Showing posts with label willingness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label willingness. Show all posts

Take this cup

He withdrew about a stone’s throw beyond them, knelt down and prayed, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup from me; yet not my will, but yours be done.” An angel from heaven appeared to him and strengthened him. And being in anguish, he prayed more earnestly, and his sweat was like drops of blood falling to the ground. (Luke 22:41-44)

Just days before, Jesus was teaching the twelve, knowing this time was coming. He spoke of death, trials, great suffering. ...unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Whoever loves his life shall lose it, and whoever hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Now is my soul troubled. And what shall I say, 'Father, save me from this hour'? But for this purpose I have come to this hour: 'Father, glorify your name.' (John 12: 24, 25, 27, 28)

He willingly took the cup His Father had chosen for Him. He knew it was imperative that He obey. Yet His "spirit was troubled", and He pleaded that the death that loomed before Him would not come to pass. If ever a human being had eternal perspective, it was Christ. If ever a human being held their life loosely, willing to see the grave instead of old age, it was Jesus. But this did not stop Him from praying earnestly, from sweating blood. He knew the purpose of His death, yet He sincerely wished it did not have to be.

So I feel as cancer scans approach. I know they are necessary, but I am undone regardless. I know their purpose, and still pray that I might not have to receive the iodine again. I pray in the spirit of willingness, I do not demand my own will be done. But, oh, how I wish it!

Willfulness is a part of my character that I have not yet rooted out. With it's roots in my childhood, when I would take any double-dog dare, even eating worm sandwiches and drinking from a bucket with a dead mouse floating in it, willfulness has been part of my story for a long time. In college, it took on a different shape: I fought doctors for freedom, I battled through nursing curriculum that maxed out my energy. Lately, I have fought this urge again as I face self-harm temptation and depression that is immobilizing.

I pray God conquers this unwilling spirit that possesses me sometimes. I pray that I can really mean it when I say, "Not my will but thine be done." Willfulness sprouts where fear and hopelessness abound. I pray with the Psalmist, "Restore to me the joy of your salvation and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me." (51:12)


Approach this any way you like. Write about how you're feeling today. Write about different theories of human emotion - some people use a list of 12 or 20 basic emotions. How many do you think there are? How many do you feel at once?


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Our hope is in You, Maker of heaven

Caleb was up for a brief time this morning. Other than that half hour, he has been laying down in bed, mostly sleeping. He continues on the IV fluids and hasn't really taken anything to drink since yesterday in the E.R. His diarrhea doesn't seem to be slowing down much yet, and it is still bloody. We did collect a sample last night and sent it off to Mayo for analysis in their superb lab there. This morning, we saw an infectious disease doctor, who is consulting the CDC and local health department for possible clues as to what this infection could be. All of the physicians continue to suspect E. coli 0-157. If that is the case, antibiotics could cause irreparable damage to Caleb, so as of now, he is not receiving any specific treatment for infection.

He is at Luther Hospital, room 4129. I anticipate he will be here for several days. We have been blessed with lots of Thomas videos, snacks, and toys dropped off by friends. Right now, the girls are home with Grandma Nel and Grandpa Ken, who graciously came just to take care of them. I am still hoping to be able to go to Todd's funeral tomorrow, but it doesn't look like either Aaron or Caleb will be out by then, so we shall see. Continued prayers are the absolute top thing on our list of needs right now!

Aaron is doing slightly better, with improved abdominal pain and slowing of his diarrhea. He is trying some clear liquids, his first sips since Saturday afternoon. If that goes well, he will progress to soft foods tomorrow and perhaps be allowed to go home Thursday or Friday.

Wallpapered in truck stickers from the enamored nurses!

My Bible opened today to Psalm 146: Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save. When their spirit departs, they return to the ground; on that very day their plans come to nothing. Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God, the Maker of heaven and earth, the sea, and everything in them - the Lord, who remains faithful forever. He upholds the cause of the oppressed, and lifts up those who are bowed down. Although we are thankful for 21st century technology and good doctors, nurses, and hospitals, our hope does not rest with them. We rely on the Lord to sustain us, protect us, and heal us, and direct those who care for us. Praise God that I do not hope in mere men, but in the God who made us all, the God who is not bound by time or circumstances, and can see the beginning and the end of every fearful situation I face.

The things that define us

I first fell in love with the Barefoot Contessa in my friend Amy's kitchen, with it's filtered northern light in morning, harsh western light in afternoon, yellow bowls stacked on shelves and the scent of lemons strong in the hot spring air. To me, certain things are tied to certain people, and the things themselves take on such meaning when I see them, touch them. I know that man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart. (I Samuel 16:7) What about things, then? Can they be a reflection of our heart?

Amy and the Barefoot Contessa, her yellow bowls, her farmhouse in the desert, her 1950's color scheme and the way she warms tortillas in a pan on the stove. Their family is on my mind these days because it is the anniversary season of their son Caleb's death, at age 5. Some people react to that sort of tragedy by eschewing the things in our world, taking a completely utilitarian approach to the life that intervenes between the loss of their child and the eventual reunion in heaven. I suppose you could even call that reaction Godly, "kingdom minded" in a way. Matthew 6:33 tells me, "Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you." What things, I wonder? The preceding verses say that the "things" Jesus meant are food, drink, clothing. Matthew 19 tells of the rich man who, having kept the commandments, asks what more he must do to gain eternal life. I have heard this passage used over and over again as argument that we should sell our belongings, as Jesus instructed the rich man to do, and follow God onto the mission field instead of making homes for ourselves. For some this is, of course, the right decision. On the other hand, the key point of the passage is not the command to sell belongings and follow Christ - what Jesus is after is the willingness to do so. Matthew Henry addresses this in his commentary on the passage:
Christ knew that covetousness was the sin which most easily beset this young man; though he had got honestly what he possessed, yet he could not cheerfully part with it, and by this his want of sincerity was shown. Christ's promises make his precepts easy, and his yoke pleasant and very comfortable; yet this promise was as much a trial of the young man's faith, as the precept was of his charity and contempt of the world. To sell all, and give to the poor, will not serve, but we are to follow Christ. The gospel is the only remedy for lost sinners. Many abstain from gross vices who do not attend to their obligations to God. Thousands of instances of disobedience in thought, word, and deed, are marked against them in the book of God. Thus numbers forsake Christ, loving this present world: they feel convictions and desires, but they depart sorrowful, perhaps trembling. It behoves us to try ourselves in these matters, for the Lord will try us.

Isn't it possible that the yellow bowls stacked on the counter - the beautiful things we eat from - are one of the "things that shall be added unto us", blessings from the hand of God? Isn't it possible that favorite recipes in a favorite cookbook are one of the things God provides us when we seek His kingdom first? Is it possible to spend time perfecting a homemade potato chip recipe while seeking God's kingdom first? If we cannot fathom giving these things up...then they are the "things" that stand as barriers in the narrow path of God's will, so hard to find and even harder to walk. Yet if they are things that light our souls with joy, easily given up if we are so asked, things that bind us together and express love and reflect Truth in beauty...

Matthew 6:33 teaches me that it is not the things that matter most - it is what we are seeking. The shared joy of my memories of Amy's kitchen glue us together, as saints seeking the kingdom of God. The shared memory of trial and error as we perfect our family recipe for potato chips binds my children to me in joy and shared mission. The cookbook that started it all is consequently part of that picture - whenever they see "Barefoot in Paris", they will think potato chips in an unseasonably warm, sunny spring kitchen on an April day. They will recall Mama in her favorite apron, the sizzle of the chips frying, the paper bag and towel service, the sea salt crystals catching light like diamonds in the sun.

I could feed them boring food. I could give away the lovely things that will be irrevocably tied to my memory. I am so thankful that the God I serve is not that harsh. I am thankful that He does not only call me to utilitarian service. I am thankful that He lights the path with joy, and pleasure, and memories, and friends. I agree that heaven in the point on which to focus, the end of the journey that matters more than anything inconsequential along the way. But if life didn't matter, if the way in which we live, the things that define us, reflect the way we live did not matter at all, wouldn't we be in heaven already?

Reflection from the trenches

Each time the mystery of suffering touches us personally and all the cosmic questions arise afresh in our minds we face the choice between faith (which accepts) and unbelief (which refuses to accept). There is only one faculty by which we may lay hold of this mystery. It is the faculty of faith, and "faith is the fulcrum of moral and spiritual balance". It helps me, at such a time of bewilderment and sorrow, to go to some of the simplest words, such as I am the good shepherd. My Lord chose that description of Himself, and He does not change. He was and is and always will be my shepherd. The word fits my need, for I am a sheep, helpless and bleating. He cannot foget one for whom He lays down His life. I bank everything on that.

Choices of the magnitude of those facing Aaron and I today are unfathomable. It is as if I have suddenly become blind, and must navigate using unfamiliar senses bolstered by a hefty dose of trust in those around me who offer help. We know that Amelia is not getting better; we know that we don't have a good explanation for her illness; we know that the pressure surrounding her brain is climbing. So we step forward, and accept terrible, wonderful medical intervention. I am uncomfortably familiar with the altar that is the operating table. I have walked up to it myself praying for salvation in the temporal sense: excise my cancer, carefully please, that, by God's grace and your skill, I might live. Today I walk up to that table with precious cargo laid gingerly there. I dwarfed the thin table on which I laid; the tiny form I lay on the table is dwarfed by it. I try to subdue my eyes, which would plead with these doctors and nurses for extra care, for divine intervention that would forestall their mistakes and enlighten their misunderstandings. Try to dose them with just enough of my faith that they see my belief and are strengthened by it. Internally, staying in constant communion and pleading: spare her, heal her, keep her, Father.

I am encouraged that Jesus trod this path before me. I look down and see His footsteps, and the pools of His tears. During the days of Jesus' life on earth, he offered up prayers and petitions with loud cries and tears to the one who could save him from death, and he was heard because of his reverent submission. (Hebrews 5:7) And, though I tremble, I am borne up as I remember to such comes the Master's voice, 'Fear none of those things which thou shalt suffer.' (Revelation 2:10)

Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you wholly...
He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it.
~ I Thessalonians 5:23-24 ~

Sustained


Evening, and morning, and at noon, will I pray, and cry aloud:
Yes, Lord, my soul cries out to you. My heart is screaming
Grant me courage to make words of faith audible.
He shall hear my voice.
Silent or not, He bends from the Throne to listen.
He hath delivered my soul in peace...
The tumult surrounds again, and again I feel
the peace that passeth understanding!
Cast thy burden upon the Lord -
throw, fling, heave all this heaviness onto His wide shoulders.
He shall sustain me.
Hunger, exhaustion, anxiety, desperation.
He fills me, rests my soul, soothes, and quiets.
He shall never suffer the righteous to be moved.
I feel the pull of tides and waves and currents all around.
But on the Solid Rock I stand.
Unshakable.
Unmovable.
I may be undone; I may be unkempt.
But He is unbelievable, and so I am not just a survivor,
I am sustained.

Psalm 55 rings true for me today.

And God's peace shall be Genevieve's, that tranquil state of her soul, assured of its salvation through Christ. Genevieve, fearing nothing from God and content with her earthly lot of whatever sort that is, finds that peace which transcends all understanding garrisons and mounts guard over her heart and mind in Christ Jesus.
~ Philippians 4:7 Amplified ~

Permission granted: struggle away!

I decided to read Job. Seems like a good decision. Nothing like a book that talks about losing all you have, family, material belongings, health...paints the portrait of a man sitting in ashes and scraping his boils with a broken pot while wondering why he was ever born...to put your own trials in perspective! I found great encouragement there this morning, as I contemplate this new twist my life has taken. Let me just be brutally frank, and admit that fainting several times a day makes it incredibly hard to keep on keepin' on. I am afraid of falling while carrying one of my kids, I am afraid of cracking my head open on something sharp, I am afraid that someday I won't come to quickly and Katy will have to call 911. That's a heavy burden to carry. Yet, at times like these, it is my instinct to circle the troops, so to speak: I can't bear the thought of having a house full of friends or family to help me. I need routine, I need silence and the quietness of country days at home with the kids. And so, here I am, in the familiar spot between a rock and a hard place. And now it seems I will remain here for a while. So how to cope? How to deal with this in a way that will reflect glory back to God and submerge my obvious suffering in the waters of Truth, Grace and Mercy?

Why is light given to a man whose way is hidden, whom God has hedged in? For the thing I fear comes upon me and what I dread befalls me. (Job 3:23, 25) As I read these words this morning, I felt the sigh of all the fears, dread, confusion, consternation that had pent up inside me yesterday releasing. Here is Job, who God called blameless and upright, feeling the same way I did yesterday. So it's o.k. to feel that way. I felt like this verse was God's silent way of giving permission for my questioning. It is permissable to ask the questions. But what do to after that? Number one, where am I turning for answers? I found the clue further on in Psalm 146, verse 2 of which I felt echoing in my heart yesterday and posted here as a mantra to my soul: I will sing praises to my God while I have my being. Put not your trust in princes, in a son of man, in whom there is no salvation. (was I really ready yesterday to trust my cardiologist to find the magic bullet for my suffering??) When his breath departs, he returns to the earth; on that very days his plans perish. (now, here is the clue - here's where to turn:) Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the Lord his God, who made heaven and earth, the sea, and all that is in them, who keeps faith forever; who executes justice for the oppressed, who gives food to the hungry. The Lord lifts up those who are bowed down, the Lord loves the righteous.

Wildflower is an explosion of light in dark foliage.

I wrote to a friend recently, noting the various poor characters God chose to do His great work. Eve, head turned easily by knowledge, became the mother for the entire race. Sarah, who sent another woman to conceive with Abraham, so great was her doubt in God's plan. Jacob, who wrestled with God, became the father a nation. David, who lusted and killed, was a man "after God's own heart". Esther, who protested when her uncle urged her to join the King's court, and tried three times before she gained enough courage to ask for the life of her people, saved a nation from extinction. Jonah, who ran in the opposite direction and didn't even desire to save the lives of the people to which he was sent, turned an entire population to praising God. Peter, who denied Christ three times in one horrific night, was the rock on which Christ built the church. I take comfort in that list of late greats of the faith: I may stumble, I may fall, I may cry my eyes out before the Throne, but it is, after all, a Mercy Seat, and there I will be forgiven and used for the glory of God.

If I am willing.

Put your money where your mouth is

"A friend once confessed: Anger can be addictive. It masquerades as power. And as I've experienced, every time we think anger will get us what we want, we’re supporting Satan’s philosophy. We're believing in the power of the roar, not the compassion of the Cross. Frustration immigrates us to Satan's domain, when we're called to claim our rightfuly citizenship in Christ's Kingdom, aligning with Jesus’ revolutionary way: the way of love." Ann Voskamp, A Holy Experience

My brother used this phrase often: "put your money where your mouth is". He is the second child, the justice-oriented one, first the minder of all details of fairness in our family jurisdiction, now a police officer in our old hometown. He meant it, too: ever sensitive to hypocrisy, he demanded a higher level of faith from all of us. The actual practice, "walking our talk". Childhood with him to keep me in check was a good trial run for adulthood as a person of faith. Is there ever a harsher critic than the child born next in line after us?

Cancer is where the rubber meets the road. (I am full of proverbs today.) Here, in this place of vulnerability, will I curse or praise that God who allowed this trial? If I confess that He is God of all, Ruler and Creator, than I consequently confess that He has the power to allow or bar this trial from my life. Logic states that He allowed it. What is my response? Anger, a last feeble grasp at an illusion of power over my own circumstance, the sands in my proverbial hourglass? Acceptance, a feeble shrug of my shoulders at the inexorable suffering that plagues the universe? Or a balanced give-and-take, the constant yearning to understand deeper, to grasp the why and how of God's reasoning and His love? I choose that tug-of-war, that soul-broadening reflection that brings me to my knees in worship one moment, and shaking my fists and crying out in frustration for understanding the next.

As always, this dichotomy of soul plagues me even in the most mundane circumstances. Throwing that familiar 12-pound bowling ball this evening was no exception. One moment, I praised God for victory. In the next, I felt my mouth growing dry as my anger rose like venom from my throat: what is the "why" in all this, God? Why I am here, using precious time with these people, on this trivial, even frustrating, entertainment? For what purpose, God, would you allow me to squirm under this personal tragedy as I swallow the bitter tang of fear to exist in this jostling crowd in apparent ignorance-is-bliss? Why force me through the motions if I am to die in the end? Why allow the turn of the screw as I writhe under the weight of the curse of creation?

The answer is: know Me. In all circumstances, in all surroundings, know I am with you. In your pain and your sorrow, walk in My footsteps. Believe in Me, do you? Well, show the world what your God is made of: put your money where your mouth is, then! Walk the talk. Shine in dire circumstances. Show the world that I can conquer physical ailments (hypothyroidism & cancer), character traits (anger), circumstances (4 children under 5), the failing economy (while living on one income), and all of this world's myriad obstacles. What is cancer to He who made the immaculate conceive, the infertile bring forth the apostle, the seas parted, the land submerged, and His victory reign over all?

What is my faith, if it is not my daily walk? Today I meditate on that truth, that faith is as faith does. That my faith in the Cross is what propels me to praise, and to love, and to bring glory, even in this time of torture, trial and tragedy.

When I survey the wondrous cross
on which the Prince of Glory died;
my richest gain I count but loss,
and pour contempt on all my pride.

Forbid it, Lord, that I should boast,
save in the death of Christ, my God;
all the vain things that charm me most,
I sacrifice them to his blood.

See, from his head, his hands, his feet,
sorrow and love flow mingled down.
Did e'er such love and sorrow meet,
or thorns compose so rich a crown.

Were the whole realm of nature mine,
that were an offering far too small;
love so amazing, so divine,
demands my soul, my life, my all.
~ Isaac Waats, 1674-1748, When I Survey the Wondrous Cross