Shane & Shane – Your Grace Is Sufficient
Sunday, November 23, 2014
When It's My Child...
Simon & Garfunkel – Bridge over Troubled Water
Be careful what you pray for.
I prayed to feel the suffering of my friends who are hurting this Christmas season. I prayed that I would be able to understand the hurt of those who are hurting this year. I meant it, and I don't regret praying it. But it has hit home to me tonight, and I realize that it is different when the pain gets personal.
It is different when it's my child.
Chloe just had another seizure.
And she's eleven hours away from me. This is the first time I haven't been there to hold my baby, to smooth her damp hair back from her forehead, or bend to kiss her cheek. She is 18, but to me she is three, just like Zoe and Caroline are, in my heart and my head. I sit here helpless, my heart pounding and my throat dry. I am weary of these seizures. So broken that my lovely girl has to have them, that her life is upended by the betrayal of her own body.
Oh dear God. I am on the phone with Zoe. She put the phone to Chloe's ear. My baby is crying. She is so confused like she always is. She is crying so hard and now I am crying too but she can't see me cry, thank God. Zoe is being very brave and calm and steady. I hear her saying the same things I say, in my voice, over and over. Soothing, calm, steadying.
"You're okay, Chloe. You're okay. You're doing good. You're doing good. You are okay, honey."
God, why?
God, this is my child.
This is my perfect baby, this child that is lying on this bed in this hospital hours away from me, afraid and confused and feeling bruised and sore.
I don't want this for her.
I remember my grandfather's seizures, how they robbed him, how they broke his spirit time and time again.
I remember my seizures, the ones that let the doctors find my brain tumor.
I DO NOT WANT THIS FOR MY CHILD, LORD.
"Now is the time to worship."
WHAT?
I hear the words again, quiet and sure.
I know they come from Him, but I rebel, suddenly. Suddenly, when it's my child, I find fury rising up within me.
No, Lord. No. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of watching her hurt. Seeing the way the seizures break her.
I do not want to worship at this moment.
No.
At this moment, I want to rage.
I want to scream.
I want to wail.
I want to keen.
I want to hit.
I want to run.
I want to numb.
I want to cry.
And cry and cry and cry and cry and cry forever.
What I do not want to do is worship.
Praise. Sing songs. Pray prayers. Read the Bible.
I sit tense in my chair, waiting for Zoe to call back. She calls. She says they gave Chloe some Ativan and it is helping. She says Chloe is holding her hand. She says Chloe looks beautiful, even after the whole thing she's been through.
I know what she means.
I remember her last seizure, back in May. It caught and tore the breath from me, watching her after the seizing stopped. She was so pale, her body still slightly trembling, and her eyes were closed, her mouth open, tears clung to her eyelashes. Her hair was blue back then, she changes it all the time, and she looked like the mermaid that she calls herself, with her blue hair splayed on the pillow, and her arms flung to the side.
Zoe says, "Mama, she said to tell you she loves you." She says they have to go. She promises to call me back after Chloe gets back.
They are taking her for a CT scan of her brain.
And suddenly, my tears come so hard I can't stop them. I sit forward in my chair, face in my hands, and I weep, I weep, I weep for this child I love more than my own life.
And I realize that when it's my child, it's much harder to take my own advice.
I am quick to tell others to pray through their pain. I am quick to offer Bible verses, sign them up on prayer lists, assure them that God is there and He understands and He won't leave them.
Tonight, alone in this room, with my girl so far away from me, I have to practice what I so easily preach.
Can I? Can I do it?
I don't bow my head. I lift it up. I look up at the ceiling and I close my eyes. I want to see Him.
I want to feel Him here.
In my anger, in my hurt, in my fear, I want to know that what I talk about every day, what I offer to other people, is going to help me now with my baby.
My heart still feels numb.
I do what I tell other people to do.
I say one word.
"Help."
That's all, just that one word. Anything more would be hypocritical, I think, because of the fury and pain inside of me.
"Now is the time to worship."
"Now is the time to worship."
I take a very deep, shuddering breath.
Okay, Lord, I'm thinking. I'll give it a shot. Since You keep telling me to.
But it won't be from my heart. It will be from my head. Just obedience. Not feeling.
Those are my thoughts, my plans. But His thoughts are higher than mine. His plans are different.
Bigger, powerful, earth-moving.
As I sit here, I feel it. A slow, quiet, huge calm begins to envelop me. Peace that I don't expect is warming me from my hurting heart outward.
I open my mouth. I do worship Him.
I do pray. I do worship worship worship this God, Who is my Lord, even of my anger, my fury, my fear and my pain.
No matter what happens with Chloe, Lord, I worship You.
No matter what happens with my own health, Lord, I worship You.
No matter what happens with my finances, Lord, I worship You.
No matter what. No matter how. No matter why. No matter where.
NO MATTER.
I WORSHIP YOU.
It is not easy, this road we're asked to follow. But it wasn't easy for Him either. It wasn't easy for Him to die. And we are called to be like Him.
Even when it hurts. Maybe, especially when it hurts.
I wait for a call back. But the peace is already here, somehow, and I know that whatever they say, my girl is in the safest place she can be. She's in the hands of an almighty God, the God Who breathed life into her body, the God Who loves her more than I.
When it's my child, I want to be His child even more, so I can give her to Him, and trust that He will take care of her His way.
Raw faith cuts like a knife and makes it hard to breathe.
But it is the only kind of faith I believe in.
Be careful what you pray for.
I prayed to feel the suffering of my friends who are hurting this Christmas season. I prayed that I would be able to understand the hurt of those who are hurting this year. I meant it, and I don't regret praying it. But it has hit home to me tonight, and I realize that it is different when the pain gets personal.
It is different when it's my child.
Chloe just had another seizure.
And she's eleven hours away from me. This is the first time I haven't been there to hold my baby, to smooth her damp hair back from her forehead, or bend to kiss her cheek. She is 18, but to me she is three, just like Zoe and Caroline are, in my heart and my head. I sit here helpless, my heart pounding and my throat dry. I am weary of these seizures. So broken that my lovely girl has to have them, that her life is upended by the betrayal of her own body.
Oh dear God. I am on the phone with Zoe. She put the phone to Chloe's ear. My baby is crying. She is so confused like she always is. She is crying so hard and now I am crying too but she can't see me cry, thank God. Zoe is being very brave and calm and steady. I hear her saying the same things I say, in my voice, over and over. Soothing, calm, steadying.
"You're okay, Chloe. You're okay. You're doing good. You're doing good. You are okay, honey."
God, why?
God, this is my child.
This is my perfect baby, this child that is lying on this bed in this hospital hours away from me, afraid and confused and feeling bruised and sore.
I don't want this for her.
I remember my grandfather's seizures, how they robbed him, how they broke his spirit time and time again.
I remember my seizures, the ones that let the doctors find my brain tumor.
I DO NOT WANT THIS FOR MY CHILD, LORD.
"Now is the time to worship."
WHAT?
I hear the words again, quiet and sure.
I know they come from Him, but I rebel, suddenly. Suddenly, when it's my child, I find fury rising up within me.
No, Lord. No. I'm tired of this. I'm tired of watching her hurt. Seeing the way the seizures break her.
I do not want to worship at this moment.
No.
At this moment, I want to rage.
I want to scream.
I want to wail.
I want to keen.
I want to hit.
I want to run.
I want to numb.
I want to cry.
And cry and cry and cry and cry and cry forever.
What I do not want to do is worship.
Praise. Sing songs. Pray prayers. Read the Bible.
I sit tense in my chair, waiting for Zoe to call back. She calls. She says they gave Chloe some Ativan and it is helping. She says Chloe is holding her hand. She says Chloe looks beautiful, even after the whole thing she's been through.
I know what she means.
I remember her last seizure, back in May. It caught and tore the breath from me, watching her after the seizing stopped. She was so pale, her body still slightly trembling, and her eyes were closed, her mouth open, tears clung to her eyelashes. Her hair was blue back then, she changes it all the time, and she looked like the mermaid that she calls herself, with her blue hair splayed on the pillow, and her arms flung to the side.
Zoe says, "Mama, she said to tell you she loves you." She says they have to go. She promises to call me back after Chloe gets back.
They are taking her for a CT scan of her brain.
And suddenly, my tears come so hard I can't stop them. I sit forward in my chair, face in my hands, and I weep, I weep, I weep for this child I love more than my own life.
And I realize that when it's my child, it's much harder to take my own advice.
I am quick to tell others to pray through their pain. I am quick to offer Bible verses, sign them up on prayer lists, assure them that God is there and He understands and He won't leave them.
Tonight, alone in this room, with my girl so far away from me, I have to practice what I so easily preach.
Can I? Can I do it?
I don't bow my head. I lift it up. I look up at the ceiling and I close my eyes. I want to see Him.
I want to feel Him here.
In my anger, in my hurt, in my fear, I want to know that what I talk about every day, what I offer to other people, is going to help me now with my baby.
My heart still feels numb.
I do what I tell other people to do.
I say one word.
"Help."
That's all, just that one word. Anything more would be hypocritical, I think, because of the fury and pain inside of me.
"Now is the time to worship."
"Now is the time to worship."
I take a very deep, shuddering breath.
Okay, Lord, I'm thinking. I'll give it a shot. Since You keep telling me to.
But it won't be from my heart. It will be from my head. Just obedience. Not feeling.
Those are my thoughts, my plans. But His thoughts are higher than mine. His plans are different.
Bigger, powerful, earth-moving.
As I sit here, I feel it. A slow, quiet, huge calm begins to envelop me. Peace that I don't expect is warming me from my hurting heart outward.
I open my mouth. I do worship Him.
I do pray. I do worship worship worship this God, Who is my Lord, even of my anger, my fury, my fear and my pain.
No matter what happens with Chloe, Lord, I worship You.
No matter what happens with my own health, Lord, I worship You.
No matter what happens with my finances, Lord, I worship You.
No matter what. No matter how. No matter why. No matter where.
NO MATTER.
I WORSHIP YOU.
It is not easy, this road we're asked to follow. But it wasn't easy for Him either. It wasn't easy for Him to die. And we are called to be like Him.
Even when it hurts. Maybe, especially when it hurts.
I wait for a call back. But the peace is already here, somehow, and I know that whatever they say, my girl is in the safest place she can be. She's in the hands of an almighty God, the God Who breathed life into her body, the God Who loves her more than I.
When it's my child, I want to be His child even more, so I can give her to Him, and trust that He will take care of her His way.
Raw faith cuts like a knife and makes it hard to breathe.
But it is the only kind of faith I believe in.
Marlo's Song ...
https://www.reverbnation.com/artist/signup?utm_campaign=FacebookSharing_v3&utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=signup&utm_content=artist_3146516
by her husband..."Til My Dying Day".....lovely song...
Monday, November 17, 2014
Sour Patch Faith
Tonight I tried something new. My youngest daughter left a package of Sour Patch candies on my writing desk. I have never been tempted to eat this particular treat, lol, but my stomach was a bit upset and I thought the sourness might help. As I nibbled on the sour/sweet candy, I was surprised at how the two opposite tastes came together to make for a flavorful sensation. It struck me, suddenly, that life is like this sometimes in our walk as Christians. We have the sour, we have the sweet, and when we are able to see them both as equally from the Hand of God, we find that life has a pleasant balance.
The times in my life that I have been closest to God are the times when it was hardest to keep going, one foot in front of the other. I love being a happy person, and smiling, being positive, just enjoying being alive. But it is in the hurt, the fear, the loneliness that lasts all night long, when I feel totally abandoned and rejected...that is when the presence of God shines brightest for me.
If you are going through a sour time in your life, if it feels like there is no sweetness left in your world, take heart, my friend. God sees you. He feels your pain. And whether you feel Him or not, whether you see Him or not, HE IS THERE.
HE is GOD. HE is there for you. He will not ever walk away.
Faith that exists only in good times is a very shallow, superficial faith. The faith that stands the test of time, that faith, comes only after being tested in the hottest of fires. You are seen tonight. Wherever you are....alone in your room, out in a crowd of faces, with a husband or wife, with your children, in a hospital bed, in church, even...wherever you are, He is right there with you.
Take heart. Sour Patch faith isn't for cowards. You are strong, and you will come out of this victorious. I promise you that.
The times in my life that I have been closest to God are the times when it was hardest to keep going, one foot in front of the other. I love being a happy person, and smiling, being positive, just enjoying being alive. But it is in the hurt, the fear, the loneliness that lasts all night long, when I feel totally abandoned and rejected...that is when the presence of God shines brightest for me.
If you are going through a sour time in your life, if it feels like there is no sweetness left in your world, take heart, my friend. God sees you. He feels your pain. And whether you feel Him or not, whether you see Him or not, HE IS THERE.
HE is GOD. HE is there for you. He will not ever walk away.
Faith that exists only in good times is a very shallow, superficial faith. The faith that stands the test of time, that faith, comes only after being tested in the hottest of fires. You are seen tonight. Wherever you are....alone in your room, out in a crowd of faces, with a husband or wife, with your children, in a hospital bed, in church, even...wherever you are, He is right there with you.
Take heart. Sour Patch faith isn't for cowards. You are strong, and you will come out of this victorious. I promise you that.
Thursday, November 13, 2014
Glory of the Ordinary
I'm never clearer than when I'm walking my dogs, which is why, even though I dread facing the chill here in North Georgia, I make myself do it every day. I force myself to snap on leashes, shrug into my jacket, and slip on thick gloves. It was so much easier in South Florida, when the weather never changed, was consistently pleasant and warm and easy on the skin, the eyes, the heart. But there is something inside of me that soars every time we go. I know this, so I do what I need to do to get out there. Today was no exception.
Crunching through orange leaves, I draw in a deep breath of cool, fall air and stare up at God's art as we make our way to the park. I catch my breath, stunned over and over again (it never fails), at the sheer beauty surrounding me. I get to see this stuff for free, I marvel, as I take in crimson leaves, pointy tips edged in deep warm yellow. The trees are alive with color, so bright and so vivid, my heart hurts taking in all that glorious paint job by God. How is it even real, I wonder, even as I know that it is true. I am a child again, star-struck with wonder and awe at the shamelessly brilliant display.
Beau tugs eagerly on his leash, his youth evident as he bounds forth, so happy to be outside, so ready to investigate, to explore, to touch ground with his nose, to sniff out the trail of other dogs before him on this path. Sassy balks, wanting to go slow, take her time. I am pulled between the two of them. One arm is stretched out to accommodate Beau, one arm bent to keep from jerking Sassy along.
It will be time to pick Caroline up soon from school.
The thought brings me immense pleasure. I love her stories, the long ones that wind on and on, sentences without periods, the only break her exclamations and question marks. I bring the dogs back home, tightening up on the leashes to keep them by my side on the narrow bike path that skirts our busy road. I was late to get her yesterday, lost in the library, and I don't want to be late today.
Here's what I know today.
Every moment is perfect.
Every second on this earth, it's a privilege.
We have the Miraculous in every minute.
When You Walk Through The Fire...
What do you do when you don't feel holy? You are a Christian, but you feel lost in some place that seems very far away from God. You go to church. It feels great while you're there, but you know you have to go home when it's over. You drive there, and you get ready for bed, and the lights are out, and suddenly, you are terribly, horribly alone. Fear rises up. You feel your throat close up. Terror strikes your heart. You are in a pit, and you have no idea how on earth you will ever get out of it.
It is different for each of us. I remember times when my girls were little, and I tucked them into bed, smoothed the hair back from their small foreheads, and bent to kiss them good night. I would gently close their doors, and walk back to my own room, where....many, many nights...I would cry myself to sleep. I was lonely. I was afraid. I didn't know how to make the money stretch. I wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be all right.
You may not be lonely. You may have a wonderful husband or wife. But cancer has come to your home, a most unwelcome visitor. You don't know what is going to happen. Will it go away? Is healing going to happen?
Maybe you don't have enough money for your light bill, or the rent. No matter how far you stretch it, the money is just not enough. You may be getting evicted, as you read these words. In a few short days, you have nowhere to go. You are afraid, you are scared to death. Will you be homeless in less than a week?
I think about my dear and precious friend, who has lost his wife, I feel the searing pain that burns through him. The grief is palpable. His loneliness is vast and dark and deep. He feels he is in a hole that he cannot climb out of.
I prayed to understand him, and You answered me. You gave me a sense of aloneness, an awful loneliness, a grief that has surrounded me on every side. I almost wish I hadn't prayed that prayer. This is terrifying, dark, bleak, and hopeless. I feel the darkness, and it is as if I am completely alone in the world. Depression crushes me. Despair grips my heart. I feel there is no hope. I don't have the words to help this man. I love him, and I want to help, but I feel powerless in the face of the enormity of his pain.
But in faith, by faith, I have to believe that there IS hope for him.
For all of us, whatever we are facing.
If God cannot help us in times like these, what good is it to talk about being a Christian? If it is just about the happy times, what help is our faith? our Christianity?
He doesn't promise easy answers. God is not Santa Claus. It's not about erasing all pain, taking away all heartache. That life would be Pollyanna-ish, and I don't think anyone really wants a life that shallow. Without pain, there is no understanding of true joy. But to live in the midst of pain, and to find yourself victory in my midst of it, that is what I want to help my friend to do.
Read Lamentations 3.
It is a powerhouse of feeling. It is a story of grief. It is a literal description of what loneliness, bitterness, anger, frustration, despair can do to your heart. It can shrivel up your soul. It can fill you with devastating fear. You may have a panic attack. But keep reading!
Hope comes in the midst of the pain.
Along with the heartache and the fear and the terror, we have a promise. We have a promise that we are NOT alone. We have a promise that God is with us through the pain. He SEES us, right where we are, and He is walking there in that mess with us.
He will hold us.
He will guide us.
He will lift us.
He will redeem us.
He will restore us.
He will love us to a place of peace that passes all human understanding.
It does not matter what you are going through today, right this very minute. Whatever you are facing, GOD IS WITH YOU. He is with you. He is with you. He is with you. You may not see Him. You may not feel His touch, but that does not mean His touch is not there. It is!
When you are broken apart, and you are bruised, and you are crying your heart out, remember that God does not change. He will not change His mind about you. He will not leave you. He will not forsake you. He will help you.
I can't make you believe this. But I can tell you, from my experience, that my God is faithful and true. He will deliver you from what you are facing.
If all you can do is say "Help me, God" ...that is ENOUGH. You don't have to be a preacher to see the Hand of God on your life. He is there for each and everyone of us.
This is your promise from an Almighty God.
Try it. Try Him. See what He will do for you.
I love you and my heart is with you tonight.
It is different for each of us. I remember times when my girls were little, and I tucked them into bed, smoothed the hair back from their small foreheads, and bent to kiss them good night. I would gently close their doors, and walk back to my own room, where....many, many nights...I would cry myself to sleep. I was lonely. I was afraid. I didn't know how to make the money stretch. I wanted someone to hold me and tell me everything was going to be all right.
You may not be lonely. You may have a wonderful husband or wife. But cancer has come to your home, a most unwelcome visitor. You don't know what is going to happen. Will it go away? Is healing going to happen?
Maybe you don't have enough money for your light bill, or the rent. No matter how far you stretch it, the money is just not enough. You may be getting evicted, as you read these words. In a few short days, you have nowhere to go. You are afraid, you are scared to death. Will you be homeless in less than a week?
I think about my dear and precious friend, who has lost his wife, I feel the searing pain that burns through him. The grief is palpable. His loneliness is vast and dark and deep. He feels he is in a hole that he cannot climb out of.
I prayed to understand him, and You answered me. You gave me a sense of aloneness, an awful loneliness, a grief that has surrounded me on every side. I almost wish I hadn't prayed that prayer. This is terrifying, dark, bleak, and hopeless. I feel the darkness, and it is as if I am completely alone in the world. Depression crushes me. Despair grips my heart. I feel there is no hope. I don't have the words to help this man. I love him, and I want to help, but I feel powerless in the face of the enormity of his pain.
But in faith, by faith, I have to believe that there IS hope for him.
For all of us, whatever we are facing.
If God cannot help us in times like these, what good is it to talk about being a Christian? If it is just about the happy times, what help is our faith? our Christianity?
He doesn't promise easy answers. God is not Santa Claus. It's not about erasing all pain, taking away all heartache. That life would be Pollyanna-ish, and I don't think anyone really wants a life that shallow. Without pain, there is no understanding of true joy. But to live in the midst of pain, and to find yourself victory in my midst of it, that is what I want to help my friend to do.
Read Lamentations 3.
It is a powerhouse of feeling. It is a story of grief. It is a literal description of what loneliness, bitterness, anger, frustration, despair can do to your heart. It can shrivel up your soul. It can fill you with devastating fear. You may have a panic attack. But keep reading!
Hope comes in the midst of the pain.
Along with the heartache and the fear and the terror, we have a promise. We have a promise that we are NOT alone. We have a promise that God is with us through the pain. He SEES us, right where we are, and He is walking there in that mess with us.
He will hold us.
He will guide us.
He will lift us.
He will redeem us.
He will restore us.
He will love us to a place of peace that passes all human understanding.
It does not matter what you are going through today, right this very minute. Whatever you are facing, GOD IS WITH YOU. He is with you. He is with you. He is with you. You may not see Him. You may not feel His touch, but that does not mean His touch is not there. It is!
When you are broken apart, and you are bruised, and you are crying your heart out, remember that God does not change. He will not change His mind about you. He will not leave you. He will not forsake you. He will help you.
I can't make you believe this. But I can tell you, from my experience, that my God is faithful and true. He will deliver you from what you are facing.
If all you can do is say "Help me, God" ...that is ENOUGH. You don't have to be a preacher to see the Hand of God on your life. He is there for each and everyone of us.
This is your promise from an Almighty God.
Try it. Try Him. See what He will do for you.
I love you and my heart is with you tonight.
Wednesday, November 12, 2014
This is Your Time!
This is your time! This is your time for God to work, to move, to lead, to guide. God has to prepare and make us ready to do the work that He has called us to do. Obviously, God feels I am a slow learner, lol, because He keeps repeating that message to me over and over again! Thank You, Lord, I get it!
At church tonight, we had a guest speaker from Australia. His name is Russell Evans and he is with Planet Shaker. His message was this: that God has His hand on His church, and that this time is the time that He is working to bring about His will on this earth, for this time and for His purpose.
I am humbled and bowed down before His tender call to us, His love and His patience, and most of all, His incredible concern for each and every detail of our lives. He cares about all the things we need to get in order, all the ways we need to put the broken places back together before we set out to work for Him.
I have nothing to share tonight, past this. I want to get offline and in the Word and saturate myself with His Word, in His presence. Earlier today, I thought about how this blog has become more of a journal between me and my Lord, and that's okay. I'm not sure if anyone reads it, but it is a way for me to express what is happening in my heart, and in my journey. This blog helps me to bear witness to what my God is doing in my heart, mind, soul and life.
That is enough.
At church tonight, we had a guest speaker from Australia. His name is Russell Evans and he is with Planet Shaker. His message was this: that God has His hand on His church, and that this time is the time that He is working to bring about His will on this earth, for this time and for His purpose.
I am humbled and bowed down before His tender call to us, His love and His patience, and most of all, His incredible concern for each and every detail of our lives. He cares about all the things we need to get in order, all the ways we need to put the broken places back together before we set out to work for Him.
I have nothing to share tonight, past this. I want to get offline and in the Word and saturate myself with His Word, in His presence. Earlier today, I thought about how this blog has become more of a journal between me and my Lord, and that's okay. I'm not sure if anyone reads it, but it is a way for me to express what is happening in my heart, and in my journey. This blog helps me to bear witness to what my God is doing in my heart, mind, soul and life.
That is enough.
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