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.
Showing posts with label trials. Show all posts
Showing posts with label trials. Show all posts
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Monday, January 2, 2012
2012
When I read this prayer, I cried. It resonated so deeply within my heart.
That I can recall, I have never had a more difficult year as a whole than 2011. The year brought some of the deepest hurts I have ever experienced.
I watched my sister walk through losing her best friend.
I watched as Mary, who had become like family to us, struggled with a very aggressive cancer that showed no mercy.
I walked alongside two young boys as they struggled through the months immediately following their mom's death.
I watched close friends walk through their most heart-wrenching circumstances in life to date.
I walked through months and months of unending conflict with another believer, the deepest and most draining conflict I have ever been in with another believer (or with anyone for that matter).
I moved multiple times, changed jobs a few times, messed up a lot.
All this to say, 2011 was excruciatingly difficult.
But, I also experienced some of the deepest joys I have ever known as I saw the Lord powerfully make Himself known in the darkest moments of this year.
I experienced the comfort of the Lord in ways I have never known before.
But, if I were to sum up this year with one word, one lesson, one truth, it would be this:
Grace.
I understood the grace of the Lord in deeper and more profound ways than I have ever known. Over and over again this year, I realized how frail I am. How sinful I am. How often I let people down. How impossible it is for me to do any of it on my own. And I saw His strong, yet kind hand lift me up again and again, reminding me that I don't stand in what I do or don't do; I stand only in what He has already done on my behalf.
It is finished.
There is an abundance of grace. And that's good news for me, because I need it every moment of every day.
The temptation for me in starting a new year is to think that because of a change in the date on the calendar, I can suddenly be a new person overnight (literally). I can make lists and lists of all the things I want to change and do better this year, and can hold on to the hope that this year will be easier.
But, if that were the case, then I missed the point of it all. The last 12 months of tears and frustration and impatience and hurt and grief would all be wasted if I really believed that I can change myself and that a life free of uncomfortable things is somehow better.
The reality is that though there were plenty of resolutions that I did not keep from the start of 2011 to now, there is one thing that I did grow in: I think I understand the gospel more deeply, simply because I've needed it and clung to it in new ways.
So....I will make goals and plans for this year and seek to grow and improve. But, none of that can be done apart from grace. Because, I am going to fail inmany all of those well-intended goals. I will need his grace in ways this year that will be new and different than the ways in which I needed it last year. But that grace and the God who extends it are the same this year as they were last year. And He knows who He wants me to be at the end of 2012 and what it will take to get me to that place. If it is through more tears and trials and disappointment, I will gladly accept that because I know His grace will be there to meet me. I know He will be there in those moments. And He is what I want more than anything else in this world.
So, I have goals and plans for growth this year. But, more than a more organized schedule or a neater room, I just want to know Him more. I want to abide in Him. I want to be changed by Him. I want to say, at the end of 2012, that I have been given a more clear picture of the gospel and a deeper understanding of what it means for today, right now.
That I can recall, I have never had a more difficult year as a whole than 2011. The year brought some of the deepest hurts I have ever experienced.
I watched my sister walk through losing her best friend.
I watched as Mary, who had become like family to us, struggled with a very aggressive cancer that showed no mercy.
I walked alongside two young boys as they struggled through the months immediately following their mom's death.
I watched close friends walk through their most heart-wrenching circumstances in life to date.
I walked through months and months of unending conflict with another believer, the deepest and most draining conflict I have ever been in with another believer (or with anyone for that matter).
I moved multiple times, changed jobs a few times, messed up a lot.
All this to say, 2011 was excruciatingly difficult.
But, I also experienced some of the deepest joys I have ever known as I saw the Lord powerfully make Himself known in the darkest moments of this year.
I experienced the comfort of the Lord in ways I have never known before.
But, if I were to sum up this year with one word, one lesson, one truth, it would be this:
Grace.
I understood the grace of the Lord in deeper and more profound ways than I have ever known. Over and over again this year, I realized how frail I am. How sinful I am. How often I let people down. How impossible it is for me to do any of it on my own. And I saw His strong, yet kind hand lift me up again and again, reminding me that I don't stand in what I do or don't do; I stand only in what He has already done on my behalf.
It is finished.
There is an abundance of grace. And that's good news for me, because I need it every moment of every day.
The temptation for me in starting a new year is to think that because of a change in the date on the calendar, I can suddenly be a new person overnight (literally). I can make lists and lists of all the things I want to change and do better this year, and can hold on to the hope that this year will be easier.
But, if that were the case, then I missed the point of it all. The last 12 months of tears and frustration and impatience and hurt and grief would all be wasted if I really believed that I can change myself and that a life free of uncomfortable things is somehow better.
The reality is that though there were plenty of resolutions that I did not keep from the start of 2011 to now, there is one thing that I did grow in: I think I understand the gospel more deeply, simply because I've needed it and clung to it in new ways.
So....I will make goals and plans for this year and seek to grow and improve. But, none of that can be done apart from grace. Because, I am going to fail in
So, I have goals and plans for growth this year. But, more than a more organized schedule or a neater room, I just want to know Him more. I want to abide in Him. I want to be changed by Him. I want to say, at the end of 2012, that I have been given a more clear picture of the gospel and a deeper understanding of what it means for today, right now.
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Thursday, August 18, 2011
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:
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
Tuesday, July 26, 2011
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
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
Sunday, June 5, 2011
Earnest Prayer for the Persecuted
Yesterday I came across this verse in Acts 12:5
How often do you think of other followers of Christ all over the world who are being daily tortured, beaten, murdered for the sake of the gospel?
Now, how often are you praying for them?
I know that the answer for me is: little to never. And I'm ashamed of that. Someday I am going to stand in the presence of these brothers and sisters, hearing their stories of how much they endured for the sake of Jesus Christ while I sat in the comfort and ease of America, neglecting to earnestly pray for them.
So, where do we begin? What do we pray for?
Our first thought is to pray for the persecution to stop. But, that's not what they want us to pray.
A few years ago, I had the privilege to be at a gathering of church leaders from all over the Middle East, Central Asia and North Africa--all home to some of the most persecuted believers in the world. You would never know just by looking at their faces the torment and pain and fear that they face on a daily basis. Without fail, each got up and asked for prayer for those they knew that were imprisoned or were facing death sentences. They asked for boldness and continued opportunities to share about Jesus. What they never asked for was that the persecution would stop. In fact, a man from Iran got up and said, "I know you'll be tempted to pray that we would be freed from persecution. But, please do not pray for that. Pray that persecution would continue, but that we would remain faithful in the midst of it and that God would use our suffering to advance the gospel."
What a stark contrast that is to our natural inclination to comfort and avoidance of anything even slightly painful. We have much to learn from their faith and perseverance.
...So Peter was kept in prison, but earnest prayer
was made to God by the church....
How often do you think of other followers of Christ all over the world who are being daily tortured, beaten, murdered for the sake of the gospel?
Now, how often are you praying for them?
I know that the answer for me is: little to never. And I'm ashamed of that. Someday I am going to stand in the presence of these brothers and sisters, hearing their stories of how much they endured for the sake of Jesus Christ while I sat in the comfort and ease of America, neglecting to earnestly pray for them.
So, where do we begin? What do we pray for?
Our first thought is to pray for the persecution to stop. But, that's not what they want us to pray.
A few years ago, I had the privilege to be at a gathering of church leaders from all over the Middle East, Central Asia and North Africa--all home to some of the most persecuted believers in the world. You would never know just by looking at their faces the torment and pain and fear that they face on a daily basis. Without fail, each got up and asked for prayer for those they knew that were imprisoned or were facing death sentences. They asked for boldness and continued opportunities to share about Jesus. What they never asked for was that the persecution would stop. In fact, a man from Iran got up and said, "I know you'll be tempted to pray that we would be freed from persecution. But, please do not pray for that. Pray that persecution would continue, but that we would remain faithful in the midst of it and that God would use our suffering to advance the gospel."
What a stark contrast that is to our natural inclination to comfort and avoidance of anything even slightly painful. We have much to learn from their faith and perseverance.
Let us not neglect our brothers and sisters all over the world who, even now, are facing pain--even death--on account of Christ. They need our earnest, consistent, bold prayers. We serve the same God, no matter how great of a distance separates us.
"...Keep alert with all perseverance, making supplication for all the saints, and also for me, that words may be given to me in opening my mouth boldly to proclaim the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains, that I may declare it boldly, as I ought to speak..." {Philippians 6.18-21}
*Voice of the Martyr's is a great tool to get started praying for persecuted brothers and sisters. They have an e-newsletter you can sign up for and send out daily tweets about the persecuted Church.
Friday, June 3, 2011
Overwhelmed
Yesterday was one of those days in which I felt overwhelmed with life. Sometimes it just hurts, ya know? A family friend passed away and though she was 93 and headed to meet her Savior, it's never easy to say goodbye. Poor little Nik cried himself to sleep because he missed his mommy. Needless to say, it was a rough day. One for the books.
Then today came. It was an early morning, which are always difficult for me (I'm totally not a morning person!). But, His mercies were new and they shone so very brightly into my weary and burdened heart.
Nik wanted to bring his Bible to school this morning and he read Scripture to me on the short drive to school. His heart is hungering more and more after God's Word and my heart is more and more encouraged by it.
My parents and sister and I went down to UCLA for a doctor's appointment for my sweet mom who has Parkinson's Disease. We were all faced with the painful reminder that it's a progressive disease, that her earthly body is never going to be perfectly "ok" again. And yet, there we sat in the doctor's office, laughing, enjoying one another, uncertain of, but not fearful for the future.
God reminded me through phone calls and texts from friends, time with family, worship music we listened to in the car, and His Word that He is good. His kindness never ends. He is faithful in every season.
He has promised in His Word that "goodness and mercy shall follow [literally pursue] me all the days of my life." (Psalm 23:6) And He has proven that promise moment by moment, day by day in more ways than I can ever hope to express.
He pursued me to rescue my soul from death and He will continue to pursue me in goodness and mercy forever. I can think of nothing more sweet.
Then today came. It was an early morning, which are always difficult for me (I'm totally not a morning person!). But, His mercies were new and they shone so very brightly into my weary and burdened heart.
Nik wanted to bring his Bible to school this morning and he read Scripture to me on the short drive to school. His heart is hungering more and more after God's Word and my heart is more and more encouraged by it.
My parents and sister and I went down to UCLA for a doctor's appointment for my sweet mom who has Parkinson's Disease. We were all faced with the painful reminder that it's a progressive disease, that her earthly body is never going to be perfectly "ok" again. And yet, there we sat in the doctor's office, laughing, enjoying one another, uncertain of, but not fearful for the future.
God reminded me through phone calls and texts from friends, time with family, worship music we listened to in the car, and His Word that He is good. His kindness never ends. He is faithful in every season.
He has promised in His Word that "goodness and mercy shall follow [literally pursue] me all the days of my life." (Psalm 23:6) And He has proven that promise moment by moment, day by day in more ways than I can ever hope to express.
He pursued me to rescue my soul from death and He will continue to pursue me in goodness and mercy forever. I can think of nothing more sweet.
Saturday, May 21, 2011
Time
I find myself wrestling over and over again with the timing of the Lord. In my human impatience and anxiety, I want to know now. But, God doesn't seem to be as concerned with the timing as he is with the outcome. He knows the number of days, minutes, seconds that are needed in the fulfillment of his purposes in my life. He doesn't delay a single moment. From where I sit today, there are quite a few circumstances in which I wish I could fast-forward 5, 10, 20 years and see the outcome. But, from where He sits, the beginning and the end are clear and the process of getting from where I am today to where He wants me to be is one of waiting on Him. He knows exactly how long it will take and the conditions along the way that will bring about the end result.
Here are some of my favorite verses lately about His perfect timing:
Here are some of my favorite verses lately about His perfect timing:
For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace....
He has made everything beautiful in its time."
Ecclesiastes 3:1-8,11
When I look at each of the "times" that God has ordained, I am humbled. Each of those seasons are part of His plan. He doesn't want to skip over the season for weeping to get back to laughing again. He doesn't want to start building up before the season for breaking down is over. Each of those are beautiful in their own right, none more beautiful than the other. There is always something that He has for me in each and every season He has planted me in and I don't want to skip over it just to get to the next season.
Habakkuk also wrestled with the timing of the Lord and went to God often with His fear and desire for immediate justice. "Come on, God. This surely can't be what you have planned, everything just seems to be going bad all around me." And then, God answers him, saying that his plan is good, but too good for Habakkuk to understand with his human mind from where he stands. Habakkuk answers again, "Ok, Lord. I get it. You're good, your ways are beyond me....but, seriously, how long are you going to let this go on for?" And, then God responds in this way:
For still the vision awaits its appointed time;
it hastens to the end--it will not lie.
If it seems slow, wait for it;
it will surely come; it will not delay.
I love God's response. He doesn't tell Habakkuk when His plan will be fulfilled or even how; just that it will be fulfilled and at exactly the right moment. Habakkuk continues to wrestle with God, but finally comes to the conclusion that he still has so much to rejoice in because the goodness and faithfulness of God is still evident, even in seeming desolate seasons.
Finally, there is this little gem of a passage in Malachi 3:2-3
For He [the Lord] is like a refiner's fire and fullers' soap.
He will sit as a refiner and purifier of silver,
and he will purify the sons of Levi and refine them like gold and silver,
and they will bring offerings in righteousness to the Lord."
His goal is refining us until we are ready to come to Him with offerings of righteousness. Wow. What a wise and patient God. A refiner sitting down, holding silver over a flame, watching all of the imperfections bleed out until the desired result is accomplished--that's what my Heavenly Father does with me. He sees the beauty that is hidden underneath and is willing to sit next to the flame until that beauty comes through brilliantly; He knows exactly how long that will take and He sits there patiently until just the right moment.
My Father understands time in a way that is so different than I do--and I love Him for it. Just another proof of how worthy He is of my praise and adoration; He is so unlike me, so wise in all He does, so unlimited by minutes and hours and days and years. So, like Habakkuk, I will rejoice in the Lord though I don't understand all of his ways. I will look forward in anticipation to the revelation of His plan, but I will wait with quiet patience and joy because of who God is and what He's already done today.
Thursday, February 10, 2011
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
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
Monday, November 1, 2010
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.
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.
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