Even today my complaint is bitter; his hand is heavy in spite of my groaning.
If only I knew where to find him; if only I could go to his dwelling!
I would state my case before him and fill my mouth with arguments.
I would find out what he would answer me,
and consider what he would say. "
But if I go to the east, he is not there;
if I go to the west, I do not find him.
When he is at work in the north, I do not see him;
when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him.
But he knows the way that I take;
when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold.
I have treasured the words of his mouth more than my daily bread.
God has made my heart faint;
Yet I am not silenced by the darkness,
by the thick darkness that covers my face.
~ Job 23 (excerpted from the KJV)
C.S. Lewis founded a literary discussion group called the Inklings in London..."inklings" or glimpses of greatness as manifested by unfinished works of fiction and fantasy by the great writers of that time, most notably J.R.R. and Christopher Tolkien.
"A slight suggestion or indication; hint; intimation..." My inklings are my children. How can one question a good, righteous, beautiful, compassionate God in the face of that dimpled, peaches-and-cream cheek softly brushing one's own? In this time of questioning, wondering, crying out for understanding, there they are: my anchor to the reality of God's wonderful, saving grace. As a parent, you learn in new ways what it means to love someone indescribably, incomprehensibly, unconditionally, unchangeably, intensely, immeasurably. My children sin, and I must teach them, let them suffer consequences, and yet I love them! My children aggravate me, and yet I love them. My children hurt each other or others, and yet I love them. I know that I will love them, deeply, expansively so, whatever befalls them, whatever they choose. I may not agree, I may not be able to support their decisions, but I will love them. This is my "inkling" of how God feels about me, "Must you, my child? Yet I love you! Yet I forgive you...nay, I sacrificed my Son for this very sin, however small!" How can I hope to understand this vast world of life and death He created? I am a speck in an infinite sand of eternal blessings and sufferings. Without Him, I am "a transitory and senseless contortion upon the idiotic face of infinite matter" (C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain).
How interesting that Job, crushed, bruised and battered, all that he loved torn from him inexplicably, reflects my own dichotomous thoughts in chapter 23 (above). He is searching for God, yet admits he will never find Him; he says he is terrified of God, yet he trusts Him; he knows his words are meaningless, yet he says he will not be silent! This cancer "covers my face with darkness" at times, yet I am not silent. I am meditating today on Proverbs 4: what wisdom do I seek? Wisdom about how to live this day? Wisdom about what it means to face death and live? Wisdom about finding joy in the face of suffering? What wisdom do I seek this moment?
"Sell everything and buy Wisdom! Forage for Understanding! Don't forget one word! Don't deviate an inch! Above all and before all, do this: Get Wisdom! Write this at the top of your list: Get Understanding! Throw your arms around her—believe me, you won't regret it; never let her go—she'll make your life glorious. She'll garland your life with grace, she'll festoon your days with beauty." ~ Proverbs 4:3-9 (The Message)
"Tröstet, tröstet", spricht der Herr,
"mein Volk, daß es nicht zage mehr."
Der Sünde Last, des Todes Fron
nimmt von euch Christus, Gottes Sohn.
"Comfort, comfort," says my God,
"my people, I hesitate not."
Your load of sin to lighten;
Through the death of Christ you are God's son!
Hebe deine Stimme, sprich mit Macht,
daß niemand fürchte sich.
Es kommt der Herr, eur Gott ist da
und herrscht gewaltig fern und nah.
Lift your voice, speak with power,
so that no one is afraid.
The God Who comes is He Who rules
powerfully both near and far!
~words by Waldemar, music by Hans Friedrich Micheelsen, Heilandskirchenlied, 1937/8
Fear
"We then, as workers together with him, beseech you also that ye receive not the grace of God in vain. But in all things approving ourselves as the ministers of God, in much patience, in afflictions, in necessities, in distresses...As unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and, behold, we live; as chastened, and not killed; as sorrowful, yet alway rejoicing..." ~II Corinthians 6:1, 4, 9, 10 KJV
What is it, exactly, that I fear in the darkest hour of the night? What about dying is so scary? It's not just that I want to stay on this green earth for my children, my husband, my parents, my siblings, my nieces and nephews, my grandparents, my friends. I am afraid of the physical and spiritual process of dying. It is such a vast unknown. Even the Bible has little to say that lets me know what to expect.
I am afraid of death for the same reason I don't like swimming in most lakes. I dip below the surface, not knowing what swims with me in the murky darkness. I am touched by things floating in the water with me that I cannot see, my feet sink into soggy muck that I cannot recognize with my toes, pieces of weeds and grass cling to my ankles and pull at my feet. I can't see it, understand it, grasp it, name it...the water is full of things that are beyond my ability to know or comprehend. Death is the same...it is sinking below the water for the first time, not knowing how long I will be under, when I will draw breath again, whether or not my lungs will burn while I am waiting to be rescued. 'Under it my genius is rebuked' (Shakespeare, MacBeth III:i). What will my eyes behold, what will I smell, hear, feel, breathe while I am dying? Am I entering another universe, or just another dimension of the one I currently occupy? Will someone be with me or will I be alone? Do I have to 'cross' something to get there? How will I do it - physically? Spiritually? Will I still have a sense of my body? Will it matter??
I have watched children die and adults as well. I beg for the childlike faith that surrenders to death like everything else, walking forward without contemplating these vast questions, without realizing that there is that great unknown void of knowledge into which to step. How to surrender these questions and die by faith as I have lived? How to give up that ultimate last thread of control (or misplaced sense of control) over my own life and steps and give way to God with dignity, belief, and peace? That I do not know...yet. The regrettable truth that we so often sidestep is that we are all dying. "As dying, yet we live"! Our day is coming, now, later. "In the most complex of all creatures, Man, yet another quality appears, which we call reason, whereby he is enabled to foresee his own pain which henceforth is preceded with acute mental suffering, and to foresee his own death while keenly desiring permanence." (C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain) I could pretend that I don't know I'm going to die; I could push the questions about death out of my mind. But for me, logical, reasoning person that I was created to be, I must name them, bring them out into the light and inspect them, and lay them before the feet of my Savior and beg for understanding! I cannot just put them away in some dark closet, never to be pondered again. It is not my nature. The key is what I do with these questions. Do they become a root of bitterness and anxiety that I water and weed and tend, so that the plant of those emotions grows up to dwarf my faith in an infinitely loving Savior? Or do I truly believe, absorb the truth that Christ "suffered unto death, not that men might not suffer, but that their sufferings might be like His" (George MacDonald, Unspoken Sermons)? Do I trust that there are things I am not meant to, nor designed to, know - yet He knows them, loves me, will teach me slowly, kindly, as I am on that "narrow pathway through the needle's eye, I'm stepping forward to the place I die. For I know that You are faithful" (David Ruis, Faithful)
Indescribable, uncontainable,
You placed the stars in the sky and You know them by name.
You are amazing God
All powerful, untamable,
Awestruck we fall to our knees as we humbly proclaim
You are amazing God
~ Chris Tomlin, Indescribable
What is it, exactly, that I fear in the darkest hour of the night? What about dying is so scary? It's not just that I want to stay on this green earth for my children, my husband, my parents, my siblings, my nieces and nephews, my grandparents, my friends. I am afraid of the physical and spiritual process of dying. It is such a vast unknown. Even the Bible has little to say that lets me know what to expect.
I am afraid of death for the same reason I don't like swimming in most lakes. I dip below the surface, not knowing what swims with me in the murky darkness. I am touched by things floating in the water with me that I cannot see, my feet sink into soggy muck that I cannot recognize with my toes, pieces of weeds and grass cling to my ankles and pull at my feet. I can't see it, understand it, grasp it, name it...the water is full of things that are beyond my ability to know or comprehend. Death is the same...it is sinking below the water for the first time, not knowing how long I will be under, when I will draw breath again, whether or not my lungs will burn while I am waiting to be rescued. 'Under it my genius is rebuked' (Shakespeare, MacBeth III:i). What will my eyes behold, what will I smell, hear, feel, breathe while I am dying? Am I entering another universe, or just another dimension of the one I currently occupy? Will someone be with me or will I be alone? Do I have to 'cross' something to get there? How will I do it - physically? Spiritually? Will I still have a sense of my body? Will it matter??
I have watched children die and adults as well. I beg for the childlike faith that surrenders to death like everything else, walking forward without contemplating these vast questions, without realizing that there is that great unknown void of knowledge into which to step. How to surrender these questions and die by faith as I have lived? How to give up that ultimate last thread of control (or misplaced sense of control) over my own life and steps and give way to God with dignity, belief, and peace? That I do not know...yet. The regrettable truth that we so often sidestep is that we are all dying. "As dying, yet we live"! Our day is coming, now, later. "In the most complex of all creatures, Man, yet another quality appears, which we call reason, whereby he is enabled to foresee his own pain which henceforth is preceded with acute mental suffering, and to foresee his own death while keenly desiring permanence." (C.S. Lewis, The Problem of Pain) I could pretend that I don't know I'm going to die; I could push the questions about death out of my mind. But for me, logical, reasoning person that I was created to be, I must name them, bring them out into the light and inspect them, and lay them before the feet of my Savior and beg for understanding! I cannot just put them away in some dark closet, never to be pondered again. It is not my nature. The key is what I do with these questions. Do they become a root of bitterness and anxiety that I water and weed and tend, so that the plant of those emotions grows up to dwarf my faith in an infinitely loving Savior? Or do I truly believe, absorb the truth that Christ "suffered unto death, not that men might not suffer, but that their sufferings might be like His" (George MacDonald, Unspoken Sermons)? Do I trust that there are things I am not meant to, nor designed to, know - yet He knows them, loves me, will teach me slowly, kindly, as I am on that "narrow pathway through the needle's eye, I'm stepping forward to the place I die. For I know that You are faithful" (David Ruis, Faithful)
Indescribable, uncontainable,
You placed the stars in the sky and You know them by name.
You are amazing God
All powerful, untamable,
Awestruck we fall to our knees as we humbly proclaim
You are amazing God
~ Chris Tomlin, Indescribable
Love of a Lifetime
July 24, 2002
Dear Genevieve,
I don't know quite where to begin with this letter. I just finished watching "A Beautiful Mind". It has made me miss you more than I ever have before, more than I have ever missed someone in my life. It is the best love story I have ever seen told. I want to find some way to tell you how much I love you. You have said that you can't imagine why I would fall in love with you. My only answer is that I have and I can think of nothing better in this world. I have never had one uninterrupted day with you. I have quit trying to guess what it would be like. Every time I see you it outstrips my imaginations ability. I would never dream of asking for more than to be near you. I love you with all my heart. I love you every minute. I am 'the luckiest man in the world'.
Love,
Aaron
Six years later, and I sat reading this while Aaron was out working on the car. We have yet to have very many "uninterrupted days" together, as God chose to bless us with a plethora of children right out of the gates, so to speak. What a wonderful man God gave me! I am praying for many, many more years together to realize the full potential of that love in its earthly iteration. I am the luckiest woman in the world!
The LORD favors those who fear Him,
Those who wait for His lovingkindness.
Psalm 147:11
Dear Genevieve,
I don't know quite where to begin with this letter. I just finished watching "A Beautiful Mind". It has made me miss you more than I ever have before, more than I have ever missed someone in my life. It is the best love story I have ever seen told. I want to find some way to tell you how much I love you. You have said that you can't imagine why I would fall in love with you. My only answer is that I have and I can think of nothing better in this world. I have never had one uninterrupted day with you. I have quit trying to guess what it would be like. Every time I see you it outstrips my imaginations ability. I would never dream of asking for more than to be near you. I love you with all my heart. I love you every minute. I am 'the luckiest man in the world'.
Love,
Aaron
Six years later, and I sat reading this while Aaron was out working on the car. We have yet to have very many "uninterrupted days" together, as God chose to bless us with a plethora of children right out of the gates, so to speak. What a wonderful man God gave me! I am praying for many, many more years together to realize the full potential of that love in its earthly iteration. I am the luckiest woman in the world!
The LORD favors those who fear Him,
Those who wait for His lovingkindness.
Psalm 147:11
Silver & Gold
Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity! ~ Psalm 133:1
It is an interesting conundrum of my life: the people I get along with best are too far away to see often. We spent the day yesterday with old friends of Aaron's, and these people would be very good friends if we lived closer. We have several groups of friends like that...those rare people that really understand you, those people you can see after years have gone by and it is as if you just left them yesterday. I wonder why the physical distance? Is that common - does God place people around us that are a different fit to stretch us and help us grow? Or is it just that seeing someone infrequently allows me to focus on our similarities, and the differences go unnoticed?
I am thankful for these golden gems of friends, a special, treasured glint of reflection off God's face and the true communion He designed us for. Imagine one day in heaven, when all dear saints have this kind of easy friendship! Sometimes I picture life like a strand of gold, each of these moments of beauty and friendship and good strung out on my piece of time like a yellow pearl...Cancer makes you think these things, and hold these moments close to your heart, a priceless treasure that you are newly and acutely thankful for.
The sun and stars that float in the open air,
The apple-shaped earth and we upon it,
surely the drift of them is something grand,
I do not know what it is except that it is grand,
and that it is happiness,
And that it is not something which by luck may turn out well for us,
and without luck must be a failure for us,
And not something which may yet be retracted in a certain contingency.
The light and shade, the curious sense of body and identity,
unspeakable joys and sorrows,
The wonder every one sees in every one else he sees,
and the wonders that fill each minute of time forever...
~ Walt Whitman, 1855, A Song of Occupations, Leaves of Grass
It is an interesting conundrum of my life: the people I get along with best are too far away to see often. We spent the day yesterday with old friends of Aaron's, and these people would be very good friends if we lived closer. We have several groups of friends like that...those rare people that really understand you, those people you can see after years have gone by and it is as if you just left them yesterday. I wonder why the physical distance? Is that common - does God place people around us that are a different fit to stretch us and help us grow? Or is it just that seeing someone infrequently allows me to focus on our similarities, and the differences go unnoticed?
I am thankful for these golden gems of friends, a special, treasured glint of reflection off God's face and the true communion He designed us for. Imagine one day in heaven, when all dear saints have this kind of easy friendship! Sometimes I picture life like a strand of gold, each of these moments of beauty and friendship and good strung out on my piece of time like a yellow pearl...Cancer makes you think these things, and hold these moments close to your heart, a priceless treasure that you are newly and acutely thankful for.
The sun and stars that float in the open air,
The apple-shaped earth and we upon it,
surely the drift of them is something grand,
I do not know what it is except that it is grand,
and that it is happiness,
And that it is not something which by luck may turn out well for us,
and without luck must be a failure for us,
And not something which may yet be retracted in a certain contingency.
The light and shade, the curious sense of body and identity,
unspeakable joys and sorrows,
The wonder every one sees in every one else he sees,
and the wonders that fill each minute of time forever...
~ Walt Whitman, 1855, A Song of Occupations, Leaves of Grass