But blessed is the {woman} who trusts in the LORD, whose confidence is in him.
{She} will be like a tree planted by the water that sends out its roots by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; its leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit.
Jeremiah 17:7-8
Everything that touches the water of this river will live. Fish will abound in the Dead Sea, for its waters will be healed. Wherever this water flows, everything will live. All kinds of fruit trees will grow along both sides of the river. The leaves of these trees will never turn brown and fall, and there will always be fruit on their branches. There will be a new crop every month, without fail! For they are watered by the river flowing from the Temple. The fruit will be for food and the leaves for healing."
Ezekiel 47:9,12
This summer I've joined a Bible study called "The Red Sea Rules" (by Robert J. Morgan) with other women struggling with some area in their life. My issue right now is my husband's health. He has been feeling unwell for about six months now. What makes it even more frustrating is the doctors can't figure out exactly what's wrong.
This study has been helping me focus on "10 God-given strategies for difficult times" and I wanted to share them with you. If you aren't experiencing a difficult situation right now, maybe you know someone who is. Or hold tight to these rules next time you feel boxed in with no where to turn. Remember God parted the Red Sea for the Israelites when they felt cornered by Pharaoh and his powerful Egyptian army? He can part that same Red Sea for you and me!
Red Sea Rule #1: Realize that God means for you to be where you are.
Red Sea Rule #2: Be more concerned for God's glory than for your relief.
Red Sea Rule #3: Acknowledge your enemy, but keep your eyes on the Lord.
Red Sea Rule #4: Pray!
Red Sea Rule #5: Stay calm and confident, and give God time to work.
Red Sea Rule #6: When unsure, just take the next logical step by faith.
Red Sea Rule #7: Envision God's enveloping presence.
Red Sea Rule #8: Trust God to deliver in His own unique way.
Red Sea Rule #9: View your current crisis as a faith builder for the future.
Red Sea Rule #10: Don't forget to praise Him.
From Page 72: "When you find yourself between sword and sea, remember that difficult times can sensitize us to God's nearness. He's never so close as when we're shipwrecked on omnipotence and driven by despair into His chambers where we find Him 'a very present help in trouble.' " (Psalm 46:1).
I will even make a way in the wilderness, and rivers in the desert. (Isaiah 43:19.)
You made a way through the sea and paths through the deep waters, but your footprints were not seen. You led your people like a flock by using Moses and Aaron. (Psalm 77:19-20.)
You must not fear them, for the Lord your God Himself fights for you. (Deut. 3:22.)
The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still. (Exodus 14:14.)
Then Moses stretched out his hand over the sea, and all that night the Lord drove the sea back with a strong east wind and turned it into dry land. The waters were divided, and the Israelites went through the sea on dry ground, with a wall of water on their right and on their left. (Exodus 14:21-22.)
In the town where I was raised, our family relocated like nomadic gypsies. While we lived in the same small berg for 14 years, we moved five times, an average of 2.8 years in each abode. We didn’t allow much time to let the grass grow before we set our sights on new digs. I’m not certain the reasons behind all these moves from one end of town to the other. I don’t think we were run out of neighborhoods for too many dandelions or breaking a noise ordinance.We certainly didn't display our appliances on the front porch. It’s not like my parents had 17 annoying children harassing the neighbors, either. Three is a pretty normal number, and we definitely were quite angelic. So, why we moved from house to house, I don’t really know unless my dad has gypsy roots. This hopping around like rabbits resulted in purging possessions as frequently as emptying our trash.
In any case, I’ve learned to simplify along the way since for many years, I too, carried this gypsy gene in my veins. Until this last house in which I’ve resided for the last 11 years, I had relocated 15 times in 15 years, a measly year in each place. Goodness, a year is only enough time to move in, unpack and begin looking for a new dwelling! I felt like a squirrel scrambling up one tree, unloading a few acorns, only to set his sights on the next tree, looking for that place to call home. I didn’t have time to become a packrat or a collector of Precious Moments or Lladro. An itinerant lifestyle doesn’t lend itself to piling up possessions like Adele collecting awards at the Grammy’s.
I’m not quite sure why the man of the house complains about my growing mountain of books while he clings to Accounting and Calculus textbooks from ancient times. Surely, combs with teeth missing don’t pack sentimental value. And, why does he continue to save ski maps of Aspen and Vale from 1982? What causes us to cling to these articles that sit uselessly in the dark? It’s like those clothes I simply can’t discard because I might wear them—someday. Lest I place all the blame on my poor partner, why on earth do I keep research papers from college or high school unless I need to spark a bonfire? Do I really want to show my daughter my piano evaluation that displays my hapless grade on practicing and dynamics (the very things she struggles with)? I might not be a packrat in the truest sense of the word, but what objects do I keep hidden away…just.in.case—like the two indoor water fountains that we might display someday, or the million tote bags tucked away, or the tent we’ve never used (nor will we, if I have any say). The list is endless…
And so, I simplified the storage. I emptied boxes like my 20-year-old son eats cereal. Forty-old-combs and thirty-year-old maps disappeared, and the “we might use them someday” fountains recycled. The tent was miraculously saved for “one of those years”. The storage closet, now condensed and compact like a smart car, whereas before, navigating that room was like a soldier tiptoeing across a mine field. Boxes precariously positioned and items haphazardly strewn about endangered anyone entering the room.
Cleaning out unnecessary items is cathartic. Especially for the soul. What menacing matters jeopardize my heart? What clutters my conscience? Am I hiding, harboring, or hanging onto something like a child refusing to unclench her favorite blanket or stuffed animal to be washed? Do I really think I can keep anything secret from the One who sees all?
“You have set our iniquities before you, our secret sins in the light of your presence.” Psalm 90:8
So often I convince myself that if no one else knows about my anger simmering like soup, God is oblivious to it as well. Then, I read words about God creating me in the secret place, and I remember nothing is hidden from my Creator.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.” Psalm 139:15-16
He, who created me, is intimately familiar with everything that makes me tick. As I ponder this verse, I comprehend how strangely comforting this truth is. The God of the Universe knows me—the terrible thoughts, the shady secrets, the awful attitudes—and loves me in spite of what lurks in my heart. While others might recoil, Jesus embraces me. He exposes my sin in the light of His presence and invites me to experience His forgiveness, like the woman caught in the act of adultery. Her sin uncovered and accusers gone, Jesus forgives and summons her to live differently—to expunge damaging deeds done in the dark.
And so, He calls all of us to walk in the light, to eradicate concealed cargo that we grip tightly to. As we let go, our hearts can be filled with His goodness and grace. Just as our storage compartments are expunged of unnecessary clutter, so our hearts are freed from those secret sins which weigh us down.
“Search me, O God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.” Psalm 139:23-24
My daughter planted three seeds. Two of which sprouted within the week she planted them. The last tiny pot showed no signs of growth for two weeks. I had just decided it was a dud, a failure. Then today my hope grew...
Let us not become tired of doing good. At the right time we will gather crop if we don't give up. Galatians 6:9 NIrV
“I wouldn‘t wait until Monday, it may be too late,” I heard at the other end of the phone from the Hospice nurse. My grandfather, who I have always called “Papa” with the deepest adoration, was dying. On the second day of December, I flew to FL to be with him, hoping I would make it in time and have the honor of being with him at the very moment he passed away.
I easily passed the time with him just being there, content to hold his hand, clean it and apply lotion, play his favorite music on the CD player, my heart heavy hearing 40s songs like, “I‘ll Be Seeing You” and “I Don‘t Want to Walk Without You”. I even found myself singing to him, dropping my fear of the nurses hearing my fluctuating key – pouring my love into “Amazing Grace”, “You are My Sunshine” and any soothing song that came to mind.
Though he was unresponsive, I wanted him to know I was there, so I kept telling him, “Papa, it‘s Sandee, I‘m here.” I said it to him about every 15 minutes and I would rub his shoulder or hand as I said it. I longed for him to open his eyes and respond to me in some way, but he just laid there, struggling to breathe as his lungs filled with fluid and the drugs kept him “comfortable”. On Sunday, December 4th, at twilight as the Florida sun was beginning to drift from the sky and into the ocean, my Papa transitioned into Heaven to the sound of my urgent last words to him, “Papa! I love you!“… an immediate, deep gasp followed my words, perhaps in response… a pulse check by the nurse, one more breath and he was free.
A few weeks after he passed away, I realized I can be unresponsive and God is like my presence was with Papa. I clearly see how God is constantly saying to me, “Sandee, it‘s God, I‘m here.” He was speaking those same words to me each time I said them to Papa and He never stops saying them to each one of us. His love for us compelled Him to a Cross, restoring us to Himself, and it compels Him to be by our side every precious second of our lives and even into, and through, the “valley of the shadow of death”.
As you read this, He is right by your side (Ps. 46:1), singing over you (Zeph 3:17), gently rubbing your hand saying, “(Insert your name), it‘s God, I‘m here.” It breaks His heart when we “lay there” not responding to Him – prayer is responding, talking to the God who can‘t help but love you, who ADORES you so deeply… respond to Him, it might be as simple as saying, “I know You are there, God, thank You. I love you, too!”
Recently, I watched for the second time the newest Disney version of The Chronicles of Narnia: The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe. Aslan, the Lion and allegorical representation of Jesus, captivated me. He displayed an uncommon kindness and gentleness yet every silent lion-step he took exhibited mighty power and ultimate supremacy--Aslan was a force not to be reckoned with.
For those of you who have seen the movie or read the book, you know the story. I must, however, share a magnificent moment for me from this allegory. Edmund, the boy who betrays everyone to satisfy his fleshly desires, is accused of being a traitor, an accusation that cannot be denied. The antagonist, the White Witch, declares that, by law, every traitor belongs to her and must be killed on the stone table. That exact predicament is precisely what each and every one of us faces in our lives. When we sin, we betray God and the consequence is death.
Aslan privately arranges with the White Witch a rescue plan for Edmund . Without a fight, Aslan chooses not to exercise his magnificent power that could defeat any opposition and willingly exchanges his own guiltless life to save one mere boy in dire need of salvation. Aslan could have defeated the dark forces in one fell swoop of his mighty paw, but instead, he submitted himself to a cruel, painful, drawn-out murder to save Edmund, consequently the entire race of man.
My heart is full of gratitude to Christ Jesus, my Savior! I am unworthy, yet willingly, without a fight, He died for me.
The stage has been a part of my life for a long time. At four, I spoke my first line on stage as a little firefly in a children's Christmas program. At six, I played a cute lamb in another children's musical. That was just the beginning of my performance record. From drama groups to high school musicals I always found room for theater in my life. I literally loved the life of performance.
Not only is performing on a stage one of my strong interests, but performing, itself, is a dominating aspect of my personality. A large portion of my mental struggles center around performance-based questions like "How am I performing for the people around me?", "How do others perceive me?", or "Am I appealing to the people around me?". I tend to make every scene in my life a part of a series in this climatic, theatrical performance which is merely life, not the stage.
It goes to show that I tend to view the world as a stage. William Shakespeare said it best in the monologue from his play, As You Like It, "All the world's a stage, And all the men and women merely players". That, my friend, is the way my brain inclines to think.
As a young teen, however, I began growing in my desire to follow Jesus and to do His will while simultaneously continuing to pursue my love for drama. The problem that I facedis that the stage usually is about the actors and actresses, fame and the limelight. How can you act on stage for Jesus? It seemed to be a rather selfish profession not a very humble, holy one.
During my junior high years, I believed I found the answer to: "How do you act on stage for Jesus?" Three words: Audience of One. God is your audience, not men. Do everything for Jesus. Well, that sounded like a biblical way to justify the life of theater. I mean, Colosians 3:23 even says, "Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for men", so it must be okay to perform as long as you do it for God and not for selfish reasons.
In more recent years, the life of the theater has become somewhat a distant pasttime--my glory days. Rather than peforming on stage, I perform everywhere else: at home, at work, at church. Whenever I find myself analyzing other people's perception of me and worrying about how I am 'performing', I go back to what I learned as a seventeen-year old and recite the three-word phrase: "Audience of One. I have an audience of One! Audience of One", that way I can realign my motives with a godly attitude to stop being so concerned about pleasing people but instead, refocus on pleasing God, and God ONLY. The Light: Very, very few times have I known that God spoke to me, but a few weeks ago "I saw the light" and I am sure it was God speaking directly to me.
I had been worrying about disappointing someone, I felt like I let someone down, and the world was disapproving my actions (ever felt that way?) and so I told myself (like I have for the past fifteen years), "Rebecca, you have an audience of One. It doesn't matter what other people think about you. You are not performing for people, you are performing for God...." A jolt stopped me in mid-thought. God interrupted my rote lines I had articulated perfectly for years and He clearly said, "I am not the audience, YOU ARE THE AUDIENCE, Rebecca."
BAM! My belief system that I had constructed about my relationship with God, suddenly began to unravel before my eyes.
View from Center Stage
Immediately, I flashed back to just a few short months ago when I was alone on a retreat away from home at an outdoor ampi-theater. I stood center on the emptystage before empty seats and my heart painfully longed to be right there, in the limelight of life doing something spectacular. Overcome with the grief-stricken truth of my reality, I dragged my heels and hung my head sadly knowing I had become the girl backstage. I never wanted to be backstage; I wanted to be the star of the show, not behind the scene doing the unmentionable, overlooked work of the offstage crew. Sucking it up and rising above my immature, pity party, I attempted to accept my lot in life, but could not ignore the discontentment that swelled within. Backstage was my future.
View from Backstage
Two months after that experience, God used those images from my retreat to clarify the message He wanted me to hear. I was not backstage, center stage, or even stage right, I was in the audience!
View from the audience
My mind, suddenly flooded with light, was set free - the burden I had carried for so long had been vanquished. No longer am I held captive by the pressure of performing for ANYONE, not even for God! I am in the audience and all I have to do is respond to HIM and to His work that He is doing.
Philippians 1:6 says,
"being confident of this, that he who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."
Take heart, friends! God does the work. Therefore, it is really hard (impossible actually) to fail when He is the One doing the work. Life is not a stage, but rather an audience watching God at work. What a relief! All we have to do is take a seat, watch God, and respond to Him. Thank You, Lord.
Revelation 1:12-13,17-18a:
"Then I turned to see the voice that was speaking to me. And having turned I saw seven golden lampstands; and in the MIDDLE [center stage] of the lampstands I saw one like a Son of man... When I saw Him, I fell at His feet like a dead man. And He placed His right hand on me saying, 'Do not be afraid, I am the first and the last and the living One... "
The mantra chanted repeatedly in circles around this time of year is familiar to most of us. “Did you make any New Year’s Resolutions?” spills out of mouths like the greeting, “Merry Christmas.” People’s responses range from scorn because of past failures to excitement for what might be achieved. I’ve failed miserably when making goals. One year I planned to eliminate sweets from my diet. In the midst of eating a piece of cake, I realized I forgot about my goal. The rest was history including that resolution. Since then, I’ve learned tips about making goals more specific and measurable. Perhaps I would’ve succeeded if my resolve were to cut sweets to three times a week instead of never eating them again. I grasped the real lesson:
never again make a resolution involving chocolate.
I enjoy creating goals for the New Year, focusing my energy with God’s help in various areas, such as family, spiritual, physical, ministry and leadership. In recent years, however, I’ve also prayed about a “word” that will characterize my year. Around November, I ponder what word God might speak to me. Many times, this word will crop up as I’m reading my Bible or another book. I may sense that He’s teaching me a trait through a family issue. I always hope it’s not patience because I really don’t want to take those field trip experiences.
A journal writer sporadically since a teen, I love looking back at what I’ve written. In my diary days, I wrote inspiring notes about boys I liked and ugly words about my sister: “She thinks she’s pretty, but she’s not.” It’s good for a chuckle but not much else. As an adult, I’ve vented and vomited words on the page. I’ve prayed and praised the God to whom I owe everything. And, I’ve remembered and recounted the events of each year. So, as I roll back the time to 2010 when my word was “flourish,” I read that it was filled with tough times, and I wrote, “I’m not sure that (flourish) really occurred in my estimation.” It felt much more like failure to me.
Last year, my word was “God’s Goodness.” Okay, that’s two words, but who’s counting? The year began with “my brain is encased in a thick fog this morning after a migraine that felt like it was going to blow its innards like Mt. St. Helens. My left ear throbs as if someone were poking me with sharp needles.” Off to a great start so far. I began to wonder about my chosen “words” when I spent the first two week s of January 2011 in bed several days with various sicknesses…migraines, dizziness, ear pain and vomiting. Intersperse about a million snow days when the kids were hanging around, and that’s a little too much goodness for me!
Yet, what God taught me with those two words over the course of the year was that His goodness had nothing to do with my circumstances. In one journal entry, I wrote, “The year can only go up from here, right?! Right?! My words, “God’s goodness,” for 2011 sound almost humorous. Still I know that just because my circumstances have been bleak doesn’t mean He isn’t good. It’s all in the perspective, right?” Like a roller coaster, the year was up then down, yet I experienced His goodness in all of it. Our circumstances may not be outwardly good, but God can use them for our eternal good. What I found is that God’s goodness permeated each event in my life last year. It’s a lesson I will not forget.
So, what does this year hold? What word am I hanging on to? Drum roll, please….This year, I believe it’s “grace.” Grace for me when I blow it, and grace for me to offer others. Beyond that, I’m waiting to see how the year unfolds and what God will show me! Now, it’s your turn.
It’s been a long time since I’ve written anything here. I’m sure some of you thought I just ceased to write or care. That is not the case at all. Rather, God was doing a work in me in 2011 – a work that was hard and painful sometimes; joyful and easy others. It was a work that required me to spend more time with Him than I spent on other things.
image by google
And, it was a work that asked me to be still and silent before Him; to lean on Him instead of my friends and family; to trust that He really did know best, even when my heart was hurting and my head was swimming. 2011 was a year unlike any other I have experienced. And while I won’t “bore you” with all the details, I wanted to come back to Mainstream by sharing with you the lessons I learned while I was mostly silent in the valleys of last year.
Trusting God Is NOT Always Easy
It’s a simple lesson, and a simple message. It’s one you’ve probably heard a million times, but the reality of it became apparent in my life in 2011. I had to choose in a dark moment whether to trust Him or trust the world. I chose to trust Him. I had to choose to love Him instead of hanging on to what I wanted to understand. I had to love Him when I didn’t know how to love right. I had to give my tears to Him. I realized that I wanted so much to believe that God wanted what was best for me; but it was so hard to see that in the valleys. Learning to trust His plan for my life when I felt like everything was spiraling out of control was and still is not an easy lesson.
God Doesn’t Need Me
God doesn’t need me to accomplish anything He has planned, but He does want me to be there, walking with Him and learning from Him. It is naïve and childish to think that God won’t do something just because I throw a (thirty)-two year old temper tantrum about it. But, life is better when you walk with God instead of against Him. He is GOD. He doesn’t need me to do diddly, but He wants me to do so much more than I could ever imagine.
There is Peace in Unlikely Places
When it seems like the battles are too hard to fight, it’s funny where peace can be found. For me, I found peace in my job – a job that is crazy, hectic, exhausting and frustrating at any given moment. I found peace in a place where God was everywhere, but I still had a task to accomplish. I found peace in my to-do lists. That may seem silly, but having a purpose gave the cloudy skies a little sunshine. Wherever you can find your peace, go there. And, don’t be surprised when that peaceful place changes on a regular basis.
Not Talking about it is Okay
One of the reasons I stopped blogging and became somewhat quiet in the world was because I was learning this lesson. I want to share everything when I am hurting – but maybe that is not the most helpful approach in the world. Instead of sharing everything with everyone, I shared a little with a few people. And a little with a few more people. And a lot with a handful of people that had walked these roads before. Not talking was a hard lesson, but it gave me an honest perspective on my world and my place in God’s bigger plan.
Joy is a Choice
This was a big one for me. I learned in 2011 that having a joyful heart and a joyful outlook on life was a choice I had to make myself. It is not an inherent part of my DNA – I could give Eeyore a run for his money on any given day – but choosing to find happiness and joy in life made me realize that everything – big or little, good or bad – was being done for a purpose, and there should be joy in the journey. That doesn’t mean every day has to be happy, but there can still be a deeper sense of joy in the God who wouldn’t give us floods if He hadn’t also promised rainbows.
I could go on and on, but that’s just a little of why I was quiet and why 2011 was different for me in so many ways. I am excited to face 2012, and am hoping that these lessons aren’t ones I have to relearn!
To prepare this coffee, carefully open this outer wrap. Place the pre-measured filter pouch in the brewing basket. Then follow the directions on your coffee maker. Savor this moment.
I read these exact instructions for making coffee and it was as though God said to me:
In order to be useful tool for Me (To prepare this coffee), get rid of any trash (sin) in your life (carefully open this outer wrap). Take everything that I have given you (your life, your personality, your family, your friends, your desires, your dreams, your talents) and put them all on the alter as an offering to Me(Place the pre-measured filter pouch in the brewing basket). Finally, follow your Maker's directions--obey(Then follow the directions on your coffee maker).
Just as steaming hot water poured through dark, roasted grounds produces a rich, flavorful brew of coffee, living water poured down from heaven flowing through us will give the world a taste of God's riches above.
"The river of God is full of water; but not one drop of it flows from earthly springs." -Charles H Spurgeon
But the land that you are going over to possess is a land of hills and valleys, which drinks water by the rain from heaven. Deuteronomy 11:11 Jesus will flow through us when we are properly prepared. If a {woman} cleanses {herself}...{she} will be a vessel for noble purposes, made holy, useful to the Master and prepared to do any good work. 2 Timothy 2:21
And, of course, we must not forget to savor this moment!
You would think after having three kids (all of whom struggled emotionally when separated from their mommy) that I would give in to the notion that my kids have experienced some form of separation anxiety albeit mild or extreme. In oblivious denial, I recently faced the stark reality that my two-year old exhibited obvious signs of separation anxiety when, every time I left the room, he let out a blood curdling scream. Over and over as soon as I removed myself from his sight, the echos of a distraught little fellow resonated off our hallway walls. Before long, I marched my dignified, motherly-self right back to the place where the little rascal howled and I carefully spoke these words to my son, "Even when you can't see me, I'm still here, buddy." The frizzle-frazzled two-year old tantrum faded into the back of my mind and the gentle whisper of my loving Heavenly Father flooded into the forefront of my mind, "Even when you can't see me, I'm still here, child." At that moment, God made Himself clearly apparent; not just His existence but also His character. I suppose that the Psalmist was cognizant of this same truth about God when he penned the lyrics "...an ever-present help in trouble" (Psalms 46:1). EVER-PRESENT HELP. Yep, that just about says it.
Often in times we do not 'see' God, we throw a two year-old fit and howl out a faithless prayer like "Why aren't you here, God?" Instead of ignoring or reprimanding us, God remains true, faithful, present, EVER ready, and available to help us just like a mother would her child. We tend to experience separation anxiety when we think God's nearness is untouchable, but the truth of the matter is that He is ever-present and real and ready to help us in our time of need. Our only job is to trust Him and what He says is true.
Do you really believe what God says is true? If so, you can trust that He is real and present in your life. That truth alone relieves a little bit of anxiety, eh?
As I walked into the large, crowded room, the hot dawning sunlight warmed the rows and rows of small gray cots tightly packed together. On every scanty bed lay a woman. A human tragedy. A social disgust. An untouchable, good-riddance. Forgotten and sentenced to a horrid fate. Each solemn face bore the marks of shame and despair. Many ladies looked away, looked down, or bade to hide their curious glances upon my entrance into the putrid room. Just barely able to offer a warm smile, I made my way through the scores of women each residing in her personal chamber of death. To each woman I encountered, I spoke a simple, cheerful greeting and then proceeded to maneuver through the close living quarters.
I am not sure if it has been the passage of time or the shocking experience that has erased the names and faces I met on this particular summer day in India at Mother Theresa’s Death and Dying Institute, but I can only remember one woman - Alice.
She was sick. She was hurting. She clasped my hands ever so tightly. She smiled. Her eyes reached deep into her soul and shined the brightest I ever remembering seeing a person’s eyes shining. To my surprise, she spoke a little bit of English and she knew His name—Jesus. I loved her without reserve. I loved her despite of the way malnutrition had conquered her body; her upper thighs were nothing but skin and bone—measuring about the radius of my lower arm. The harshness of life had etched deep, telling lines into the skin that stretched across her gaunt face. To top it off, my new friend was unable to walk, move, or even clean herself. She was condemned to merely lay motionless.
As it so happened, our small missionary group arrived on the Institute’s bathing day. We worked for hours that morning washing all of the140 suffering women. For me, it was physically painful, sickening, and traumatic (and that is mildly put!). When it was my new friend’s turn to bathe, I insisted that I care for her. The icy cold water the caregivers sprayed on the women must have hurt because my friend tightly closed her eyes and tried to suppress groans of pain. The caregivers vigorously scrubbed her with a brushed that I would have used on a rugged animal at a zoo. As I watched the unfamiliar way of caring for outcasts of society, I could hardly breathe. At least someone takes care of them. Their families left them on the street to die, a voice of reason and justice echoed in my mind.
I lifted my friend and placed her on a hard wooden bench to dry her like a baby. She shut her eyes as though she could close out the pain and she lay so still that I thought she would die.
I will never forget her. I will never forget how much I cared for her. It was hard but I loved her.
Over the years since my short mission trip to India, I have easily adjusted to the ease and comforts of America, but there is one thing paradoxically easier in India than in America. For me, in India it was easier to love when it was hard to love and in America it is harder to love when it is easy to love. Confusing? Take for instance, in my American life as a regular homemaker I encounter needy people who are clean, mobile, fed, healthy, wealthy, and optimistic nevertheless they are needy. Shouldn’t it be easy to love them? Instead, I dig in my heels and demand my rights, my time, my desires, my dreams, my needs, my comforts, my health—all the things I sacrificed to love an objectionable outcast. What’s wrong with this picture?
Steven Curtis Chapman has an awesome new song called “Do Everything”; the lyrics say:
Well let me remind you, it all matters just as long
As you do everything you do to the glory of the One who made you,
Cause he made you,
To do
Every little thing that you do
To bring a smile to His face
Tell the story of grace
With every move that you make
And every little thing you do
So whether I am in India or in Indiana, I am to do EVERYTHING, easy or hard, in love.
He tends his flock like a shepherd: He gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to His heart; He gently leads those that have young.Isaiah 40:11
Really, I have nothing more to say. I keep reading this verse and what keeps coming to my mind is that I must share this with all the mamas! Take comfort, sweet moms! Jesus, our Shepherd, loves our little lambs. He actively cares for them and He even 'gently leads' us mothers, too! May this lovely truth bring peace of mind and increased trust in our Good God!
All because I let others define me. When they weighed my worth, the scale was always in their favor and I was viewed as a deficit. I never measured up. Trying to earn their love was like trying to lasso the moon. Futile, but I didn't know; I was just a child. So I kept slinging that rope---trying different tactics, different strategies, different angles---but, of course, nothing worked and never would. It was impossible, but I didn't know. I figured it was my fault when I was flogged after every failed attempt, so I kept trying harder and harder and harder to lasso that forever evasive moon. I needed to prove my love so I wouldn't be rejected by the love I thought I needed most. But I always failed. It was hopeless.
Thus I grew up feeling like a tumbledown barn---splintered on every side---about to implode, crumble and bury myself beneath moonbeams.
At some point we've all experienced the painful sword of rejection stabbing us with its brutal blade. (Some of us more than others.) Whether it's in the form of a pink slip, a returned ring, a failed grade, a deformity scoffed, a parent's neglect, a teacher's jab, a skipped promotion, an absent father, a sister's slander, a brother's betrayal, a vow broken, a cold shoulder, a belt's bruise, a schoolmate's snub, an abandoned bassinet, a barren womb...
Maybe an alcoholic, workaholic or rageaholic raised you... Or perhaps your sister was the talented, pretty and scholarly one... Maybe your bank account, square footage or Friend's List didn't tally up...
Rejection, in whatever form, chops a heart like ax to log.
Satan's deepest wound is rejection's arrow piercing our heart. Because he was ostracized from Heaven and knows his reign on earth is short term, his goal is to project his rejection onto mankind as fervently as he can, while he can. Especially women. Why? Because we by nature are nurturing. If he can wound life bearers, causing them to reject their offspring, then generations upon generations will be limping on crutches forever scarred. Meanwhile, Satan will hammock swing, sip his Red Devil and revel in all the chaos he created.
Satan thrives on chaos.
I love the show Extreme Makeover Home Edition where designers perform jaw-dropping makeovers on someone's outdated home. As an artist myself, I love taking something old and transforming it into something new. It's more valuable to me than any tagged item for sale at Macy's. Mainly because I can patiently and lovingly restore it or possibly increase its original value. For example...
Does this wicker furniture look beautiful to you? Does it appear valuable? Is it still useful? Or should it be overlooked, forsaken and tossed in a junkyard?
What about now?
Before I purchased this shabby-looking furniture, I noticed the label and discovered this is a Henry Lane, quality, built-to-last brand of wicker furniture. After realizing its value outweighed the asking price---and envisioning its beautiful transformation after a few coats of paint, new upholstery and a little TLC---I snatched it up without hesitation.
Do you realize your own value, worth and beauty? Do you look in the mirror and see shabby, dirty and discarded or Priceless, Perfect and Precious?
Do you see beautiful?
What label are you wearing?
Is it time for a wardrobe change? Is it time to adjust the aperture on your heart's lens? Is it time to rebuild the barn?
If you don't know how let the Master Carpenter show you.
Notice I started this post with 'I USED to feel unwanted, unloved and unworthy.' REJECTED. But now? Now I feel Priceless, Perfect and Precious because God says I am.
The opposite of rejection is acceptance. How do we move from feelings of rejection to the joy of acceptance? We accept God's overwhelming love for us.
Satan can try to force feed me his poisonous lies---pointing out all my failures, flaws and faux pas---but I refuse to swallow. I only focus and feast on the truth now. The truth that tells me: You knit me together... I am fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14). I am a precious jewel (Malachi 3:17). Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, [she] is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come! (2 Corinthians 5:17).
I absolutely, without a doubt, am a new creation because of Him!
Let's shed, scorn and scorch old junkyard duds and worn out labels of 'unwanted, unloved and unworthy' and clothe ourselves, instead, in our Designer's truth. We are Priceless, Perfect and Precious. God says we are because of Jesus and our faith in Him. We may not always feel it, but that's OK. Our feelings may change, but the facts don't and never will. The truth is the truth.
Never again will you be called 'The Forsaken City' or 'The Desolate Land.' Your new name will be 'The City of God's Delight' and 'The Bride of God,' for the Lord delights in you and will claim you as His bride (Isaiah 62:4)
Thank you, Lord, for your truth, which counteracts lies and restores broken hearts to wholeness.
Thank you for your transformation.
Thank you for your restoration.
Thank you for your beautification.
I'm sure the rejection I endured growing up made me the compassionate, sympathetic and loving person I am today.
If for that fact alone, I am grateful.
Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you (1 Peter 5:7).
Although my father and my mother have forsaken me, yet the Lord will take me up and adopt me as His child (Psalm 27:10).
Keep me as the apple of Your eye, hide me in the shadow or Your wings (Psalm 17:8).
To everyone who has faced the death of a loved one or fears losing someone you love:
When Corrie Ten Boom was a little girl she cried to her father about how she did not want him to ever die. Her father replied, "Corrie..when you and I go to Amsterdam--when do I give you your ticket?"
Corrie Ten Boom thought about it and then answered, "Just before we get on the train."
Her father wisely explained, "Exactly. And our wise Father in heaven knows when we are going to need things, too. Don't run out ahead of him, Corrie. When the time comes that some of us will have to die, you will look into your heart and find the strength you need--just in time" (The Hiding Place by Corrie Ten Boom).
There is hope:
On this mountain He will destroy the shroud that enfolds all peoples, the sheet that covers all nations; He will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces; He will remove the disgrace of His people from all the earth. The LORD has spoken. Isaiah 25:7-8
I kicked my crampons into the steep slope and clung to the embedded ice axe. Leaning forward to catch my breath, my heart thudded in my ears. I chanced a disheartening glance upwards and wondered if Mt Baker continued indefinitely higher; its crown the very floor of heaven. I wondered at the seeming boundless energy that I had enjoyed just twenty-four hours earlier. Fearfully, I wondered if there was any strength left to place another step toward the elusive summit.
It was about 2:30 AM that Saturday morning in June when the five of us hefted our packs and set out at the Heliotrope Ridge trail-head. Tiny snow flakes swirled sparkling in the beams of our headlamps as we started through the forest. Just one hundred yards into the trek, however, we came to an impasse. Deep snow banks engulfed the trail; we were supposed to cross a bridge but could not even see the river. GPS was consulted and we decided to hike up the snow-covered river. An hour later, we reached the avalanche chute: a steep climb that brought us out of the valley and onto the mountain.
Heavy fog set in as the sun rose and we were shrouded in a world of white. There was no mountain, no up or down, cliffs or crags. All was indistinct and measureless in the frozen mist. We hiked solely by the direction of the compass and GPS, discouraged that the river valley led us onto the mountain so far from the intended path. Despite the set-back, the experience was exciting to me as I anticipated the reward at the end of our efforts. Meanwhile, I got to dig out my first-aid kit and pad a few blistered feet while we were resting on a ridge. And the duct tape came in handy in patching a glove.
We spent the morning navigating our way through white nothingness to where the GPS indicated Coleman Glacier to be. We roped up and hiked past the crevasse-risk area. By 2 PM, my legs were burning, eyelids heavy. To the team's relief and delight, the veil of mist lifted to reveal Mt Baker's craggy face. We set up camp at the 7500' level; we could see teams, like ants, busily setting up their tents on the glacier below. The sunshine and vistas were immensely rewarding as we rested and rehydrated.
I slept for a few hours in the tent, then woke with Bethany and Katie in time to enjoy the last of the sun's warm golden light as it sunk into a frosty horizon.
Michael and Daniel gave the 1 AM wake-up call. All I recall was feeling acutely cold. My toes were numb, and to my chagrin, the inner liners of my boots were frozen, despite spending the night in my sleeping bag. Everything outside was covered with a new frosting of snow; it was beautiful, but the cold made my fingers cumbersome when lacing up boots and tying on crampons. We roped up and started hiking toward the infamous Roman Wall.
The sunrise was slow and spectacular above the fading lights of Bellingham. I enjoyed the steady rhythm of our ascent, the grippy feel of the crampons as they bit into icy slope with each step. Inhaling the clear crisp air, I enjoyed the silence of the morning. In the darkness, it felt like it was just God and me, and in that moment I loved the challenge and beauty His creation presented.
We periodically stopped for breaks, but inside I just wanted to press on, to get to the top. "This is do-able. The summit is so close," I thought.
My adrenaline suddenly wore off mid-way through the final push. The last 900' elevation gain was at a steep climb, and suddenly I wished that I had taken better advantage of our breaks. Crevasse-footed cliffs angled off on either side of our narrowing trail. The scent of sulfur saturated the air and reminded me that I was ascending an active volcano. As the morning sun climbed in the sky, the snow became more soft. Each step took focus to maintain traction with the mountain.
It was at this point, at the end of myself, that I recognized my utter insufficiency. Asking Jesus for help, I appreciated comparisons between the Christian life and ascending a mountain. Placing one foot in front of the other, I considered what God would have me learn.
The first lesson I felt acutely: Enjoy the opportunity to rest when God gives it. I had been feeling a bit guilty about the ease of my American life in contrast with how it had been in Sudan. But that was wrong. God gives seasons of life and its important to take the time to regenerate spiritually and physically. Best of all, God wants us to cease striving and simply enjoy fellowship with Him; "Be still and know that I am God," (Psalm 46:10); "He restores my soul," Psalm 23:3.
Just as Paul alluded to running a race, life is spent on the uphill journey. He warns Christians to "lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus..." (Hebrews 12: 1-2). I thought how easily my Droid and my agenda distract my focus from godliness. Thinking about the mountain climb, I was glad to leave behind camping supplies for the final ascent; how much easier it was to have less to carry that day. Likewise, God wants me to hike this life un-encumbered by sin.
Thirdly, the GPS was essential to the success of our ascent. Despite our eyes playing tricks on us in the white mist, the GPS knew our coordinates, the compass kept our direction. Likewise, I need to trust God for my direction, not how I feel about something. Proverbs 28:26 states, "He who trusts in his own heart is a fool, but whoever walks wisely will be delivered." Also, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct your paths," (Proverbs 3:5-6).
Like gearing up for a climb, its also important to count the cost of following Jesus, and to prepare accordingly. I was reminded of the armor of God described in Ephesians 6, and to "be strong in the Lord."
At about this point in my reflections we crested the summit. After chugging down all the water that I could get, it felt great just to soak in the spectacular panorama that surrounded Mt Baker and marvel at God's dangerously beautiful creation.
Like the enchanted sleep the three good fairies sprinkled over the kingdom in Sleeping Beauty, every day I have been feeling the grueling effects of fatigue sweep over me. "I'm just so tired!" I complained to a friend. She shared a simple story she had recently read about Corrie Ten Boom who found herself waking up in the morning to an overwhelming fatigue, even after sleeping the night before. After she noticed this pattern of weariness, someone shared with Corrie Ten Boom that the Enemy wanted nothing more than to steal away her energy and leave her ineffective for the work of the Lord. She was encouraged her to pray every time she felt tired--pray that God would give her energy and strength to do the work He wanted her to do. Interestingly, every time Corrie Ten Boom prayed, the fatigued lifted and she was able to do what God wanted her to do that day.
After listening to my friend retell Corrie Ten Boom's experience, it has occurred to me that my tiredness may be keeping me from doing the Lord's work--even if God's work for me is right here in my little home with my little family. That deceptive Devil is using witty schemes--illusions, a whole bunch of lies that are only in my head. So if I resign myself to the notion that I am tired and then make excuses for unproductive activity, I may be allowing the Enemy to steal from me the joy of participating in the work of the Lord.
Friend, don't be deceived! Pray! Pray for each other! Encourage each other!
"What wings are to a bird, and sails to a ship, so is prayer to the soul." ~Corrie Ten Boom
And no wonder, for Satan himself masquerades as an angel of light.
2 Corinthians 11:14
But encourage one another daily, as long as it is called today, so that none of you may be hardened by sin's deceitfulness.
Hebrews 3:13
Let us encourage each other to watch out for the lies that only steal, kill, and destroy us and let us turn to God for the victory in our lives!
The prayer of a righteous {woman} is powerful and effective.
