Scars

As I carry the mail to rural residents in the Texas Panhandle, I spend several hours in my car traveling many miles on countless dirt and county roads. While I travel, I enjoy listening to Christian radio stations and I have heard many good sermons from a variety of preachers. This has been a blessed season of my life to soak in the word of God and to listen as others expound on the word. Recently I heard a message on the book of Jonah. Unfortunately, I don’t remember the preacher or even the station since I listen to several stations depending on the reception in the area.

Anyway, this pastor was speculating on whether it was possible that Jonah carried scars from his encounter in the belly of the whale and that perhaps those scars made his message of God’s coming judgment and cry for repentance to the city of Nineveh even more believable. Even if he carried no outward scars, his testimony of God’s justice and punishment, his own repentance and God’s mighty hand of salvation would have given credibility to his message. Jonah’s life conveyed evidence of both God’s judgment and His salvation.

As I listened, I began to think about those whose scars are a testimony to the world of God’s goodness. Some people have visible scars that bare obvious evidence of God’s grace, mercy, and restoration in their lives; their scars like marred wood add beauty to their life and their testimony. Some have been rescued from sin and their scars are a banner they wear as a testimony to God’s salvation. Some have been redeemed and restored through circumstances and though their scars may not be as visual they cannot hide nor squelch the joyous light that radiates from them as they loudly proclaim their testimony and praise to the God of their salvation. Sometimes God’s restoration is only a restoration of joy and peace in the midst of difficult situations and it leaves the world puzzled and confused because there is no doubt that wounds have been bound and healed and no longer have any crippling power despite difficult circumstances.

And yet there are others who have also received a weighty dose of grace – those who have been saved from the death sentence of sin and whose self-inflicted wounds have been bandaged and healed – who never bare their scars but keep them covered and hidden as though they don’t exist. They may – I may – should the moment call for testimony – hold out to the world a finger that has had a splinter removed and boast of the Band-Aid there, but we deceive ourselves when we hide the wide scars of deep chest wounds. We are self-righteous Pharisees unwilling to admit that we have wounded and have been wounded by covetousness, gossip, adultery, disobedience, fornication, maliciousness, envy, unrighteousness, wickedness, pride, and a host of other wrongs.

We were born with a sin nature into a fallen world, but so often we want to deny that we struggle, have struggled, and will continue to struggle with both inward and outward sin. *Although we are given great promises that we can with diligence add to our faith, virtue, knowledge, temperance, patience, godliness, brotherly kindness, and charity, we easily forget we have obtained precious faith and these virtues through the righteousness of God and our Savior Jesus Christ and He has given unto us all things that pertain unto life and godliness.

We forget that we were purged from our old sins and obtained noting on our own. We all have been wounded and hurt by sin, but we have a Savior who heals. So let us rejoice in our salvation and rejoice in our restoration; and let us pray for strength to remove the covering of self-righteous pride and lay bare the scars of those deep heart wounds remembering that scars can add beauty to our lives, credibility to our testimony, and encouragment to those whose wounds are still raw.

* 2 Peter 1:1-9

What to Do When Nothing Blooms

There it was – swaying in the cold wind that came whipping around the house – a single bloom. Today is the first of May and usually by now my iris blooms have begun to fade and make way for other spring flowers, but this year this single bloom is not only late but lonely. Irises are a hardy spring flowers and they’ve been known to bloom around old farm houses for decades after the occupants have left the farm. I have raised irises in many places for many years and I cannot remember a spring in which they did not bloom – until this year.

The Texas Panhandle is a land of extremes when it comes to the weather. Temperatures in the summer can soar to triple digits and winter lows can plummet to negative numbers. It is not uncommon for wind gusts to top more than 50 mph. We have tornadoes, torrential rains, blizzards, hail that is measured in feet, severe drought and dirt storms in which rolling walls of dirt block out the sun and reduce visibility to almost zero. Since 2011 the Texas Panhandle has experienced one of the most severe droughts since the 1930’s and although we have had a little moisture this spring it has not been nearly enough and the land remains parched and dry. This week has continued the fight between winter and summer that we have seen repeated throughout the month of April with temperatures warming to almost summer like heat only to fall below freezing a few days later. Yesterday it was in the 90’s and tomorrow’s highs will remain in the 40’s. I think perhaps it has been these temperature extremes along with the prolonged drought that has stripped spring of its color and I long for warmer weather and colorful spring flowers.

Sometimes life can seem as dry and colorless as the Texas Panhandle during a drought. We feel continually buffeted by storms and emotional extremes that dry up our reserves and weigh heavy on our heart. And although we may have a brief reprieve in which the weather warms and we can kick off our shoes and relax, the recess does not last long enough to grow or even gain strength before we are once again blasted by the cold winds of despondence and despair. What do we do when we’re downcast and discouraged; when we have nothing to offer – no blooms, no fruit, no increase; no offering?

We remember! I remember all the many seasons in which my yard was ablaze with color. I remember the years of rain and abundance. I remember blessings to numerous to count and I remember to give thanks for the past as well as the present. Throughout the pages of scripture the saints of God remember His mighty works and they are strengthened by the remembrance of His deliverance. So when we have no blooms, when we don’t even have the hope of fruit, we can remember and be encouraged that the One who was faithful is faithful still. The rains will come again, the flowers and fruit will bloom and produce in abundance, and the thirsty will be satisfied. Even if it doesn’t rain this side of heaven I will still rejoice in the remembrance of my blessings and the God of my salvation!

While We Were Sleeping

“America, what will we miss while we are sleeping?” the words to the song While We Were Sleeping by Casting Crowns flow through my head and tears fill my eyes as I listen to the news. In Boston people are hurting, both emotionally and physically and America prays as the media keeps us up-to-date on the details of the bombing. We grieve for the dead and hurt for the wounded and we are thankful for news coverage that keeps us informed. We rejoice to hear about the everyday heroes who ran to rescue the wounded and hurting. And we continue to pray.

But what about the hurt that isn’t covered – the hurt that isn’t broadcast or told?  In Philadelphia an abortion doctor is on trial for murder – accused of internally beheading babies who survived an abortion by snipping their spinal column at the back of the neck – and until recently the media is silent because “it upsets a particular narrative about the reality of certain types of abortion, and that reality isn’t something some pro-choice absolutists what to discuss.”

When did the media no longer report the news? When did we quit listening to news that might convict our hearts and send the message to those who report that we as a nation did not want to hear what might condemn or offend? When did we become so caught up in our own little world and the world of our friends and celebrities and cute and entertaining stories that we no longer wanted to hear hard truth? When did we come to believe that truth is relative, that man is good and just, and that as a nation we can govern ourselves without God?….When did I do these things without thought or notice?

“Every son deceived by philosophies that save the trees and kill the children.” The words to the powerful song continue to ring in my head and echo in my heart as I read about a trial that is now in its fifth week and I wonder how much I really want to know. I think about the citizens of Nazi Germany who turned a blind eye to the horror in their own back yard. I think about the words of Isaiah and Ezekiel condemning those who had sacrificed their children to false gods and the words of the law in Leviticus 20:4 and I shudder. Have we inherited a generational curse of slumber? Do we even know how badly we need a Savior?

I wonder what will I do with what I know; I wonder what can I do?  I honestly don’t know. I’m not even sure how to pray. I pray for the victims and their families in Boston; I pray for those who hurt and mourn.  But who are those who mourn for the victims in Philadelphia?  Who mourns for the women who felt they had no other options? Who mourns for the hopeless? Who mourns for a nation that kills its offspring – its future – for convenience?

Oh Lord, have mercy on us. Heal our hearts that are not breaking. Heal our minds that our so self-centered we do not want to know. Heal our tongues that pour forth idle words and are silent when we need to speak. Heal our hands that are not helping. Have mercy and give us eyes to see and ears to hear and hearts that know how much we need a Savior!

 

When You’re Hurting

It started Monday and it has happened before so I should have known what was coming, but all I noticed Monday was that I seemed to be developing a toothache. I couldn’t even determine which tooth was hurting, but that dull ache and the sensitivity to hot and cold were definite signs something wasn’t quite right. By Tuesday morning my lower jaw was beginning to throb, but I was scheduled to work, so I took some ibuprofen, stuck a few more in my lunch sack and headed out the door. Tuesday night I no longer had any doubts – my tooth was abscessed and I was in pain.

However, as a substitute mail carrier I felt I needed to work when the work was available; as my Dad used say, “You make hay while the sun shines.” Besides there’s no substitute for the substitute – you’re it. So despite a low grade fever and a throbbing, swollen, jaw, Wednesday morning I took three ibuprofen, packed the bottle, and once again headed off to work.

I don’t like others to know when I am hurting, but I didn’t want anyone to take offense if I wasn’t my usual talkative self, so I told a few co-workers about my tooth. I soon had a wealth of advice and tips on how to reduce the pain – everything from swishing whisky, lukewarm water, or salt water around in my mouth to pricking the abscess on my gum to relieve the pressure. I was surprised at how many people had experienced the pain of an abscessed tooth and although every experience was different, everyone was very empathic.

The dentist I last used was in a town more than 80 miles from where I was working and since I hadn’t seen him in over a year, he would not call in a prescription for antibiotics until after an initial visit. I understood, but I there was no way I could get to his office before closing. A co-worker suggested a new dental clinic that accepted walk-ins and kept later hours. As I left work and headed towards the dental clinic and home I was suddenly acutely aware of how bad I really felt. Driving to work that morning I had prayed for strength to get through the day, and while I focused on doing my job and doing it well I was able to endure the pain. Driving back I could barely concentrate on prayer and I was simply praying I would have the strength to make it home. Two hours later I arrived home with a prescription in hand and was soon wrapped in a quilt on the couch unable to go any further or do any more. My sleep was restless, but sleep was what I needed.

I would like to say I was much better the next morning, but it was another 24 hours before the pain really began to subside. Today as I once more head to work, I feel much better; however, I know that next week I’ll have to endure a little more pain for a short time before it will really begin to heal as the dentist gets down to the ‘root’ of the problem. It was a difficult week, but I was reminded of some valuable lessons that are helpful to remember when we are hurting:

• Life does not always stop when we’re hurting and sometimes we just have to do what must be done. We may be surprised at what we can do when we ask Christ to strengthen us.
•  Focusing on our service to others may not alleviate the pain but it helps pass the time while we’re waiting for help and healing.
• Honestly talking about our pain and letting others know we’re hurting may provide us with some helpful advice.
• Sometimes what we really need the most is sleep.
• We usually need someone to help us when we’re in pain. Sometimes we need professional help because we cannot mend or resolve the problem ourselves. Sometimes we just need a wise and compassionate friend. Often we need both.
• Very few problems have a ‘quick fix’; most of the time we must get to the root of the problem before true healing starts.

I would like to be able to avoid all pain in my life, but unfortunately sometimes pain is unavoidable. However, I know that if I never experienced pain I would have no compassion for those who are hurting. I pray that I do not forget what it feels like to hurt.

Reminders of Blessings

I read these words posted by Ryan Sprague and the memories come flooding back, “In that moment I was more disappointed that my cereal would get soggy than I cared about my child.” Ryan’s post about Soggy Cereal reminded me of a very similar incident and my heart breaks to remember how my selfishness often robbed me of the joy of caring for my son.

There was a time when I cried, “Why me, Lord?” with a clenched fist and an a confused, angry heart, but when I read about Ryan and his son Caedmon I once more find myself whispering the words in humbled awe and adoration, “Why me, Lord? Why me?”

I remember people telling me I must be special for God to choose me to parent a handicapped child. I didn’t think much of the comments, in fact, I usually thought it was a trite expression people used because they could not understand or explain why such hardships and hurt existed. Most of time I thought they were glad it was me and not their daily burden and to think God only gave such hardships to special people helped relieve them of the guilt of such feelings.

The truth is hardships and trials come in all shapes and sizes and they are often God’s way of exposing our hearts so that we can get a glimpse of our true nature. It is surprising how highly we…how highly I…think of myself until I see my true nature exposed. Parenting Justin was one of the most difficult seasons in my life and God used him many times to reveal the true nature of my broken, sinful heart. He uses many other things to teach the same lessons in the lives of others and those hardships are just as difficult, but I am awed and blessed when I hear other parents of handicapped children relating some of the same experiences. We may not be special but God has placed some very special children in our lives and reading Ryan’s post reminded how richly we – how richly I – have been blessed.

Stumbling in the Dark

Yesterday I stepped out into the grey moonlight and watched as my passing cast a shadow in the pale light. There is a silent beauty in moonlight that is peaceful and calming, and the moonlit mornings of the past few days have been a welcome relief from the dark of night that seems to hover thick and close when we head to the barn before dawn. Even before the time changed we stepped out into the dark each morning and headed to the barn, but since then the blackness of night seems even more intense as we walk out into the morning almost two hours before sunrise.

For years I have struggled with poor night vision and there are some moonless mornings that I am almost afraid to move because I cannot see the ground or much more than an arm’s length in any direction. I know the path and I trust that the ground will remain solid under my feet, but walking in the dark is still frightening. I have stumbled a few times over little things like a water hose left out or tumbleweed that has blown in the path, but I have not fallen. I just stumbled, regained my balance, and continued to walk and yet, I still face fear every morning when I step out the door.

I have made it to the barn many times in the dark, and my mind knows that even if I were to fall, it is very unlikely my injuries would be more than a few scrapes and bruises – a fall would not be fatal. But it would probably hurt – at least a little – and that is enough for me to want to avoid walking in the dark, so most of the time we carry a small flashlight to light the way before us. It does not completely dispel the darkness, but it does give light to my feet and since I know where I am going, that is enough.

There have been times when I faced other dark paths in my life – times when I was afraid to move because I could not see the path in front of me. The whole world seemed dark the day we brought my oldest son home from the hospital and stared down the dark path of a world where brain damage was a reality. The day my husband died I felt like I stepped into a fog, and there was no light on my path the day my youngest son was missing – lost in a city a thousand miles from home.

However, there are some things I have learned about dark journeys:

1. I cannot get very far if I do not move, so sometimes I just have to step out into the dark and trust the foundation on which I stand.

2. I don’t always walk gracefully, I have stumbled a few times, indeed many times, but I have not fallen, and it is a great comfort to know we belong to One who is able to keep us from falling. (Jude 1:24)

4. His word is a lamp unto my feet and a light unto my path. It may not always completely dispel the darkness, but it gives light in a dark world.

Although dark paths may still seem scary and my heart may still tremble and quake when the world turns black, I know there is no need to fear dark paths, for He knows where I am going and that is enough.

Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. ~Psalm 23:4

Earnest Prayer

“I will pray for you.”  The words roll off my tongue easily enough and many times my heart whispers a short prayer right at that moment if I do not have the courage to boldly pray aloud. But for the past year I have been strongly convicted about my negligible attitude towards prayer – particularly my prayers for others. Oh, I believe prayer is important and I do pray. However, when it comes to praying for those whose lives do not directly intersect mine or even those whom I love and whose lives do intersect mine, I wonder if I have prayed as earnestly.

I read the prayer of Moses in Deuteronomy 9: 25, “Thus I prostrated myself before the LORD; forty days and forty nights I kept prostrating myself, because the LORD had said He would destroy you. Therefore I prayed to the LORD,…” And I read the prayer of Daniel, “Then I set my face toward the Lord God to make request by prayer and supplications, with fasting, sackcloth, and ashes.” [Daniel 9:3] Both of these men were interceding on behalf of their nation that had rebelled and turned away from God. They were earnestly pleading for God’s mercy in the lives of others.

I think about the times when I have prayed for others; times when I have knelt and shed tears on behalf of those I love. There have been times when my heart has been burdened for another – especially those I hold most dear – but I know that in comparison to these great men of God, I have not yet really spent time in earnest prayer. I have not donned sackcloth and sat in ashes; I have not lain face down for 40 days without food; I have not sweat drops of blood. I have not lain down my agenda, my desires, my time, and poured out my heart on behalf of another – not really…not earnestly…not like that. And if my prayers on behalf of those I know and love are not as intensely passionate as they could or should be, then my prayers for our nation are feeble at best.

I am thankful the Lord hears my prayers despite the lack of intensity and while I may not understand how my prayers intermingle with God’s sovereignty, I believe prayer is a vital part of the Christian life. Prayer is both a responsibility and a privilege, but I think it can also be a window to our heart. If my prayers for myself and those dear to me are more fervent than those for others whom I barely know or do not know at all, is it because my love for myself, my agenda, my needs, my wants, and the needs and wants of those close to me are more precious…more important than the needs of others and our nation? And what do my prayers reveal about my heart if even those self-centered prayers lack the zealous fire of a heart that loves deeply. Is it possible that I do not earnestly pray because I do not passionately, zealously, ardently, love my neighbor, the child down the street, the child in a third world country, or the nation that is my home? Oh, how I desire that I would learn to love deeply because I am loved deeply.  If only my devotion to prayer would reflect some small measure of that love.

Lord, please teach me to pray.