How wonderful to be home and take a walk today on the first day of fall! I can so clearly remember standing by a window in the ICU in Greenville and looking outside at all the cars zipping by and pedestrians scurrying down the sidewalks. It was a rainy day, and I thought, "How I wish we were running errands, rushing to get the groceries, just living our busy lives like all those folks out there."
Somehow--ridiculously, absurdly I now knew, we thought we were "stressed out" by all we had to do.
Suddenly, however, our world had constricted to the narrowest of priorities--waiting and praying for our daughter to survive and wake up. Gone were all thoughts of the phone calls to return or school projects to work on or birthday presents to purchase or closets to clean out or fund raisers to help out with and on and on. Now I longed for such normalcy. Such joyously busy regular old days where I had too much to do and too little time--but all the while I had completely missed the pricelessness, the remarkable wonder of living such a life with and for the people that you love.
How could I not have been overcome with gratitude and joy every moment?! I didn't have to do all those routine chores, all that laundry, all those errands, all that cleaning and cooking--no, I got to do it! I had the inestimable privilege of daily serving and loving the King of Kings... as well as His beloved children in the form of the people He sovereignly placed in my life.
So today, as I basked in the sunshine and breathed deeply of the fresh air, I rejoiced at the incredible, undeserved joy and privilege of getting to live this life. Of getting to run to the grocery store. Of getting to try to get a handle on the mess and clutter (all evidence of the people that I love so dearly--so God bless the clutter!). Of getting to write notes or make phone calls to people that Jesus loved so much He died just for them--and I get to write or talk to them! Of getting to laugh at and enjoy Janie's now oh-so-beautiful eccentricities. Of getting to help/encourage/ nag/fuss about homework--but now even that is suffused with joy, since God is allowing me to love and serve my family. Of getting to pray for others in the hospital and doing it with a new intensity and love and faith, because we have been there and witnessed God's supernatural power.
Thank You for the privilege, Lord. Thank You for the chores and the busyness and the routine and the rush and even the ruts in our lives. Thank You for the messes and even the mess-ups, because You are working ALL things together for good in the lives of those who love You. (Rom.8:28) Thank You for the challenges and even the crises, for they drive us closer to You, our Rock and Refuge, and enable us to experience as never before how great and good You are.
"Thou that hast given so much to me give me one thing more, a grateful heart: not thankful when it pleaseth me, as if Thy blessings had spare days, but such a heart whose pulse may be Thy praise." (George Herbert)
O Lord, let our pulse be praise! When we worry, let that be a reminder, an alarm in our hearts to immediately begin to worship. Give us eyes to see the blessings all around us--remove the blinders of routine and busyness that blind us to the common, everyday treasures that constitute Your daily goodness and grace to us. Give us one thing more, we ask, Father: grateful hearts.
I love how Ann Voscamp put it: "God never stops whispering: Give thanks anyways--do this in remembrance of Me... God says to give thanks, to do this in remembrance of Him--because in the remembering to give thanks, it's our broken places that are re-membered--and we are the ones made whole." He takes the broken shards of our disappointments and disasters, our failures and fears, even just our busyness and exhaustion and inadequacies, and as we remember to give thanks, He shapes those broken pieces into something beautiful and eternal and glorious.
Just incredible--but, then, that's the kind of God we serve. Always restoring and resurrecting and redeeming. So thank You Lord. As we go through our days--whether overwhelmingly busy with the routine or sorrowfully constricted with some crisis--give us hearts whose pulse is Your praise. Because in You, we always have reason for thanksgiving. To God be the glory.
Saturday, September 22, 2012
Friday, September 21, 2012
Remembering...
Late this afternoon, we were chatting and laughing and suddenly realized: the wreck was exactly four weeks ago today. We looked at the clock, and it was almost 5:00 p.m.--the exact time of the accident. It's hard to even conceive how far the Lord has brought us in four weeks. From fear to faith, from despair to delight, from worry to worship, from believing even without seeing to seeing our belief in the miraculous.
I drove to pick up some sushi for us girls (honey, if you are reading this: it was buy one get one free), and again, glanced at the clock--around 7:00 p.m., the time wonderful Russ and Creecy drove me to the hospital to see our girl hooked up to a ventilator and all kinds of machines just to keep her alive. And all I can think now is how God made all things new. He transformed pain into praise. And kept pouring out grace and more grace every step of the way.
I can visualize the faces of dear Beth and Will that night at the hospital before we could get there, talking with doctors, praying, doing whatever they could. What an incredible comfort it was having them there--knowing Janie was not alone in that hospital and that she had two rocks of faith with her. And sweet Katherine and Richard. The Barkers with our boys. And the Manns and on and on. God's people holding us up in those first dark and frightening hours, even while God's arms undergirded and lifted and held us.
Four weeks ago tonight was surely the toughest night of our lives... but it was also the most loved we've ever felt--by our Savior and by our friends. And so that night of August 24, 2012 will always be a night that we learned no pit is deeper than God's love, no despair stronger than God's hope and no darkness greater than God's Light.
"Thus far the Lord has helped us." 1Sam.7:12
And He did. Our Rock and Refuge and Restorer and Redeemer. Janie's Healer and Helper. He did it that darkest of nights.
And He will not fail us or you now.
Boy, it's good to remember the abyss and be overflowing with gratitude for the spacious place into which He has brought us. A place of healing and hope. I really think that all gratitude must begin with remembering--not just remembering God's blessings but also recalling God's deliverances and forgiveness... and the way He works all things for good for those who love Him.
Why was Janie spared and another child on another night not? Why tragedy and evil? I can't answer for a sovereign, omniscient, omnipotent God. His ways are so far beyond my ways, His wisdom and justice so infinitely beyond mine, that I can only say "I trust You, Abba Father, even when I cannot understand. And I praise You and thank You even in this storm. And in the healing sunlight."
We do not deserve this miracle. But then, we do not deserve forgiveness. We do not deserve grace. We do not deserve salvation. We could never deserve the Savior. And so it is all by grace--start to finish. "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." (Eph.2:8-9)
All we can say is thank You, Father. Four weeks later, we remember, and we praise the Great Physician--the Healer not only of Janie but of our souls. There is a Balm in Gilead... and His powerful name is Jesus. To God--our Healer and Helper and Sustainer--be all the glory.
Exactly four weeks later, Tessa, Grace, Madeline, and Janie and a bunch of their friends celebrate with Chinese food, laughter and even singing. God is good. All the time. We remember and rejoice.
I drove to pick up some sushi for us girls (honey, if you are reading this: it was buy one get one free), and again, glanced at the clock--around 7:00 p.m., the time wonderful Russ and Creecy drove me to the hospital to see our girl hooked up to a ventilator and all kinds of machines just to keep her alive. And all I can think now is how God made all things new. He transformed pain into praise. And kept pouring out grace and more grace every step of the way.
I can visualize the faces of dear Beth and Will that night at the hospital before we could get there, talking with doctors, praying, doing whatever they could. What an incredible comfort it was having them there--knowing Janie was not alone in that hospital and that she had two rocks of faith with her. And sweet Katherine and Richard. The Barkers with our boys. And the Manns and on and on. God's people holding us up in those first dark and frightening hours, even while God's arms undergirded and lifted and held us.
Four weeks ago tonight was surely the toughest night of our lives... but it was also the most loved we've ever felt--by our Savior and by our friends. And so that night of August 24, 2012 will always be a night that we learned no pit is deeper than God's love, no despair stronger than God's hope and no darkness greater than God's Light.
"Thus far the Lord has helped us." 1Sam.7:12
And He did. Our Rock and Refuge and Restorer and Redeemer. Janie's Healer and Helper. He did it that darkest of nights.
And He will not fail us or you now.
Boy, it's good to remember the abyss and be overflowing with gratitude for the spacious place into which He has brought us. A place of healing and hope. I really think that all gratitude must begin with remembering--not just remembering God's blessings but also recalling God's deliverances and forgiveness... and the way He works all things for good for those who love Him.
Why was Janie spared and another child on another night not? Why tragedy and evil? I can't answer for a sovereign, omniscient, omnipotent God. His ways are so far beyond my ways, His wisdom and justice so infinitely beyond mine, that I can only say "I trust You, Abba Father, even when I cannot understand. And I praise You and thank You even in this storm. And in the healing sunlight."
We do not deserve this miracle. But then, we do not deserve forgiveness. We do not deserve grace. We do not deserve salvation. We could never deserve the Savior. And so it is all by grace--start to finish. "For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast." (Eph.2:8-9)
All we can say is thank You, Father. Four weeks later, we remember, and we praise the Great Physician--the Healer not only of Janie but of our souls. There is a Balm in Gilead... and His powerful name is Jesus. To God--our Healer and Helper and Sustainer--be all the glory.
Exactly four weeks later, Tessa, Grace, Madeline, and Janie and a bunch of their friends celebrate with Chinese food, laughter and even singing. God is good. All the time. We remember and rejoice.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
Lost in the parking lot
Now that we are back home (whew, I love the sound of that: "back home!"), Janie and I went to her first occupational therapy session today for her right hand. But the adventure wasn't the therapy. In fact, our adventure had nothing to do with her therapy or her injury... it had to do with my persistent inability to find my way around even a paper bag. Seriously, I am like one of those erratic houseflies that zoom all over the kitchen with no seeming rhyme or reason. They just buzz crazily around, no discernible meaning to their insane flying pattern. That is me when it comes to directions. I can get lost going anywhere... and I mean anywhere. Just ask any of my friends... or rather, don't ask them, since they may be on the phone talking to me telling me how to get to wherever I'm going since I got hopelessly lost. Sigh.
But this morning, it wasn't so much that I got lost going to the doctor's office that is less than 10 minutes from our house. O no, we found our way over there quite nicely, thank you. Though I must say, when you haul a 1000 pound wheelchair in the back of the car, along with crutches, and a giant purse, and a couple of books (just in case--you never know when you're going to get lucky), your attitude can take a bit of a beating. I digress. How unusual.
Anyway, after our appointment, Janie was whipped and had a splitting headache. We started back to the large multilevel parking lot... and of course, at that instant I realized I had absolutely no earthly idea what floor we had parked on. Janie thought it might be level 3, and seeing that for all I knew we parked on Mars, we headed up the elevator to 3... no car. Undaunted, I pushed the 1000 pound wheelchair up the steep ramp to the next level... no car. Well, maybe we'll go down to level 2... no car. By now, poor Janie's head is absolutely pounding, along with my pulse.
We wandered around the lovely multilevel parking lot for a while, and all I could think about was how awful this exhaust was probably for my daughter and her recovering brain. Finally after much futility and gnashing of teeth, Janie and I rode the elevator back down to the ground floor and started all over again. Sometimes you just need a fresh start in life.
Turns out we had taken a different elevator than the one we had taken when we first arrived. Who knew? They looked the same and really weren't all that far apart, but this parking lot is actually two parking lots connected to one another but yet distinct. That is confusing... and so are the parking lots. Suffice it to say, when you are a horrifically challenged directional person, this is disastrous.
But, miraculously--or at least close to it--we finally found the car. After starting fresh and going back down to the ground floor, going to the correct elevator, and then heading back up to level 3, we finally found it. Of course, even this still involved me parking Janie and the 1000 pound wheelchair by one of the super beautiful cement walls while I clicked my car clicker and listened desperately for the sound of my car honking. Don't you wonder why on earth God would entrust me with five children? He has an incredible sense of humor.
But I can tell you one thing: when we finally found that car, I felt like dancing and singing and shouting! I rushed to pick up Janie in the back corner of level 3 and got her back to home sweet home. And all I could think was--there is nothing like being found. "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind but now I see."
For you see, we felt hopeless to find our way. We wandered and looked and tried and complained but all to no avail. All my ideas, all my strategies, all my energy was no help whatsoever. And we could have wandered through that industrial parking lot all day to no avail--we never would have found our car, because our car was in the attached-but-mystifyingly-separate-next-door parking lot. We were hopelessly on the wrong track.
And that is just the moment--the desperate yet wonderful moment--where Christ finds each of us. "But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Rom 5:8) We were lost and hopeless and underserving and ungrateful, and the Savior came. He came not only to show us the way out... He was and is The Way, the Truth and the Life. He finds us and saves us and restores us and redeems us, even at our most unlovely and unpromising. What a salvation. What a Savior.
So tonight, I'm just rejoicing that He found me and saved me. I may get lost everywhere I go... but I'll never ever be lost from my Lord. He knows exactly where I am and He will lead me all the way home. To Home Sweet Glorious Eternal Home. To God--the seeking, finding Savior--be all the glory.
But this morning, it wasn't so much that I got lost going to the doctor's office that is less than 10 minutes from our house. O no, we found our way over there quite nicely, thank you. Though I must say, when you haul a 1000 pound wheelchair in the back of the car, along with crutches, and a giant purse, and a couple of books (just in case--you never know when you're going to get lucky), your attitude can take a bit of a beating. I digress. How unusual.
Anyway, after our appointment, Janie was whipped and had a splitting headache. We started back to the large multilevel parking lot... and of course, at that instant I realized I had absolutely no earthly idea what floor we had parked on. Janie thought it might be level 3, and seeing that for all I knew we parked on Mars, we headed up the elevator to 3... no car. Undaunted, I pushed the 1000 pound wheelchair up the steep ramp to the next level... no car. Well, maybe we'll go down to level 2... no car. By now, poor Janie's head is absolutely pounding, along with my pulse.
We wandered around the lovely multilevel parking lot for a while, and all I could think about was how awful this exhaust was probably for my daughter and her recovering brain. Finally after much futility and gnashing of teeth, Janie and I rode the elevator back down to the ground floor and started all over again. Sometimes you just need a fresh start in life.
Turns out we had taken a different elevator than the one we had taken when we first arrived. Who knew? They looked the same and really weren't all that far apart, but this parking lot is actually two parking lots connected to one another but yet distinct. That is confusing... and so are the parking lots. Suffice it to say, when you are a horrifically challenged directional person, this is disastrous.
But, miraculously--or at least close to it--we finally found the car. After starting fresh and going back down to the ground floor, going to the correct elevator, and then heading back up to level 3, we finally found it. Of course, even this still involved me parking Janie and the 1000 pound wheelchair by one of the super beautiful cement walls while I clicked my car clicker and listened desperately for the sound of my car honking. Don't you wonder why on earth God would entrust me with five children? He has an incredible sense of humor.
But I can tell you one thing: when we finally found that car, I felt like dancing and singing and shouting! I rushed to pick up Janie in the back corner of level 3 and got her back to home sweet home. And all I could think was--there is nothing like being found. "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me. I once was lost, but now am found. Was blind but now I see."
For you see, we felt hopeless to find our way. We wandered and looked and tried and complained but all to no avail. All my ideas, all my strategies, all my energy was no help whatsoever. And we could have wandered through that industrial parking lot all day to no avail--we never would have found our car, because our car was in the attached-but-mystifyingly-separate-next-door parking lot. We were hopelessly on the wrong track.
And that is just the moment--the desperate yet wonderful moment--where Christ finds each of us. "But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: while we were still sinners, Christ died for us." (Rom 5:8) We were lost and hopeless and underserving and ungrateful, and the Savior came. He came not only to show us the way out... He was and is The Way, the Truth and the Life. He finds us and saves us and restores us and redeems us, even at our most unlovely and unpromising. What a salvation. What a Savior.
So tonight, I'm just rejoicing that He found me and saved me. I may get lost everywhere I go... but I'll never ever be lost from my Lord. He knows exactly where I am and He will lead me all the way home. To Home Sweet Glorious Eternal Home. To God--the seeking, finding Savior--be all the glory.
Wednesday, September 19, 2012
The Stone rolling away business
God rolled away her stone. All by His power. All by His grace. All for His glory.
He is still in the stone rolling away business.
If He could do it for Janie, He can do it for you.
"... Lazarus was ill... 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... Then Jesus, deeply moved again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay against it. Jesus said, 'Take away the stone.' Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to Him, 'Lord, by this time there will be an odor, for he has been dead four days.' Jesus said to her, 'Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?' So they took away the stone. And Jesus lifted up His eyes and said, 'Father, I thank You that have heard me. I knew that You always hear me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that You sent Me.' When He had said these things, He cried out with a loud voice, 'Lazarus, come out.' The man who had died came out, his hands and feet bound with linen strips, and his face wrapped with a cloth. Jesus said to them, 'Unbind him, and let him go.'" (John 11)
What can I say? What can I add to the Savior who restores sight to the blind, allows the paralyzed to walk, heals the sick, raises the dead? But who infinitely more miraculously and wonderfully, gives new spiritual life to those dead and paralyzed by their sin. Who forgives even the most hardened, hopeless sinner who turns to Him by faith and gives that person new hope, new joy, new peace, new life. Who gives His freedom in exchange for the bondage to approval or addictions or accolades or whatever we desperately seek and crave in this world that never satisfies and always ultimately enslaves. He rolls away stones in lives every single day.
He truly is "The God of all grace." (I Pet. 5:10)
As we walked into the door of our home last night with Janie, all I could think of was "Grace... grace... grace." We don't deserve this miracle. We did nothing to earn it. We did nothing to help it. We simply watched our Savior do what only He could do--roll away the stone we were powerless to move ourselves. We just waited and prayed... along with legions of dear friends who waited and prayed and loved and cared for us all along the way.
And in His infinite grace, we, like the people watching Jesus raise Lazarus, witnessed the power and glory of God in living color.
So that we may believe. "Father, I thank You that You have heard Me. I knew that You always hear Me, but I said this on account of the people standing around, that they may believe that You sent Me."
Lord we believe. Help us on the days when our belief flags. Stir up our faith, Father. Remind us of all those stones You have rolled away in our pasts... and do it again, Lord. Might this day be our day to step forth into the freedom of fully trusting in You, the God of all grace. The God of all glory. We don't want to go back to half-hearted belief or enslavement to the sinful habits or attitudes or actions that bound us--free us like Lazarus, Lord.
I say it again:
God rolled away the stone. All by His power. All by His grace. All for His glory.
He is still in the stone rolling away business.
If He could do it for Janie, He can do it for you.
To God be all the glory forever.
Monday, September 17, 2012
God's love in rehab
Whew, it's late at night, and I'm wondering where on earth this day went. I spent much of the day in Chapel Hill with Janie, watching her rehab, asking questions, talking, laughing, trying to help. And then I rushed back here in the late afternoon to try to tackle a bit of laundry, clean up, figure out dinner, make the obligatory Target run, and provide some homework "encouragement" (always a delightful way to spend the evening). Suddenly it's nearly 11 p.m., and the day is gone. Did I really try to live each moment, Lord? Live each moment of this never-to-be-repeated day with gratitude for the profound and unearned gift of God's grace and love?
If there is one thing I have learned these past four weeks, it is that life is precious and sometimes precarious, and we must not take even it's simplest treasures for granted. The sun rose again--His mercies are new every morning, and He's given me another opportunity to share His love. Our sweet old dog, Moses, rests at my feet--He will never leave us or forsake us, and His love is reflected even in the gift of His creatures. A hot shower to start the day, a hot mug of tea to savor, a crimson cardinal flying and a hawk crying, a lunch to share with my sister and daughter--His grace is like a multi-faceted diamond for it shines into our lives in so many different ways and forms and places. All undeserved. All simply the grace of our God who loves us.
As I sit on our sofa in our comfortable home, our dog at our feet, my children in bed (and my husband with Janie at the hospital), I think of the other folks I have seen up there at rehab. The quiet old man with a white beard who has two prosthetics on his lower legs. Or the funny fellow who reminds me a bit of Hulk Hogan with his flowing blond hair--he's in a wheel chair and full of life while chatting animatedly with the therapists during rehab. Or the beautiful young African-American girl in the wheelchair that I saw today with her vibrant smile and tracheotomy. Or the older woman with long, gray hair and the staring sad eyes.
Who are they Lord? Do they have families who come to see them? Do they have hope in You, Father? Do they know of Your love? Have I shown them? Forgive me for being so focused on my own daughter that I miss the pain--and Your people, Your children--all around me. I sit here and feel such shame and sorrow that I have not loved as You have loved. I have not loved the "least of these." Help me to love, Lord. Help me to share Your love.
Thank You that You loved each of us as if we were Your precious child in rehab. As if we were the only one, and we were the apple of Your eye. Because we are. You love us each individually, unconditionally, crazily, completely. And You love each of us that way. There is not one thing we can do that would make You love us more... and there is not one thing we could do that would make You love us less. That is incredible--our love can be so conditional, but Your's is not.
"God is love" isn't a cliche. It's a statement of truth. Of fact. Of the reality that He made love; He encompasses love; and His very nature is love. His love prompts His every action; His love provided both a cradle and a cross, a Son and a Savior. And there is no place that we can run, no where we can hide, where His love will not be there too.
Might we bask in that love... and then out of gratitude, out of joy, out of the wondrous knowledge that we are so incredibly, graciously loved, share that love with others. With the least. With the lost. With the lonely. With the lowly.
For God so loved the... old man in rehab... the young woman in rehab... the Hulk Hogan in rehab... the nurses and therapists in rehab... that He gave His only beloved Son...
Help us to live in Your love, Lord, and help us to share it with the world You died to save. To God be the glory.
If there is one thing I have learned these past four weeks, it is that life is precious and sometimes precarious, and we must not take even it's simplest treasures for granted. The sun rose again--His mercies are new every morning, and He's given me another opportunity to share His love. Our sweet old dog, Moses, rests at my feet--He will never leave us or forsake us, and His love is reflected even in the gift of His creatures. A hot shower to start the day, a hot mug of tea to savor, a crimson cardinal flying and a hawk crying, a lunch to share with my sister and daughter--His grace is like a multi-faceted diamond for it shines into our lives in so many different ways and forms and places. All undeserved. All simply the grace of our God who loves us.
As I sit on our sofa in our comfortable home, our dog at our feet, my children in bed (and my husband with Janie at the hospital), I think of the other folks I have seen up there at rehab. The quiet old man with a white beard who has two prosthetics on his lower legs. Or the funny fellow who reminds me a bit of Hulk Hogan with his flowing blond hair--he's in a wheel chair and full of life while chatting animatedly with the therapists during rehab. Or the beautiful young African-American girl in the wheelchair that I saw today with her vibrant smile and tracheotomy. Or the older woman with long, gray hair and the staring sad eyes.
Who are they Lord? Do they have families who come to see them? Do they have hope in You, Father? Do they know of Your love? Have I shown them? Forgive me for being so focused on my own daughter that I miss the pain--and Your people, Your children--all around me. I sit here and feel such shame and sorrow that I have not loved as You have loved. I have not loved the "least of these." Help me to love, Lord. Help me to share Your love.
Thank You that You loved each of us as if we were Your precious child in rehab. As if we were the only one, and we were the apple of Your eye. Because we are. You love us each individually, unconditionally, crazily, completely. And You love each of us that way. There is not one thing we can do that would make You love us more... and there is not one thing we could do that would make You love us less. That is incredible--our love can be so conditional, but Your's is not.
"God is love" isn't a cliche. It's a statement of truth. Of fact. Of the reality that He made love; He encompasses love; and His very nature is love. His love prompts His every action; His love provided both a cradle and a cross, a Son and a Savior. And there is no place that we can run, no where we can hide, where His love will not be there too.
Might we bask in that love... and then out of gratitude, out of joy, out of the wondrous knowledge that we are so incredibly, graciously loved, share that love with others. With the least. With the lost. With the lonely. With the lowly.
For God so loved the... old man in rehab... the young woman in rehab... the Hulk Hogan in rehab... the nurses and therapists in rehab... that He gave His only beloved Son...
Help us to live in Your love, Lord, and help us to share it with the world You died to save. To God be the glory.
Sunday, September 16, 2012
The God of the impossible
Our older daughter just sent us this wonderful reminder of God's promises to claim--especially in the coming days and weeks of Janie's recovery when she (and we) may tend to grow impatient or weary or fearful or frustrated:
Thank You, Lord, for these reminders of Your eternal promises and for Your Word that will never fail. We will fail; but You and Your Word will not. Not ever.
I just read a verse in our Daily Light that really resonated: "When my spirit was overwhelmed within me, then You knew my path." (Ps.142:3) There is never a moment in any of our lives where God says, "Oops," or "That one just slipped by Me," or "What a shock!" Nope, He knows and is in control of all that happens to us or our loved ones.
There are no "accidents" in God's economy--just incidents that He allows and that He sovereignly uses to shape us and mold us and make us more like Him, all for our greater good and His glory. I don't know how He does this--but I've seen Him do it again and again and again in my life and in the lives of others.
And now I've seen it through all this with Janie. I won't say I enjoy this hard process; I wouldn't have chosen it. But I can say I'm incredibly thankful for all He has taught us and grown us and all the amazing ways He has used this for His glory. Even at this early stage, I can even say I thank Him for this, for He has shown us in a dramatic and profound way how utterly reliable and strong and great and glorious He is. We have seen firsthand that If we have Him, we have everything... and He is always enough. Enough to give us what we need each day. Enough to see us through tough challenges that we could never endure on our own.
I can tell you one thing: I know beyond a shadow of doubt that it has not been my husband or me or any of us who has carried us through. It has been our Savior. It has not been 75% God and 25% us. Nor has it been 50% God, but 50% us sort of helping God. It has not even been 99% God and 1% us. It has been 100% God and God alone. His power. His promises. HIs presence. His people that He sent over and over again to strengthen us and to encourage us to keep looking and listening to Him.
We have learned to listen to, learn from, and lean upon HIm. Not to the doctors (fine though they might be, and we are so grateful for every single one!). Not to our feelings. Not to our brain storming or bank account or abilities or anything in the world that we might possess. No, it's God... start to finish... who has seen us through and will keep our hope and faith founded on the Rock. "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge HIm and He will make your paths straight." (Prov. 3:5-6)
Boy, we know that verse. Many of us have memorized it. But are we living it? Trusting Him "with all our hearts?" Leaning only upon Him and not partially upon our own ideas and agendas? Whew, this is a daily battle for me--headstrong, prideful, selfish girl that I am--but He has proven so powerfully to me over the past three weeks that I cannot do it, never could... but He can.
He is always able even when we are unable. He is always powerful even in our weakness. He is always love even when we are unlovely. He is always peace even in our fiercest storms. He is always forgiveness and grace even in our worst sin and failure.
He is always Savior and Redeemer even when we reject Him and neglect Him.
It's just simply not about us. Never has been and never will be. It's all about Him. Praise God. And He can handle anything that any of us will ever face--past, present, or future. We can just rest in Him and His absolute and perfect sufficiency.
Believe me, I quickly tend to forget and start fretting and fussing and failing... but in His amazing grace, He keeps reminding and refreshing me in His Word. And then I settle down, quiet down, and trust like a little child. Thanking Him for coming through once again... and again... and again.
So we will keep running this marathon--all of us, each of us running our marathons... but really He's the One doing the running and working and carrying. We will just keep looking to Him, asking Him, seeking Him, loving Him and watching Him do the improbable and the impossible. Because that's our God. The God who rolls away stones. The God who brings the dead back to life.
The God of the impossible.
To God--the God who is all and can do all--be all the glory.
You say: 'It's impossible'
God says: All things are possible
(Luke 18:27)
You say: 'I'm too tired'
God says: I will give you rest
(Matthew 11:28-30)
You say: 'I can't go on'
God says: My grace is sufficient
(II Corinthians 12:9 & Psalm 91:15)
You say: 'I can't figure things out'
God says: I will direct your steps
(Proverbs 3:5- 6)
You say: 'I can't do it'
God says: Through ME you can do all things
( Philippians 4:13)
You say: 'I'm not able'
God says: I am able
(II Corinthians 9:8)
You say: 'It's not worth it'
God says: It will be worth it
(Roman 8:28 )
You say: 'I can't forgive myself'
God says: I Forgive you
(I John 1:9 & Romans 8:1)
You say: 'I can't manage'
God says: I will supply all your needs
( Philippians 4:19)
You say: 'I'm afraid'
God says: I have not given you a spirit of fear
(II Timothy 1:7)
You say: 'I'm always worried and frustrated'
God says: Cast all your cares on ME
(I Peter 5:7)
You say: 'I'm not smart enough'
God says: I give you wisdom
(I Corinthians 1:30)
You say: 'I feel all alone'
God says: I will never leave you nor forsake you
(Hebrews 13:5)
God says: All things are possible
(Luke 18:27)
You say: 'I'm too tired'
God says: I will give you rest
(Matthew 11:28-30)
You say: 'I can't go on'
God says: My grace is sufficient
(II Corinthians 12:9 & Psalm 91:15)
You say: 'I can't figure things out'
God says: I will direct your steps
(Proverbs 3:5- 6)
You say: 'I can't do it'
God says: Through ME you can do all things
( Philippians 4:13)
You say: 'I'm not able'
God says: I am able
(II Corinthians 9:8)
You say: 'It's not worth it'
God says: It will be worth it
(Roman 8:28 )
You say: 'I can't forgive myself'
God says: I Forgive you
(I John 1:9 & Romans 8:1)
You say: 'I can't manage'
God says: I will supply all your needs
( Philippians 4:19)
You say: 'I'm afraid'
God says: I have not given you a spirit of fear
(II Timothy 1:7)
You say: 'I'm always worried and frustrated'
God says: Cast all your cares on ME
(I Peter 5:7)
You say: 'I'm not smart enough'
God says: I give you wisdom
(I Corinthians 1:30)
You say: 'I feel all alone'
God says: I will never leave you nor forsake you
(Hebrews 13:5)
Saturday, September 15, 2012
His Love in action
"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:34)
Just a simple reminder of one of Jesus' greatest truths and commands: we are to love one another as our Savior has loved us. Of course, we can never love to that extent. Such sacrificial, infinite, unconditional love that would stretch out arms wide open on a cross to say "I love you this much" and give the fullest measure of love that can be given. Love that would take upon Himself my sin, my selfishness, my pride, my unkindness, my envy... and yours... and take it painfully, completely, yet joyfully. And in exchange give us His love, His grace, His peace, His kindness, His righteousness. All so we could live the abundant life He intended for us and the eternal life He planned for us.
No, that is not a love I can begin to understand or emulate.
I can only fall to my knees in wonder and adoration and pray, "Help me, Lord. Through Your Holy Spirit living within me, help me to love like You do. This day, might I shine forth Your love to others so that You would be glorified even in this imperfect, sin-prone earth-suit. Give me more love, Lord. Love through me."
For I have seen this love in action, up close and in person, And it is an awesome and wonderful sight to behold. I am surrounded by love's evidences all around me. As I write this, I am wrapped in a beautiful handmade prayer shawl. Evidence of His love. Thank You Father. Wrapping me in warmth and in the joyous reminder of the dear love of others in the midst of our marathon. And that love keeps us running.
Or I jot a note on a notepad someone has sent us. Or I gaze at a framed "Hope" sign from someone else. Or I see the cookies and cakes and candy from others... well, actually, I don't see them, I eat them! Or I put away the groceries someone else has picked up for us. Or I take up the folded laundry. Or I smell the lovely flowers sent by someone. Or I enjoy these amazing meals others have cooked. Or I open the books, read the cards, recall the verses in emails and texts... it just goes one and on: this utterly undeserved love poured out upon us by Your people, Father. Such love. Your love in action. People living out Your command to love as You loved--and evidencing to the world that they are Your disciples.
There is simply nothing like it. We will never forget it. How desperately we want to thank and thank and thank and pass it on so that others might know and feel and experience the love of our Almighty God through His people.
It reminds me of a little story I heard years ago and have never forgotten. A young child had just gone to bed and cried out in the darkness for her mother. "Mama, I scared of the dark. I'm all alone." Her mother rushed in and reminded her, "Sweetheart, you are never alone. Jesus is right there with you. Right here in this room." The frightened little one responded, "I know mama, but I need someone with a skin face."
We have seen Jesus with a skin face. And He is beautiful and sustaining and strengthening. His skin face has loved us through this marathon and keeps us running. And He will do the same for you.
There is nothing like His love. Might we all abide in His love today, thank Him for His love today, and then share His love with others today. So that the world may know His greatness. To God--who came and put on a skin face to demonstrate His LOVE--be all the glory.
Just a simple reminder of one of Jesus' greatest truths and commands: we are to love one another as our Savior has loved us. Of course, we can never love to that extent. Such sacrificial, infinite, unconditional love that would stretch out arms wide open on a cross to say "I love you this much" and give the fullest measure of love that can be given. Love that would take upon Himself my sin, my selfishness, my pride, my unkindness, my envy... and yours... and take it painfully, completely, yet joyfully. And in exchange give us His love, His grace, His peace, His kindness, His righteousness. All so we could live the abundant life He intended for us and the eternal life He planned for us.
No, that is not a love I can begin to understand or emulate.
I can only fall to my knees in wonder and adoration and pray, "Help me, Lord. Through Your Holy Spirit living within me, help me to love like You do. This day, might I shine forth Your love to others so that You would be glorified even in this imperfect, sin-prone earth-suit. Give me more love, Lord. Love through me."
For I have seen this love in action, up close and in person, And it is an awesome and wonderful sight to behold. I am surrounded by love's evidences all around me. As I write this, I am wrapped in a beautiful handmade prayer shawl. Evidence of His love. Thank You Father. Wrapping me in warmth and in the joyous reminder of the dear love of others in the midst of our marathon. And that love keeps us running.
Or I jot a note on a notepad someone has sent us. Or I gaze at a framed "Hope" sign from someone else. Or I see the cookies and cakes and candy from others... well, actually, I don't see them, I eat them! Or I put away the groceries someone else has picked up for us. Or I take up the folded laundry. Or I smell the lovely flowers sent by someone. Or I enjoy these amazing meals others have cooked. Or I open the books, read the cards, recall the verses in emails and texts... it just goes one and on: this utterly undeserved love poured out upon us by Your people, Father. Such love. Your love in action. People living out Your command to love as You loved--and evidencing to the world that they are Your disciples.
There is simply nothing like it. We will never forget it. How desperately we want to thank and thank and thank and pass it on so that others might know and feel and experience the love of our Almighty God through His people.
It reminds me of a little story I heard years ago and have never forgotten. A young child had just gone to bed and cried out in the darkness for her mother. "Mama, I scared of the dark. I'm all alone." Her mother rushed in and reminded her, "Sweetheart, you are never alone. Jesus is right there with you. Right here in this room." The frightened little one responded, "I know mama, but I need someone with a skin face."
We have seen Jesus with a skin face. And He is beautiful and sustaining and strengthening. His skin face has loved us through this marathon and keeps us running. And He will do the same for you.
There is nothing like His love. Might we all abide in His love today, thank Him for His love today, and then share His love with others today. So that the world may know His greatness. To God--who came and put on a skin face to demonstrate His LOVE--be all the glory.
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