating a meal with others, routine--O to have a glorious routine for her with school and home and sports. How much do we take for granted every single day, Lord? Forgive us. Thank You for the gift of seeing and feeling and being busy and and hearing and watching and driving. The gifts of running errands and rushing to school and sleeping in your own bed, and folding laundry, and sighing at the mess in your children's room, and watching high school sporting events, and dropping off forgotten lunches or books at school, and listening to your children complain about homework or the lack of food in the kitchen (even when you just went to the store!). These are just a few things that will never pass unnoticed and unappreciated in our house again. Simply the joys and challenges and messes and blessings of daily life with the ones you love. How could we have ever grumbled about any of them?
Don't miss the extraordinary blessings God showers upon you simply because of their dailyness and ordinariness. All of life now seems remarkable and worthy of celebrating. Forgive us, Father, for so often being heedless of Your goodness and grace to us. Did the sun rise again today?--thank Your Faithful Father. Were you able to hug your children as they rushed out the door?--praise the Giver of all good gifts. Could you say "I love you" to someone near and dear to your heart--rejoice with the One who is Love.
And so Janie and I sit in this quiet room, but a gentle fire of hope and trust burns within my heart--hope and trust in the One who has brought Janie so extraordinarily far. As I reminded her just a bit ago--don't look back except to rejoice in how far God has brought you. And don't look ahead at a long road with fear and impatience (of course I'm counseling my own heart too!). We can't worry about all she is missing nor how we will face next week's challenges. We simply trust and thank God for and in this moment, this fine moment, that He has given us. This moment to love and learn and trust an unknown future to a known God. For we know that He will not abandon us now. Or next week. Or next month.
He will not abandon you either... not ever.
Janie has said so many times "I want to go home." We believe and know God will enable that to happen in His good time. (We're praying sooner rather than later--but our "Father knows best!" Help us to wait patiently and trustingly, Lord.) And it will be so wonderful! But in the meantime, we rejoice that no matter what any of us are going through, we are, none of us, truly home yet. This fine life, this amazing world, simply is a poor, pale foreshadowing of our true Home. And that will be one glorious homecoming truly worth the wait!
So we rejoice as we continue to run this marathon, thankful for this day--and this day's strength--from our sovereign, never-failing Father. To God be the glory.
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