Eternally Engaged

"All that is not eternal is eternally useless." 

CS Lewis

I wonder how different my life would look if I truly believed those words.  To think that there are energies I am devoting myself to that matter nothing for eternity breaks my heart. I'm sure it breaks the heart of the Father even more.  How He must watch the activities I engage in on a daily basis that further my kingdom instead of His, with a sadness for all that I am missing.  

Because it's really me that's missing something--not Him.  His Kingdom is still going forth with just as much force and validity and power as ever, I'm just the one who has stepped out of the march to pursue worthless things.  And I'm the one missing the power that is ushering forth His Kingdom.

For the Kingdom of God does not consist in talk but in power.

(1 Corinthians 4:20)

Dead men are raised to life. Blind see. Deaf hear. The crippled walk.  Good news is preached to all.  Lives are changed. Orphans are introduced to the Father of the fatherless. Broken people are restored. 

And really?  All that power and I'd rather spend my time doing frivolous things?   Or worse--I'd rather think that I'm engaged in the beauty of the Kingdom by merely talking about it all the time?  

There's so much more to the Kingdom to that.  And I want to see it.  To hear it, to reach out and touch it.  

And there's so many areas where the Kingdom needs to be preached.  Places where the depth of darkness seems unbearable.  

Sex-trafficking. 

Underdeveloped countries without clean water. 

Orphans with no hope and no future. 

People who don't know from where their next meal will come. 

Those completely isolated from hearing the Good News of Jesus Christ. 

My neighbors who think this life is all there is.

All these opportunities, waiting for the power of the Kingdom to come and overwhelm them.  The keys to which I hold in my hand.  And so often I choose the lesser things.  Things that are eternally useless. 

But the most amazing thing to me is that He knew that I would do that.  He knew that when He chose to use imperfect people to bring forth His Kingdom here on earth, that we would often neglect the most important thing.  That we would chose things that don't matter over the only thing that really matters. And yet, He still chose us to be the means He would use.  

So...yes I am the one who is missing out when I choose the things of this world over things of eternal significance.  But, there's grace to cover those attitudes of apathy and a God who uses the weak and foolish of the world to display His strength and wisdom.  And that God has invited me to be part of the great Rescue Mission that He is carrying out. It's the greatest rescue ever carried out and victory is already secured. 

So, I am left with this choice--give away my life to gain it?  Or gain the whole world and forfeit my soul? 

What Half a Life of Parkinson's Disease has taught me about God

I still remember the many dark, tear-filled nights of confusion and despair.  At 12 years old, I didn't understand what the announcement really meant.  I just knew it wasn't good and that somehow it changed life as I knew it, forever.

I was in Junior High, an already awkward phase of life.  There was many things I didn't understand at the time--like boys, friendships, algebra, the way my body was changing. With the addition of my 4 cousins and aunt, we had 5 extra people living under the same roof .  My favorite dog and beloved pony both died.  And now this.  This news that kept haunting me, though I didn't even fully understand what it meant.

"Your mother has Parkinson's Disease."  My dad's calm tone helped ease the sting, but only slightly.

I knew something wasn't right over the past few months.  My mom just wasn't herself.  And now doctors and second opinions had affirmed the news that months of speculation had feared.

This year marks 12 years since my mom was diagnosed with Parkinson's and thus means my mom has had the disease for half of my life.  I've known my mom with Parkinson's as long as I knew her without.   And, since the early years of life aren't remembered very clearly, it's safe to say that she has had Parkinson's in the majority of my memories with her.

When I think about that year in my life, a dark and gloomy cloud still hangs over most of what I remember.  And yet, in the years since then, streams of sunlight have broken through as I can trace God's faithful hand over each and every detail.  Through Parkinson's Disease, He has taught me lessons that I'm not sure I could learn any other way.  I still wish that my mom didn't have to go through what she does every single day; but, it's what God has chosen for her and for our family, so we accept it--even if it's sometimes through tears. Here are some of the lessons He's taught me:

1)  He is all I have. As a junior higher, everything around me was changing and nothing was reliable.  My mom was the most sure and constant thing in my life.  Or so I thought.  She was there every morning when I woke up and every day when I came home.  She was the only person I told everything and was the shoulder to cry on when my friends let me down or when I didn't do well on a test.  Yet, she was still human.  God used her being diagnosed with Parkinson's to show me that He alone needed to be my refuge and hope and sure foundation.  The news rocked my world in such a real way, mostly because it reminded me that my mom wouldn't last forever.  She couldn't meet my every need; she was never meant to.  Only the God of the universe could do that; and He had stepped into a broken world to be everything I would ever need. 

2) There is more. This world is broken and it's passing away.  Seeing the frailty of my mom's previously healthy and strong body caused me to look forward to the hope of new bodies in heaven.  And more than new bodies, the new life that awaits us; a life without brokenness and disease and all the damaging effects of sin.  I long for that day for my mom.  I long for that day for all of humanity.  The day when we will know fully what we were created for; that which sin stole in the Garden, that which God became man to win back for us. And somehow, it will be even more beautiful for having once been so broken.  Knowing what life in perfect unity with God is like will be understood so much more richly for having once been a stranger to that unity.  When my mom has a renewed body, she will appreciate it so much more for once walking in a body tormented by disease. 

3) Life is a vapor. Though it's true with or without Parkinson's, the disease is a reminder that I don't know how long I will have my mom.  The thought of not having her here on my wedding day or to meet my kids someday frightens me.  But, I am not called to worry about those things.  She is here today.  And none of us are guaranteed tomorrow.  I have learned to embrace the today that I have with my mom and with others and to see each moment that is given from the hand of God as an undeserved gift.

4) He teaches through affliction what we cannot learn through mercies.  I was first confronted with this idea in an Ann Judson biography.  There are things that I truly cannot learn apart from pain and affliction.  For example, I have experienced the comfort of God in ways that I never could have experienced without the pain of Parkinson's disease.  I have experienced an aching for heaven that I would never know without the discomfort the disease has brought.  I have grown to love and cling to the promises of God in ways that I never would have without being desperate for them.

5) He is compassionate and merciful.  James 5:11 has become a favorite verse of me over the past couple of years.  It says that in the story of Job, we see the purpose of the Lord--that He is compassionate and merciful.   When I first read it, I was just confused.  I could think of a million other adjectives to describe God's purpose through Job's story before the words "compassionate" and "merciful" would come to mind.  But, as I've reflected on this journey our family has taken with Parkinson's Disease, I have come to understand the purpose of the Lord in deeper ways, ways that point so powerfully to His compassion and mercy.  He is compassionate and merciful to bring us to a place of groaning in these earthly tents so that we're always longing for Home.  He is compassionate and merciful to allow us to walk through pain so that we can share with Him in His suffering.  He is compassionate and merciful to let us experience discomfort so that we can know the depth of comfort that He alone can offer us.  He is compassionate and merciful to look past our desperate groaning to be removed from our difficult circumstances, knowing that He is producing in us something infinitely more valuable than we could ever imagine--becoming more like Him.  He sees our pain, He bears it with us, and yet He allows it to continue because His ultimate goal for us is our holiness, not our momentary happiness. What a compassionate and merciful God.

God is writing a beautiful story that started before the foundation of the world and will continue for all eternity.  And He uses every hurt and pain and disappointment for the good of His ultimate purpose.  Parkinson's Disease isn't outside of His control.  It's part of His plan, not just for my mom and our family, but for the bigger story He's writing--the story of redeeming the world that has been broken by sin.  One day, Parkinson's disease will be no more.  One day, the tears that this disease and so many others have caused will be wiped away, forever.  One day, it will all be made right.  And the memories of all this earthly pain will serve as a reminder of just how much Christ won for us on the cross.  And we will worship Him forever because of it.

All Good Things Must Come to an End

At least here on earth.

You know those things you look forward to with anticipation for days/weeks/months, then the moment finally arrives and passes far too quickly?  For me, spending time with my family is that type of feeling.  Having 3 siblings, each married with their own family, it's difficult to get all of us in the same place.  So, when we do--it's a special treat.  I want to soak it all in.  But, then it's over and everyone goes back to their respective jobs, responsibilities, life as we know it.

One moment the house is full and loud and filled with chaos, the next--silent.

And then that reminder comes that the good things in this life, given to us as gifts to be enjoyed from the hand of the Father, are temporary.  And though they are good gifts, they aren't the end in themselves.  They are means to the end of pointing us to the Giver of those gifts.  They are to point us to the good things He has in store for us for all eternity--things that will never come to an end.

 But, in the meantime, I'll take those moments--as quickly as they seem to pass.  Here are some of those moments from the past few days with everyone in one place.

Little Brooklyn LOVED the dogs.

The girls loved our time eating (and chatting, of course)

The classic, impromptu "Quick, before everyone leaves" family picture

The "older" kids loved their time hanging out, being the cool kids they are

All the grand kids in one place!

There you have it!  A glimpse into the Klopfenstein family Christmas gathering. The good news is that, for those who are old enough, everyone in our family has been saved by Jesus and we'll get to spend all eternity worshiping Him together.  Now, THAT is a gathering to look forward to!

I think this needs a frame in my house

Remember that you have only one soul; 

that you have only one death to die; 

that you have only one life, which is short and has to be lived by you alone; 

and that there is only one glory, which is eternal.  

If you do this, there will be many things about which you care nothing.

-Teresa of Avila

(as quoted in "No Longer a Slumdog")

 

My easily-distracted heart and mind really needed to read that.  And, knowing how prone I am to quickly forget the only things that really matter, I think I need to frame it and put it some place where I can read it often. 

What Remains True after 6 months of Grieving

Today marks 6 months since Mary passed away.  6 months since she entered the presence of God.  Thinking about it in those terms seems so much sweeter.

For us, it's been 6 months of stumbling through each day, crying in the moments where it seems too hard to bear, trying to figure out how to pick up from here with her gone.

But, for her....every day, she is amazed again as she sees before her very eyes the God of the universe.  Every moment, her heart is filled with inexpressible joy as she stands in the presence of her Savior.  Her faith has become sight and she is well.  She's been there 6 whole months and nothing about it is "getting old."  Nothing about it seems too familiar to be amazed.  She's never once wished she could come back to earth, even on the days we'd give anything to have her back.

Her kids started a new school year this week without their mom.  I really cannot imagine what that is like--back to school shopping without mom, new teachers and friends without mom, another season of life without mom.  My heart truly hurts for those boys.

But, I have to cling to this hope in the midst of it: there is more.  There is more than what is seen, more than the pain that lingers and weighs heavily even after 6 months, more than 2 kids trying to get by without their mom.  There is a God who loves those boys more than any person ever could--even Mary. He is still on His throne and He's pointing us to our Home beyond this earth.

I think if Mary could talk to us on days like today--ones where we relive every painful, nightmarish moment leading up to her leaving this earth; ones where we are reminded that this isn't just going to "go away"--she'd say something like this:  It's going to be okay.  I know it hurts and I know that you wish you could change things or somehow see the end of this story.  But, please know that this God is everything He says He is.  He really does love His children more than you could ever imagine and He really does work all things together for good in the end.  Don't give up.  It's worth every second of pain and suffering when you see what He's prepared for those who love Him, when you see Him.  

So, that hope gets me through days like today.  I know it will be worth it in the end--for her boys, for her sisters, for her friends, for every single person affected by this, and for the sake of the Kingdom for all eternity.  It isn't just "okay" or "tolerable."  It is best.  And even after 6 months of wrestling through questions and coming up short on answers, I still believe that with all of my heart.  Mary not only believes that from a distance, but sees it day in and day out.  And someday we will too. I don't know exactly what that day will be like.  But, I imagine it will be something like what Steven Curtis Chapman says:

Though this first taste is bitter

There will be sweetness forever

When we finally taste and see

That Our God is in control

And we’ll sing

Holy Holy Holy is in our God

And we will finally really understand what it means

So we’ll sing

Holy Holy Holy is our God

While we’re waiting for that day

Sorrowful Rejoicing

The reality of the broken world in which we live has been increasingly evident to me the past few weeks.  In fact, it seems that the older I get, the more I see the fallen state of this world.

I hear more and more stories of pain and suffering and death and disease in the lives of others; stories that simply make no sense and realities that are hard to swallow.

News reports become more grotesque and hard to believe (i.e. the story of what has happened in Norway recently).

I see the damaging effects of sin in relationships and the extent of sin that is present in people (myself included).

I know many who are in blatant sin and rebellion and completely blinded to their selfishness and I know even more (again, myself included) who are trying to call people out of that sin and rebellion and selfishness to no avail. 

Even as I write this, I am holding back tears that have seemed to be more readily flowing lately.  These instances just keep pouring in.  Life is just really difficult sometimes.

And yet, in the midst of all of this, I am realizing that the older I get, the more I long for my Home.  These stories point me to the reality of eternity in ways that nothing else can.

I ache for the day when all these wrongs will be made right.

I cling to the hope that someday, pain will be erased and joy will be complete, perfect, and unending.  

And so, in the midst of the pain and discomfort and sorrow, I rejoice.

I rejoice because the things of this world are not ultimate. They are fleeting.  They will soon pass and will usher in an inexpressible beauty and peace that can't even be imagined this side of heaven.  And if I didn't feel the results of sin in such a real and present sense here on earth, I wonder that I would be able to fully love and appreciate and delight in what awaits.

I am realizing that maybe those things which are the most painful to bear, the most disheartening, are the very things that my Savior uses to remind me of all that He has won for all of eternity.  They are the ever-present reminders that there is something more.

 And so, these things become not just burdens to bear, but the very things in which I rejoice. They remind me that though I live in this world at present, my citizenship--my home--lies in the place I was created for, a place that will make every second of suffering more than worth it; a place that will make this very real and evident pain pale in comparison to the joy of eternity with our Savior that is set before us.

It's a sorrowful, beautiful, painful, devastating kind of rejoicing. And it's just another evidence of the great paradox those of us who are in Christ live in--who live in a broken and hurting world, and yet who live for an eternal and perfect Kingdom and the King who is still on His throne in the midst of it all.

"We are...as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold, we live; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything. " 2 Corinthians 6:10

Someday

It's just been one of those days.  You know, the ones where you wish you could just crawl back into bed, escape the world, pretend like reality isn't really what it seems, maybe shed a few tears in the middle of all that?

For those of you who don't know about my latest adventure, it's been the most....(for lack of a better word) mixed....experience of my life.  Devastating.  Hopeful.  Unspeakably difficult.  Incredibly rewarding. Exhausting. And even more emotions than I really know how to express.  Sometimes it's all of these emotions within the same 5 minutes.

I am the "nanny" for Mary's kids.  {For the record, I hate the word "nanny."  It sounds so impersonal to me. But, that's not what I'm here to write about.  Not today anyway. :) }

Every day, I look into the faces of two boys who just lost their mom.  Not a moment goes by that I don't think of Mary, miss her, and ache for eternity.  Most days, we go through our routine, the "new normal."  It's never easy.  But some days--like today--that pain is even deeper and more prevalent.  The Lord has been gracious and has proven faithful in giving me exactly what I need to face each day.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  But some days, the tears are harder to hold back than usual.  I mean, what do you say to a 7-year-old who is crying, saying "I miss mommy"?  How do you let a junior high boy know that it's okay to cry? 

I have so many questions.  Almost all of them are unanswered.  Why did Mary have to suffer as she did?  Why did she have to die so young with two kids who need her?  What does God have planned for her kids?  Who will they become and how is God going to use this in their story? Will it end with their hearts being bitter towards Him?  Or will they someday say, "God is enough.  He is good.  His plans for my life are good. I will follow Him to the very end."

Over and over again, God reminds me that these things take time.  I don't know what the end of this story looks like.  But I know it's not over.  And I have full confidence that all of it will not be wasted in the hands of a sovereign and loving God.  He has a purpose that cannot be thwarted and I have to believe that even when it's difficult to feel it.


The following lyrics are from Nichole Nordeman's song "Someday."  It's pretty much where I'm at right now:

I believe in the rest of the story
I believe there's still ink in the pen
I have wasted my very last day
Trying to change what happened way back when

I believe it's the human condition
We all need to have answers to why
More than ever, I'm ready to say that I
Will still sleep peacefully
With answers out of reach from me until

Someday all that's crazy
All that's unexplained
Will fall into place
And someday all that's hazy
Through a clouded glass
Will be clear at last
And sometimes we're just waiting
For someday

We are born with a lingering hunger
We are born to be unsatisfied
We are strangers who can't help but wander
And dream about the other side of

Someday all that's crazy
All that's unexplained
Will fall into place
And someday all that's hazy
Through a clouded glass
Will be clear at last
And sometimes we're just waiting
For someday

Every puzzle's missing piece
Every unsolved mystery
More than half of every whole
Rests in the Hands that hold you for someday

Today, I'm just waiting for Someday.  But I know it's coming.  That's the beauty of it all.  Because of  what Jesus has done on my behalf, I know that Someday is coming.  The day when I will see the fullness of God's plan.  The day when I will see clearly the end from the start.  The day when questions won't even matter anymore because I will be standing before Him, seeing just how good and beautiful He is.  My faith shall become sight and I won't have to fumble in the darkness of uncertainty any longer.  I long for that day with everything in me. If I didn't have the assurance that Someday was coming, I don't know how I could face today.  But the hope I have in knowing it's coming changes everything.

So...bring it on, temporary life!  You are quickly fading, but what awaits far outweighs every tear and seemingly unbearable moment.  You may have me for 70, 80, even 90 years, but Jesus has me for eternity. And all you can try to rob me of here can't take away what I already have in Him forever.

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us." Romans 8:18

What God has taught by Afflictions

The past few months/weeks/days have brought pain and joy, defeats and victories, and an overall sense of hopeful mourning that is difficult to describe.  But I want to try to put into words what this season of grieving has taught me because our gracious God has not wasted the pain.  Ann Judson said it well: "God has taught us by afflictions what we would not learn by mercies."  The lessons that I am learning (still in the present tense) couldn't be learned any other way.

First, Mary's death has brought me to a deeper level of worship before God; a level that is difficult to put into words.  It's this tension in my heart of hurting so badly that I want to scream, and yet in the midst of that, knowing that the God of the universe is wise enough to use this inexpressible pain for good.  Really, Lord?  You are wise enough to take away a young mom from her kids and have that be what is best?  He has brought me to the realization that when He does things that don't make sense to me--even if they're painful--He is even more worthy of praise because He is a God who can use even pain and suffering for good.  The deep assurance my heart has when I think about that is overwhelming; wow--that is the God that loves me and has pursued me and won my heart.  He is that mighty and good and wise.  He loves His children enough to see them go through heart-wrenching pain to accomplish His purposes in their lives.  And along with this, I have seen how vital it is to base my understanding of who God is in Scripture, not on circumstances.  If I were to try to describe God based on what's happening right now, I wouldn't believe that He is good and wise and loving; but, because I already know that He is those things based on what the unchanging Truth of his Word tells me, I am brought to an even deeper sense of worship because I know that He is who He says He is even in the midst of this life-shattering suffering.

Second, I have seen the comfort of God in ways that I never would have seen without the circumstances before me.  It's not merely the comfort that He's provided for my heart--though that has been evident--it is the comfort I've seen him bring to those hurting the most.  I've seen Him comfort Mary's kids and husband and my sister in ways that are inexpressible.  To sit next to a seven-year-old that has just lost his mom as he tells you that, yes it is painful and difficult, but that God has given him help to get through it is something that speaks volumes of God's character and faithfulness in ways that little else can.  I have seen 2 Corinthians 1:3-5 in more tangible ways than I could have ever imagined:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,

the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, 

who comforts us in all our affliction,

so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, 

with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 

For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings,

so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.

I love the last part of that passage--through Christ.  The only reason any of us are able to experience this comfort at all is because of the cross of Jesus Christ.  He suffered in the most brutal and horrific way imaginable so that when we experience suffering, we might be able to experience the most unimaginable comfort--a comfort that is directly from God himself; the God who created us and knows our hearts more intimately than we do comforts us in the ways we need it most during times when our hurt is greatest.

Finally, I can't express what a difference eternity makes; not only the promise that Mary is no longer hurting and is in the presence of her Savior, but the hope that this world isn't the end--there's a better, more perfect world to come where I can worship this good and worthy God free of sin, seeing Him clearly as He is, FOREVER.  Every single day as I look at Mary's kids, my heart breaks for them because their lives will never be the same; things will never get "back to normal."  Their mom isn't here and no matter how I look at it, that is difficult to swallow.  But, if I didn't have the promise of heaven and the knowledge that this life on earth is temporary, it would be impossible to move on from that point.  But, there is an end to the dark.  Heaven awaits.  And, as painful as this season is, I never want to lose this sense of desperation and urgency for eternity that has come through all of this.  Even if God grants me 90 years of life, my time here is a vapor compared to the eternal life in His presence that is to come.  And, as Mary's little seven-year-old prayed the other night, "Help me to go see Mommy in heaven soon," I want that to always be true; that no matter how much longer we are here on earth, the day when we meet our Savior face-to-face would seem "soon."    

Through afflictions, He's teaching me what I would never learn through mercies.  Does it still hurt?  More than I can express.  Would I rather learn these lessons some other way?  Absolutely.  Do I trust the wisdom and goodness of my Heavenly Father?  More deeply than I ever have before; I have no other option.  So, we cry and we grieve and we ache, but we have HOPE that runs deep and follow a God "with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change." (James 1:17)  He is good and loving in ALL that He does and He is enough.            

The Speech I never wanted to give

Below is the tribute I gave at Mary's funeral service yesterday. I would never wish for that day to come when it did, but am thankful that I got to speak in honor of someone so dear. I'm continuing to pray for those that were present (myself included) that Ecclesiastes 7:1-2 would be true in our hearts and lives in the coming days and weeks; that this day where death has been placed before us, the living would lay it to heart.

To say that it’s difficult to find the words to describe Mary is a harsh understatement.  Not because I don’t have enough to say, but because I still can’t wrap my mind around talking about her in the past tense.  But, I want to do my best to honor a woman who meant so much to my family and me.

I met Mary in 2002.  Brenden was in my nephew Zach’s kindergarten class.  Mary and my sister quickly became best friends and along with that, our family quickly inherited a new sister and daughter.  She was at all of our family gatherings, birthday parties, and celebrations.  It’s hard to remember a time when she wasn’t part of our family.  I have so many sweet memories with Mary, but hands-down my favorite is when Mary entered our family in a new and even deeper sense—Mary accepted Jesus Christ as her personal Savior and entered the family of God. I still remember the phone call from Wendy, telling me the news.  We both cried, screamed, and jumped up and down, rejoicing with all of heaven that we had a new family member. Once she became our sister in Christ, our relationship with her was even sweeter, deeper and more full.

Mary wasted no time in growing deeper in her new relationship with God.  I remember so many conversations with her—asking how to read the Bible, how to overcome sin, how to share her faith with those around her, including her husband and kids so that they too could know the hope she had.  Once she committed her life to following Jesus Christ, there was no turning back.

Next came the phone call telling us that Butch had surrendered his life to Christ as well.  We were stunned at what God was doing in this family’s life and that we got to have a front row seat, watching it all unfold.

To say that it was all just a walk in the park from that point on would be a lie.  Butch, Mary and the kids still experienced difficulty and still had struggles.  What was different was that all those struggles now had a purpose and Butch and Mary had a solid rock and firm foundation to stand on in the midst of their difficulties.

When Nik was diagnosed with Diabetes, Mary admitted it was difficult, but without hesitation said, “Well, I’ve been praying for a way to get closer to God.  This isn’t what I was expecting, but it’s working!”

Next, came the news that none of us were expecting or could have ever been prepared for.  I still remember the exact place I was standing when I talked to Butch on the phone as he told me Mary was in the hospital and that the doctors had found a mass in her esophagus.  I didn’t know what to do other than sit by her side and cry with her.  The day it was confirmed to be cancer, I spent the day sitting next to Mary’s hospital bed, praying with her, crying with her, holding her hand.  Mary was in shock, but she hadn’t lost her sense of humor.  The Yankees were playing that day and they lost.  Without skipping a beat, Mary said with irritation, “The Yankees lost AND I have cancer?!  Will this day get any worse?”

That day was just the beginning of a painful journey that Mary and her family had to walk down.  I would be lying if I said I never questioned the wisdom of God in the process.  Nothing about it seemed fair or that any good could come from all the pain.  As I stand here today, I still have unanswered questions and no explanations as to why Mary had to experience what she did, or why her husband and kids have to pick up from here without her.  It hurts and is clouded with confusion, fear, and uncertainty.

But, there are a few things that I know to be true regardless of circumstances, and I am clinging to these promises with everything in me:

1) Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever (Hebrews 13:8).  Though life has changed completely for Mary’s husband and kids, He has not changed.  He is constant and His promises sure.
2) His thoughts and ways are above ours.  Isaiah 55:8-9 says, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.”  Though we are taken by surprise, He is not.  Nothing happens outside His allowing it and even in these painful circumstances, He has a purpose and plan beyond what our limited minds can see or understand. He is still on his throne, reigning over all.
3) The moment Mary left this earth, she saw Jesus face to face.  He wiped every tear from her eyes and all earthly pain and suffering was erased.  For those who have come to Christ and accepted His forgiveness for sins, this eternal life with Him is a guarantee.
4) Mary has left her kids in the care of their Heavenly Father who loves them more than any of us ever could, even Mary.  He has promised that He will never leave or forsake them (Heb. 13:5) and He will meet their every need (Phil. 4:19)

My heart aches and the human part of me would do anything to have her back here.  But, I know she’s standing in the presence of her Creator and Savior and wouldn’t want to leave that place of indescribable beauty and perfect peace.  Someday, we’ll see her again and worship God with her.  But, until then, there are a few things I want to say to those for whom my heart is most burdened.

To Butch:  You don’t have to walk this alone.  Every person in this room is here as a support and comfort to you and the boys.  But, we will fail a time or two and that is why your Heavenly Father is holding your hand every step of the way, upholding you in a way none of us can.  Though it seems unbearable at times, He has promised to never give you more than you can handle and will give you supernatural strength when you feel most weak.  2 Corinthians 12:9 says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.”
To Brenden: I’ve watched you grow from a silly little Kindergartener to a mature young man who loves the Lord.  Keep seeking Him, running to Him with your fear and pain and know that you and Nik are just as much nephews to me as Zach. I think God has big plans for your life and I know that the unimaginable hurt you are feeling will not be wasted by Him.

To Nik: I still remember visiting the hospital when you were born and every time I’ve babysat you since.  I know you’re experiencing this hurt in a different way, but I’m praying you turn to Jesus to meet your every need, I know that’s what your mom wanted for you more than anything else.

To my sister Wendy: I know you’ve lost a friend in Mary that is irreplaceable.  I know your heart breaks as a mother.  I know it feels unbearable at times.  But, I know our God is big enough to mend your heart in time and I know He will use you to meet needs in the lives of Mary’s kids in ways that no one else can.  You have been a faithful and loving friend to Mary since day one.  God used you to bring Mary to Jesus Christ.  Without your influence in her life, this story would look entirely different.

To my nephew Zach: You have loved Brenden well.  You’ve cried with him, laughed with him and stood by his side as he’s faced the most difficult moments of his life.  The times I’ve had with you and Brenden in car rides to the hospital are times I will remember forever.  Brenden will need your friendship now more than ever and I can’t stop praising God enough for the maturity you both have for your young age.

To the rest of Mary’s friends and family:  I know you have all lost someone very dear to your heart, someone whose life changed yours.  I know that nothing would make Mary happier than to know that you will be with her again for eternity.  It’s never too late to admit your need for the forgiveness of Jesus Christ and surrender your life to Him.  Mary’s life was transformed by that forgiveness and yours can be too.  Mary will always be missed.  But, for those of us who know Christ, we can have full confidence that we will one day see her again.

Every one here today had the privilege of experiencing life with Mary in some way.  The pain we’re experiencing is a reminder that this world is not our home, we were created for another, better world, void of pain and suffering.  We eagerly await the day that Mary is experiencing as we speak—where we will be free of pain and standing in the presence of our Creator; where every wrong will be made right and the eternal weight of glory will far outweigh the hurt of this world.  Until that day, we will cling to Him, praising Him for those he places in our lives who give us a small glimpse of who He is—those like Mary McKarge.

Anchor of the Soul

So, it has been quite a while since I last wrote.  My last post was about Mary and this post will be about Mary.  So much has happened between now and then, but as I read over my last post, I realize there a few things that haven't changed--namely who God is.

Here's what changed in Mary's life--today she is at UCLA and nobody knows what is going to happen.  The cancer has spread, her lung has collapsed, she needs a miracle to survive.  Those words hurt to write.  I can't believe it's gotten to this point.  I'd be lying if I said I haven't ever looked to God and said, "Are you sure?  Is this really what's best?"  I "know' all the right answers.  I know God's ways are higher than our own.  I know that we deserve nothing from Him.  I know that the sting of death has been taken away in the cross of Jesus Christ and the pinnacle of suffering that He experienced.  I know those truths and I believe them with all of my heart.  But, it hurts.  So much.  It hurts seeing Mary in so much pain and discomfort, it hurts seeing her children worried about their Mom and if she'll make it, it hurts to see my sister wondering if she'll lose her best friend.  I hurt to see others around me hurting and grieving.  It's difficult to trust that having 2 young kids possibly lose their mom is really what is best.

And in the midst of all that pain and fear, I want to make it clear that I do not doubt God and who He is.  As crazy as this seems, there's this deep-rooted peace in knowing that this isn't the end.  The only hope I can possibly cling to right now is knowing that this life is but a vapor and the afflictions experienced here are momentary; even if it is a lifetime of suffering, it is momentary because heaven awaits. If I didn't have that hope, if I didn't have that assurance for Mary and her kids and her husband and my sister, I would have nothing right now.  Yes it still hurts, but it does not defeat.  It is still uncomfortable, but it is not unbearable.

In America, it is so easy to be comfortable.  It is so easy to pursue a life of ease--as long as everyone is healthy and happy and safe, we are good.  We avoid pain and discomfort and sacrifice because it just doesn't feel good.  But, that is not the life that Christ has called us to.

2 Corinthians 5:1-2 says, "For we know that if the tent, which is our earthly home, is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens.  For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling."


Sometimes, we don't even groan for heaven; in fact, we groan at the thought of having to leave this earth.  If we aren't longing for heaven because we're just fine here on earth, something is wrong.  Heaven isn't just the upgraded version of a cozy life here on earth, with even more TV shows and better food and comfortable beds.  But, if that is all our pursuit is on this earth, that's what heaven starts to become in our minds.  Instead, it's all about worshiping Jesus--both on the earth and in heaven.  He's the only reason we have breath in our lungs, the only reason our hearts are beating, the only One who can ultimately and completely satisfy. He's what our hearts were created to long for and adore and delight in.  When circumstances around us are uncomfortable, we are forced to come face-to-face with that reality.  

Here's what I do know right now--I long for heaven more in the face of difficulty and suffering than I ever could in the midst of comfort and ease.  I am reminded of the broken earth that I live on, the frailty of human life, my need for something and Someone greater than myself, my need for a hope to rest in that cannot be hindered by circumstances.

"We who have fled for refuge might have strong encouragement to hold fast to the hope set before us. We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul." Hebrews 6:18-19

This hope is all that holds me.  Nothing else is as sure and steadfast. Without it, I can hope for nothing better than an easy life on earth and when suffering comes into my life or the lives of those around me, I have nothing to cling to.  The question then becomes, not "Why does this suffering have to take place?" but instead, "Why would the God of the universe suffer the most agonizing death in all of human history so that I could have this hope?  Why would He do that for me, a lowly sinner?"

"Beloved, do not be surprised at the fiery trial when it comes upon you to test you, as though something strange were happening to you.  But rejoice insofar as you share Christ's sufferings, that you may also rejoice and be glad when his glory is revealed." 1 Peter 4:12-13

Rejoicing in a hope that is not of this world,
Emily

Lessons Learned Sitting by my Friend's Hospital Bed

Today after work I had the unique and awesome opportunity to drive my 13-year-old nephew and his best friend down to Santa Monica to see his friend's mom who was diagnosed with cancer 2 weeks ago.  I can't even begin to tell you how blessed I was to hang out with two 13-year-old boys.  They were hilarious, extremely kind and respectful, and above all love Jesus so so much.  They stand out far above any other Junior High boy I have ever met.  How low of a standard we've set for boys in calling a stage of life "adolescence" and expecting little to nothing more than dirty talk among them.  These guys are genuine and real and living for Christ and thinking deeply.  And they are 13.

When we got down to the hospital to see my dear, sweet friend Mary who is like a sister to me, and a daughter to my parents, it hit me.  These kids were experiencing life-shattering circumstances in their young lives; Situations that were causing them to turn to Jesus Christ as their Rock and Refuge and Hope.  Man, how that radiated out of them.  I sat on Mary's bed and we caught up on life while the boys sat in the corner and did their homework.  Suddenly, this had become everyday life for them.  2 weeks ago, this was unthinkable;  now, there's no other option.  I watched as they joked around together, laughed, helped each other with homework--they were living.  I really believe that without Jesus Christ, the story of Mary and her family today would look much different.  It would be void of hope and joy and a reason to keep going.  Because of Him, they have a story that has eternal implications.  I've already seen how everything that has happened in Mary's life has sprung up changes that never would have come without it.  Of course, I would NEVER wish that this would be God's way of bringing the changes needed.  But, this is the way He has wisely and lovingly chosen and because of that, I have confidence that He is accomplishing things through it that are far above all that we could ever ask or imagine.

In the last few weeks, I've spent more time next to the hospital bed of a friend than I would ever desire or imagine even 2 weeks ago.  But, God is good to have already begun to teach me through those times:

1) That He is wise in ways that are far beyond my understanding or comprehension.  When I first heard about Mary, the best word I could use to describe the situation was "crazy"--foolish, unwise, a mistake, even wrong.  But, from where I sit today, with looming unanswered questions and fears and worries, I can still say He is wise and loving in all He does.  His wisdom and love have been seen by Mary and her family and the people around her in ways we couldn't see any other way.

2) That He is compassionate and merciful.  One of my favorite verses, because of it's irony and baffling reasoning is James 5:11.  "You have heard of the steadfastness of Job, and you have seen the purpose of the Lord, how the Lord is compassionate and merciful."  The first time I read that verse, I had to read it a few times and then I thought that perhaps the translation made a mistake, or that James did a typo when he was writing.  Compassionate and merciful?  I don't know about you, but when I think of the story of Job, compassionate and merciful are not the first two adjectives that come to mind when I think of how God worked in Job's life.  But as I have dealt with suffering in my own life and have seen it in the lives of those around me, I see the veracity in it.  In the midst of suffering the compassion and mercy of God is seen in more powerful ways than ever imagined before.  In Mary's life, I've seen it when He brings the right doctor at just the right time, or the fact that His hand stopped the cancer in its tracks so that it didn't poison her entire body, or the things its doing in the lives of her family and friends in advancing the gospel the way it couldn't advance without suffering.  The Lord is compassionate and merciful, especially in the midst of suffering.

3)  I am a moment, He is forever.  I feel like recognizing and living in the brevity of my life is something that I won't ever fully understand.  We as humans have this mindset that we are invincible and that 80 or 90 years (if we make it that long) is like an eternity.  We "live it up" and don't think about the fact that this life has been given to us by a Creator who sustains our every breath and heartbeat and that He could stop that heart from beating at any time.  Psalm 103 is by far one of my favorite Psalms.  One of the reasons is because it so powerfully illustrates the frailty of humanity and the infinite and eternal nature of God.  His throne is established, He reigns over all, He has no beginning and no end.  I am created, I am finite, I have a definite beginning and a definite end and then I am no more and only what I've done for this eternal and reigning God matters in the end.  Mary's entire life changed literally in the blink of an eye.  How foolish, how prideful for me to think my life is my own to live and to waste it on meaningless things.  How am I living for the eternal today?

I am thankful for what God has done already in and through Mary and her story.  If we had to take it all back and get Mary back to healthy and never let cancer take over her body, we would in an instant.  I would beg for God to choose any other way to teach us these lessons.  But, I trust Him.  Mary trusts Him.  And we continue to look to the Author of our lives and trust in His plan.