A Contest on a Mountaintop

Lately, the drought has taken its toll. I'm not talking about lack of rain falling from the sky. I'm talking about spiritual rain. So many days, months, years without the refreshing and nourishing Spirit of God raining down on His people. We've learned to "settle" ... to lower our expectations ... to tighten our belts and to make do. 

And in this atmosphere, sometimes the enemy of our souls brings calamity upon us to try to convince us to give up, to lose faith, to lose confidence in God's love and power. Such a calamity has befallen us lately. A diagnosis of metastatic pancreatic cancer with spread to the liver, stomach, and one of the adrenal glands has sapped my husband of physical strength and wracked his body with daily, persistent pain. 

It is hard to watch, hard to listen to the efforts of people who are dealing with their own anticipatory grief and doing and saying things to make themselves feel better. It's hard to entertain the possibility that this thing will be fatal, with all that entails. Been there, done that. I can't awfulize the future. It's too much.

I've chosen, rather, to believe that God will be glorified through whatever happens, and what happens may just as likely be his healing. I've been speaking healing on his body: death to the cancerous cells, and protection on the healthy cells. 

Yes, he will undergo chemotherapy. Yes, he will fight to stay around as long as he can. And yes, the doctors have given him a timeline. But others have been known to surprise the doctors and go into remission, and I am clinging to the God of wonders, who spoke life into existence. Because God is the only one who knows how this will turn out. And more and more, I am reminded of one particular story from the Old Testament as the diagnoses keep piling on and on.

Elijah - after 3 years of drought - met the prophets of Ba-al (god of fire and darkness) on the top of Mount Carmel. It was a showdown, a contest between their god and his God. Each would prepare a sacrifice, and the god who answered by fire would be the winner.

Most know the story. Ba-al was a shoe-in to win; after all, he was the god of fire!! But Elijah didn't allow them to use any parlor tricks to start fires themselves. And Ba-al didn't answer, even after they cut themselves in their frenzy of begging. Hours they wore themselves ragged from their part in this cosmic contest. Still no fire.

Then it was Elijah's turn. But he didn't pray just yet. He made it harder for his God to answer. He got servants to fetch water from the sea below. Barrels full of water, drenching the sacrifice. It soaked the animal and it soaked the wood. 

Then he spoke just a few words asking God to glorify Himself. 

Free image from Pixabay

And the fire came from the heavens. It consumed the wet animal, even licked up the water on the wood and burned the wood to ash. The answer was impossible to deny. The God of Israel - the same God who extended His grace through Jesus - displayed only a fraction of His power, and the prophets of Ba-al knew their fate was sealed.  They ran. And they didn't get far. 

This is courage written in Scripture for us to realize that the more impossible the barrier, the more glory God gets when He overcomes it. Stories like these give me the courage to stand in the faith of Jesus (see Galatians 2:20, KJV and note the word "OF") and command the sickness to leave in the authority He delegated in Matthew 10:8. I follow the pattern Jesus set: not to pray for healing, but to command the disease to go away. 

Because this horrible disease, this contest between death and life, is impossible with all the knowledge and skill of humans. This disease is stage 4, considered incurable, only treatable - and only to the end of prolonging a very short time-frame. That's the human side of it. But we place our faith in the God of the impossible, the God of the incurable, the God who answered by fire that licked up the water in the wood and the trench they dug around the sacrifice. Yes, THAT God.  

King David's words, given to us early on in this journey, still ring in my head: "I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the LORD." (Psalm 118:17) Focusing on that gives me focus and helps me not to succumb to the daily grinding attitude of hopelessness that surrounds this diagnosis. 

I rest in His faith and speak to this cancer - daily - to shrink, to shrivel and to disappear in Jesus' mighty name. I speak to the pain this disease causes in my husband's back and tell it to leave, so that he has dignity and the mental capacity to choose how to live his life. This is life and death here. And life - and the Giver of life - wins.  

In Everything

"Be anxious for nothing, but
in everything, by prayer and supplication
with thanksgiving, make your requests

known to God." - Philippians 4

The above verse came to my mind today as I reviewed my Facebook news feed. So many people are so freaked out over this coronavirus "COVID-19" even though our little province has had only 27 cases, all travel-related, and all recovered with NO hospitalizations. Be that as it may, I am not one to deny the potential dangers of the virus, nor am I one to pooh-pooh medical directives to wear masks and keep washing my hands and avoid touching my face. 

What I am most concerned with, however, is the tendency of people to say that they trust in God and yet they continue to obsess about what others are doing to endanger their own health (by political decisions to allow snowbirds who have properties here into the province, or to allow more than 5 people at a time to get together, for example).

That's when I think of Philippians 4 - and meditate on what that means for me. I see a number of things that I can apply to this very situation.

First, don't worry.  Worry only robs you of the moment, of enjoying the present. It does nothing to change the situation. Worry is actually bad for folks because it raises hormone levels that cause people to gain weight and to be more depressed and anxious. Besides, the actions of others are out of my control; I can only control what I do, not what others do. So it is fruitless to worry.

Second, pray in everything. Not just about everything, but IN everything - in the midst of the problem, bring it to God. Bring your anxiety, bring the whole situation, and how you feel about it, to God.

Free image by geralt at Pixabay.com

Third, and perhaps most important, pray with asking AND thanksgiving. "Supplication" is just a fancy way to say asking or requesting. But this requesting is not the oh-please-please-please kind, the kind that has very little trust in the goodness of God. It isn't like someone making a petition to their boss or to their premier. Rather, it is the act of a child asking something from a loving father. It trusts in the Father's love, in His character, in His goodness. It's the kind that says, "I ask You for this and I trust You that You will do what is best, so I thank You for whatever You decide to do." It is the prayer that leaves the outcome to God's loving care, and lets go of the desire to influence how things turn out.  It is the prayer of faith, not in the outcome, but in God Himself.

No other kind of prayer will calm the spirit. I know, because I have seen the kind of prayer that doesn't thank God for His decision. I remember as a child seeing my mom praying on her knees, crying and worrying on her knees, for a loved one. And when she got up from her knees she would still worry and fret, and be torn up, about the situation or the person she just prayed for. It did her no good and it did that person no good either. I know that, because the person she was praying for was me. All her prayers did was make me feel shame. I saw no faith there. I only saw a pitiful person worrying on her knees. It disgusted me. It made me not want to have anything to do with a God who couldn't be trusted to look after her OR me. (Of course, later, I came to understand that this wasn't what God was like. But it wasn't my mom who taught me that.)

Prayer IN everything WITH thanksgiving liberates the person who prays. It removes the responsibility for the outcome from that person's shoulders and places it on God's, where it belongs in the first place. It is an act of trust, not of fear. It honours God. It does not insult His grace and goodness. And it results in peace, not more anxiety.

That's the kind of peace I want. That's the kind of God I serve. I am overwhelmed by His loving care for me and for all of those who reach out to Him in faith, trusting His goodness and His grace. So when I pray - which I doubt if I'm ever NOT praying as it's a conversation with God - I listen for His heart, let go of what I can't change myself, and trust Him to either change those other things or help me to accept what is. And He does, simple as that. He does.

It's so freeing.

Delegated Authority

I work for the government in a job where I make decisions about eligibility for benefits. I apply the legislation and provide an impartial decision with reasons for that decision if I say no. My signature can also release funds to successful applicants based on an assessment of their disability.

But the power I have to make such decisions doesn't come from me. It comes from the Minister of my department. It's called "delegated authority" and it means that I have the right, as a disability adjudicator, to make decisions on behalf of the Minister. 

And it's that kind of delegated authority I would like to talk about in the spiritual sense and more specifically in the area of prayer for the sick. So welcome to the message I have burning through my heart, aching to be shared.

I went through all the gospels not that long ago, and I tried to find even one instance where Jesus ASKED GOD to heal someone or perform a miracle of any kind. Know how many times that happened?

Zero. 
Zilch. 
Nada. 
Zip.

When Jesus sent out seventy of His disciples to the countryside in pairs, He didn't tell them to ask the Father to heal, or to ask Him, even. He said, "Heal the sick, raise the dead, cleanse the lepers, cast out demons." (Matt. 10:8). So how did they do this? Yes, it was His power, His authority, but they did it like they saw Jesus do it... every single day. 

And how did Jesus do it? If He didn't pray to the Father to do it, how did He go about it? 

Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead.
From this site

Simple. 

He spoke to the problem. He didn't plead for God to take it away; He TOLD it to leave. And it did. Every. Single. Time. 

I know, I know; I can hear you now. "What about 'if it be Your will'?" Well, let's look at that. When did Jesus say that to His Father? in Gethsemane! He was facing the greatest trial of His life (spoiler: the cross!), and naturally wanted to get out of it (umm HUMAN!) and it was THEN that He said "if it be Thy will." Hmmm. NEVER did He say that phrase in relation to healing someone. That's kind of revealing in itself, isn't it?

Isn't it just? The only time He prayed ANYTHING before a miracle was at Lazarus' tomb, and ONLY for the benefit of those in earshot. And moreover, there was no request at all. When He prayed, it was to thank the Father for hearing Him. That's ALL. And then He spoke to the dead man, and called him out of the tomb. 

I know the objections. I had them too. The person doing that kind of healing has to have a lot of faith. Yes, there is a lot of faith involved.  But here's the thing. It's not YOUR faith. It's not MY faith. It's JESUS' faith.  

Hear what I have to say. Romans 6:23 - "It is by grace you have been saved through faith, and that [that is, faith] not of yourselves. It is the gift of God, not of works, lest anyone should boast." 

Not convinced? Try Galatians 2:20, the last part of the verse, "...and the life I live now, I live by faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave Himself for me..." Did you notice it doesn't say faith IN the Son of God... but faith OF the Son of God?  Folks, it's JESUS' faith! 

This means that I don't have to drum up my own faith or work myself into a frenzy for it; I just need to rely on the faith of Jesus, which is Rock-Solid! Resting in His infinite faith, I can speak to the sick (germs, sickness) with authority (because He has granted delegated authority to do so) and the sick people will recover. (That is in one of the accounts of the Great Commission, by the way.) And so can you.

Me? Really? 

Yes. You. Really.

When I first stumbled on the concept of speaking TO the problem and speaking in the authority of Jesus' faith --- it revolutionized my Christian walk. No longer was I pulling my faith up by the roots every week or so to see if it was growing. I focused on intensifying intimacy with God, and spoke to problems as they arose in the mighty name (authority) of Jesus. And let me tell you ... IT WORKS. So far, since about 2 years ago, I have lost count of the number of times people have been helped, healed, been strengthened, had needs met, and been built up physically and/or spiritually when I have used Jesus' faith and spoken into their lives - family, friends, perfect strangers, you name it, regardless of distance and regardless of whether they were aware of me doing it. 

It's amazing. It's revolutionizing. It's very humbling. And yes, it's even FUN. The feeling of being on an adventure is something I couldn't have foreseen, but it happens every time I am led to speak life or healing into someone's situation. And it happens a LOT more frequently than could be explained by just coincidence. And I am so very grateful... it's hard to describe how that is, but it just is. That He would trust me (and you) with that kind of authority - is very humbling... yet invigorating!

Let your hearts be encouraged. Let your minds be expanded. Let the peace of God reign. Let go of your doubts and let God's love motivate your spirit.  Take the place of authority you were meant to have. You will NEVER regret it.

Anything but this...

When the children were young and we were so very deep in debt there was no way out, when we were forced to one inescapable conclusion - that we had to declare bankruptcy - I groaned inside. "Oh God. Anything but this."

But of course it happened. And through it, I learned about mercy, and grace, and forgiveness, and provision. I learned which people were our friends and which ones didn't want to have anything to do with us because they judged us. I learned how God can take the most awful experiences of our lives and teach us lessons we need to learn: how to live within our means, for one thing. 

When the government came after my husband and took him to court - and we had no money to fight them - when they broke every promise they made to us when he stood trial, I closed my eyes and said, "God. Anything but this." But it happened anyway... and through that experience we learned the pain of being falsely accused with no way to fight back, and we learned who stayed, and who judged. We also learned even more about God's provision, and were given even more opportunities to forgive.

When our child was injured and had to undergo surgery - when she faced unjust treatment by one health care professional after another - when she was declared disabled ... I dropped my head to my chest and sighed, "Oh God. Anything but this." But through that experience we learned how to ask for what we needed, how to accept help, and how to see light even in the midst of darkness. 

When our other child rebelled, hung out with people who were in trouble with the law, stole for them, stole from us, and finally wanted to leave the province, I ached inside ... "God. Please. Anything but this." I was so scared, felt so rejected. But ... she left anyway. And through her leaving, I realized that the hedge of protection that I had placed around her no longer protected her because she had chosen to leave. At the same time, and probably BECAUSE of that loss of protection, I learned how to trust Him for all things, how she needed to be away from that protection to see how bad things were "out there".  I learned how to let go more and more of my need to control the outcome, and how to develop a relationship with her that grew more and more precious in such a short time. And I knew the joy of seeing that same child embrace a vibrant relationship with God - something she never would have done had she stayed. 

When she got evicted and had to live in her car, when she fought fatigue, sickness, hunger and cold for days and days ... making her so exhausted she fell asleep at the wheel and was killed ... I cried in anguish, "Oh GOD! Anything but this!!"  But of course, through the searing pain of loss, I learned the sweetness of God's presence, the wonder of true friendship, the amazing impact of her legacy the more I told her story, and the empathy that allowed me to be there for someone else who lost her own daughter not long after that. 

More and more I am convinced that God uses the darkest, most terrifying experiences of our lives to show us His great love and to make us stronger for whatever is around the bend. I have learned this through the things I have gone through, usually kicking and screaming like some petulant child. He is patient with me. I am learning.

Photo "Doctor In Surgery" by
taoty at www.freedigitalphotos.net

When my brother got cancer, and needed to have surgery, I knew by then that God was going to work something amazing out of it all. And He did. The surgeon got all the cancer. There is none left. Sure, there are physical problems still, and it is hard, but God has this under control. 

When my mom got dementia and went wandering one day last month, and had to be put into protective custody in the hospital, part of me went to that place of fear: "Dear God, no. Not this." But this time, I didn't stay there. I started to see how God was working even in the midst of this horrible thing in our family. I can see God's love in the situation even while she waits, still wanting to go home, to be placed into a nursing home - the last place she ever wanted to go. In spite of all of that, I have confidence that He will make a way in that wilderness just like He did with all the other barren places I have mentioned, and way more besides. 

He does this because He loves us. He LOVES US. Not because there is anything we've done or not done - but because He WANTS to. That's it. No more than that. 

And I am sure that He will amaze us all. And that He will delight in His lavish love when our jaws drop at how good He is to us.

So ... when people ask me to pray for God to take something away from them that is hurting them, or hurting someone they love, I will pray - of course! But I pray for God to do the same kinds of miracles that He did for me and for us, ... for them.  I pray that He shows them His presence not only with them, but IN the whole situation. I pray that they have peace, that they will learn the joys of letting go of their situations and clinging to Him. That they will realize that He is right there with them.  

I have seen too many miracles happen "in the midst" to believe less than that. 

Prayer changes

This morning I read one of those well-meant phrases that Christians are known to say, and say often.  "Prayer changes things."  I know I said it for years - but my view of prayer and what happens during prayer has changed in recent years.  I used to think that when someone had a need or a physical problem, we were supposed to pray to God for them to have it resolved or healed ... but as I've learned more, I really don't think that's what prayer is for. Besides, I've really listened to some of the prayers that have been prayed for people who are sick with this or that disease, and I hardly think that they sound like "the prayer of faith" that James talked about when he said for the sick person to call on the elders of the church for the laying on of hands. Rather, those prayers sound like worries, and pleading, and doubting ... as if God must be placated. And the usual result of those prayers has been exactly the opposite of what the person believed himself or herself to be praying for.  I've seen it happen far too many times for it to seem like coincidence, so much so that I hesitate to ask for prayer except from a chosen few whom I know to NOT pray like that.

Off and on for the past few years, I've been examining the ministry of Jesus when He was physically here on the planet, and I've discovered something about prayer by doing so.  Jesus very rarely prayed publicly. Most of His praying was done in private, or when He was alone, while He was in public ministry. So I looked at the most famous time when Jesus prayed in public ... and what I saw rather shocked me.  

It's in one of my favourite stories in the New Testament - the raising of Lazarus from the dead (this is in John chapter 11). You'll recall that Jesus had heard that Lazarus was sick and then stayed two more days where He was. He then told His disciples that they were going to go to see Lazarus - that Lazarus was dead and that He was glad He was not there when it happened ... so that they would believe.  (Keep that statement of purpose in your back pocket). 

When Jesus got there, all He seemed to find was unbelief -or belief to a certain point and then ... nothing (that is, they believed that He could have healed Lazarus when he was still alive, but now that he was dead, all bets were off). Eventually Jesus convinced the family and friends to roll the stone away from the tomb door. ("Didn't I say that if you believed, you would see...?")  And then He prayed.  But it wasn't the kind of prayer that we often hear in healing services, which sounds like ohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohpleaseohplease.... as if God has to be cajoled or convinced to do good to us. No, Jesus didn't pray like that.  Here's John 11:41-42 -

Father, I thank You that You have heard Me. I knew that You always hear Me; but because of the people standing around I said it, so that they may believe that You sent Me. (NASB)

From this prayer, I can draw these conclusions: 
(1) Jesus knew that God had already heard Him; 
(2) Jesus knew that God ALWAYS heard Him; 
(3) Jesus never once asked God to raise Lazarus from the dead; and 
(4) He only prayed aloud in front of people in the first place because He wanted the people who were standing around Him to believe that God sent Him. 

What does all that tell me? 
(1) Jesus had complete trust in God's goodness, and didn't have to gather it up and strain and grunt and groan to produce it or to convince God that He had faith; 
(2) Jesus got that faith from the hours alone He had consistently spent with God in private (more about that in a bit); and 
(3) Jesus was demonstrating that you never ask God to do what He has delegated TO YOU the authority to do yourself. 

Then He turned toward the tomb and called - ONCE - to Lazarus ... to come out of the tomb. And Lazarus did. Lazarus was dead - he had no faith - he wasn't even there; he was in Abraham's bosom, beyond caring what happened to his body. His family and friends had the kind of faith that believed in platitudes, and they had no faith that Lazarus would be raised. JESUS believed. JESUS called to the dead man. And that, my friends, is how you heal the sick, raise the dead, cast out demons ... because remember folks, Jesus had laid aside His divinity.  He was fully human and relied on the living, eternal Holy Spirit to live out His life through Jesus ... to the world.  He modeled how we could rely on the Spirit too, just like He did.

The source of Jesus' faith was (is) in the relationship that He and the Father had (and still have!) Over and over again, we read in the gospels how He got up long before daybreak and went to be by Himself... to pray to the Father. What was He doing during that time? Some have said He was getting His "marching orders" for the day. Having lived in the Spirit - I really don't think that's it. Living in the Spirit is like getting the "marching orders" (so to speak) right at the time they're needed. It's a lot like flying by the seat of your pants ... so again, what was Jesus doing in prayer? 

I have a radical suggestion.  What if Jesus was simply maintaining closeness with His Dad? 

Image "Couple At Sunset" courtesy
of piyaphantawong at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Think about it.  What if prayer is simply developing and maintaining intimacy with God? and by virtue of that very intimacy, there develops a deep, inner knowing that God is with you, for you, in you, caring for you, loves you without reservation, and longs to connect with you - and with everyone - on that level?

So does that kind of prayer change things? Hmm, for me, that's up for debate.  I don't think that it's true in the sense that most people think about when they refer to "things" - that is, events and so forth.  Things may not change; other people may not change; circumstances may not change.  However, I'm more inclined to think that this kind of prayer changes the pray-er.  Inside. I believe that prayer aimed at developing and maintaining intimacy  grows faith and confidence, and strengthens the person who prays (who draws close to God) so that the Spirit can do His work in and through that person. The purpose of this kind of relationship prayer is so that the person, in drawing close to God, accepts God's unconditional love and is able to recognize the leadings of the Spirit. With that kind of confidence in God, we won't need to ask Him for anything, or to do anything. We will know He is with us.  We will rely on the Spirit, and with His leading, we will speak to whatever problem presents itself in the way and at the moment that He chooses.

This is how Jesus lived His earthly life. As I have come to ponder this reality more and more, I have changed; my prayer life has changed.  I no longer pray like I used to pray. I just enter His presence and deliberately become aware of His love for me. I meditate on His love and His goodness. I start to grasp His good intentions toward me and toward all people. I remember that He has already given to me all things (including HIS faith!).  

I remind myself that He has given me the authority that Jesus had when He was here on the planet ... authority to speak to the mountain, to speak to the sickness, to speak to death, to speak to demons in the name of Jesus ... and expect these things to be dislodged and banished because He wills it. I don't have to drum this authority up (it's already given to me!), I don't have to dig down deep to access my own faith (Jesus already believes for me!) and I don't have to raise my voice.  I don't have to be theatrical about anything.  I just trust in His love.  Then my whole life becomes a prayer - a song of dedication - an act of worship.

In this way, the practice of prayer is not so much about me, but about Him, about His love, His goodness, His passion, His desire to bond.  That is what I am learning.  This realization is removing all that pressure that I used to feel that it was somehow up to me to pray harder and believe more, because it would be my fault if I didn't do it right and somehow someone got sicker or the dark side won.  It's not about that at all. It's about Him. If I enter the picture at all, it's in the area of realizing how greatly He loves me - how amazing He is - and in the area of growing in intimacy with Him.  Only then can I grasp onto the power that He has given to me and use that power to do His will: loving and speaking life into a dying world.

I See You

A few weeks ago, our family shared the movie "Avatar" with a friend who had never seen it.  It was wonderful to see the spectacular visual effects of the film again, and the story line was compelling.

Although some would look askance at me for even watching a film that glorifies a 'mother-earth' type religion, I find the connection that The Na'vi have with their deity Eywa extremely real; it touches every aspect of their lives.  The Na'vi come to accept Jake (the hero) as one of them - but not without some misunderstanding.  Jake is a paraplegic, but when he sleeps, his consciousness is in his Avatar body - in which he can interact with the Na'vi. They know from the outset that he is a 'dream-walker' - a human in Na'vi form, and yet because Eywa has chosen him (a powerful scene that literally saves his life), he is brought to the village and assigned a Na'vi guide or teacher so that he may learn their language and their ways (in other words, their culture).

One of the most striking things about the culture of the Na'vi is their greeting for each other: "I see you."  As one of Jake's cultural mentors tells him when he is awake, this is not merely physical vision but a seeing of the person, the spirit inside, the individual's heart or character, all that makes them who they are.  It implies an intimacy that in our culture is usually only reserved for family and close friends, but there is something inherently real and right about this kind of connection with each other that resonates with me.  There are no barriers, no pretenses, no fake smiles. They feel what they feel when they feel it and they are open with each other. I think it is all a part of how they interact with Eywa and with the world around them. As Jake learns to interact with Eywa as well as with his Na'vi teacher, he begins to "see" the Na'vi, and consider himself one of them, one of "the people." 

Photo "Eye" courtesy of graur codrin at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

The greeting "I see you" is one I have adopted in my relationship with my Creator. Prayer has now become for me more of a heart attitude or focus, a knowing that I am loved and heard, more like petals opening in the sunlight than a spewing volcano of pleading words, eyes tightly closed and fearing destruction or refusal. 

In the middle of the night, when I awake and all is dark, all I need to do now is to acknowledge the fact of His presence and of His love for me.  I know in my deepest heart that He "sees" me - knows me intimately, loves me passionately and completely - and my desire is to know Him progressively, to "see" Him in the same way. All that really stands in the way of that "seeing" is my own difficulty in becoming consistently aware of that vital connection. 

I've also started to use this expression with my family (that is, my husband and my daughter) from time to time.  It always brings a smile because they know what it means!  It means that I understand them, accept them completely, love to spend time with them, and so much more.  

Over the past year or so, my life has become so much more about experiencing and reflecting love, and so much less about rules and obligations.  That's not to say I don't relapse into the Abyss Of The Should, but when I spend time meditating on His love, I find that there is no need for The Should.  I naturally want to live every moment of my life in the light of that all-seeing, all-accepting, no-holds-barred love.  

He LOVES me!!

It's an iconic picture of girlhood, standing in a field of flowers with a daisy in one hand, plucking off the petals one by one, saying, "He loves me, he loves me not. He loves me, he loves me not...." 

And that same girl, crestfallen (though briefly) when it turns out to be that "he loves me not." Undaunted, though, she picks another daisy and starts all over again. "He loves me, he loves me not..." 

At our breakfast conversation this morning, my husband and I were exploring that picture as a metaphor for what a lot of believers (including ourselves at times, possibly most of the time) think of when things happen in their lives. We base our perception of whether God loves us on the circumstances of our lives.

Let me illustrate. 

I get a new job. "He loves me."

The boss is a jerk. "He loves me not." 

I come home and see a beautiful sunset. "He loves me."

I get home to find that the dog got into the garbage and threw up all over the floor, and I get to clean up garbage AND vomit. "He loves me not. Grrr." 

My child gives me a card she made herself and tells me what a great Mom I am. "He loves me. I feel so blessed!"

That same child irritates the life out of me. Or has set her computer monitor on fire, leaving black smoke hanging in the air. "He loves me not. I'm such a failure." 

And we can treat our spiritual lives with that same sort of insecurity.
 

Photo "Girl With Daisy" by
Clare Bloomfield at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I pray, and God answers my prayer with an immediate, miraculous YES. "He loves me." 

I pray again, and things get worse - things look hopeless - or someone I pray for dies.  "He loves me not. I must not be trying hard enough. I have to try harder. Maybe I'll give more money to the church." (Word to the wise - any other motivation for giving than love ..... always backfires...)

I give more money to the church, and the car breaks down. (See? now I'm out the money I gave to the church PLUS I have this huge hunking bill...) "He loves me not. What in the world does He want, anyway?" 

I sense His presence in worship, or He heals me of some ailment. "Oh, how He loves me!!" 

Not all that much later, I can't seem to feel His presence, the heavens seem made of brass, and I keep making the same stupid mistakes. "He loves me not. I'm so sinful! How come I keep doing this?" 

Sound familiar? 

I have good news for your heart and for mine. I know you and I have heard this so often that it almost seems to go without saying, but here's the thing. There's hearing and then there's HEARING. Our minds give assent to this thing because we hear it so often, but our hearts have yet to fully grasp what it means, let alone accept it.

Here it is - drum roll - in the first person so that everyone can say it with me: 

HE LOVES ME! HE REALLY, REALLY, LOVES ME!!

Whether I feel Him or not, whether I do things for Him or not, whether good things happen to me or not, whether it's raining or sunny, whether the guy in the next lane cut me off or not, whether the diagnosis is cancer or the common cold ... 

HE LOVES ME! HE REALLY, REALLY LOVES ME!!

He (as my husband put it so eloquently this morning) bankrupted Heaven ... for me. He turned the gates of pearl inside out, gutted Glory, gave everything He had - just to rescue us. Just to rescue me. 

That's how good He is. That's how much He loves. That's how much He thrills when we talk to Him. That's how much He longs to bless me, how intensely and completely He has already forgiven me and accepts me. 

Period. No guesswork, no wishing it were true, no pulling the petals off daisies. Just lift my eyes to ... two arms spread wide. 

On a cross.

Stop striving

I was at a gathering one day recently where the speaker passed around a whole pile of little devices. Each was essentially the same as the next. There were enough for everyone. 

Here's mine:

Trying to get out of the thumb cuffs -
an exercise in futility...

They are called finger traps, or thumb cuffs. (Some folks use an ethnic term in front of that - such as Chinese or Mexican. That kind of doesn't sit well with me.]

He told us to put a finger or a thumb in each end, all the way up to the hilt. Then to pull. Our fingers were trapped. 

The harder we pulled, the tighter the thumb cuffs got. If we followed our natural instincts to escape, there was none. 

The only way to escape the finger trap was to do the opposite: push those digits TOWARD each other so that the little tube would loosen. Then use the other fingers to remove first one side, then the other. 

Since that little demonstration, I've been thinking about all the situations that are exactly like that in our lives. There are so very many applications!! Dead-end jobs, complicated relationships, parent-teen struggles, and even our relationship with God or how we approach our spiritual life.

We get stuck in a certain mindset and it limits us in our thinking and reactions to things. Take prayer, for example. 

We know that God answers prayer. We know He has the power to do anything. A horrific situation arises. So we pray. And - as sometimes happens - nothing happens. 

Enter the finger trap. We think that it must be something we are doing wrong. So we pray harder. Still nothing. We fast. We ask others to join us in prayer. We do a Jericho march. We claim Scripture. And still nothing. The bands get tighter and tighter, and we don't know what's wrong. After all, God is perfect, so the problem must be us ... and yet we've done everything right, right? 

Maybe we even begin to doubt His goodness. But we push that thought away. No, that can't be it.  We must not be living right. We aren't spreading the gospel enough. We aren't reading the Word enough. We aren't serving in the church enough. The list is endless. 

We are well and truly trapped. All our striving has gotten us so bound up in rules and obligations. We find ourselves trying to twist God's arm, manipulating Him into giving us the answer we want. 

It doesn't work that way. Really. 

Prayer isn't about getting what we want. It's about relationship. Our relationship ... with HIM. His relationship with us. We keep striving, but what we need to do is to STOP IT. Relax. Let go. Know He is God - and we aren't!! Thank and praise Him for His presence through it all, accept that He will do what is best. And trust.

Trusting is the hardest thing; it means taking our hands off it, removing our thumbs from the thumb cuffs and letting Him be God. No matter what. 

No matter what... stop striving. (Psalm 46:10). We are weary and burdened. Let's let Him give us rest. (Matthew 11:28-30).

A God Thing

It's been a hellish week. Never mind the relentless cold, wind and yo-yo weather of Maritime winter. Never mind the mind-numbing routine of eat, work, eat, sleep and repeat. It's been especially stressful lately, and nowhere has it been more stressful than in our daughter's struggles with the health care system and the disability insurance process. 

She's been on disability insurance for two years after an accident in which she dislocated her kneecap ended eventually in first one surgery, and then another, with very little improvement. 

About 5 months ago, her insurance company told her that her DI benefits would run out at the end of February 2015 because the rules were changing from "unable to do former job" to "unable to do ANY job." She's spent the last five months gathering information about all her other disabilities, not just her knee (which is the reason we have a handicapped parking permit). The list is ... daunting: everything from TMJ disorder (that jaw thing) to problems in her neck, shoulders, and back, to psychological difficulties like PTSD and panic disorder, to migraines and multiple chemical sensitivies, to a possible carpal tunnel syndrome. Not to mention that her body is a human barometer and she has pain whenever there are storms on the way. And there have been a LOT of storms.

The last month, she's been complaining of more muscular and joint aches, more headaches, and more panic attacks. The stress of the upcoming insurance deadline (February 2015) was weighing heavily on her, and it had become so much a part of her everyday life that she wasn't even aware of it. This past weekend, her beloved iPhone (that never left her side) bit the dust, and she spent six hours dealing with sales people and insurance people while still grieving the loss of her daily companion. She did get a new phone (though not an iPhone since the newer models don't meet her criteria) but the process of change AND being around people that long AND having to talk to strangers on the phone ... gave her a panic attack when she got home. 

There have been construction workers in the house this week with jackhammers. Jackhammers. The cats have been terrified and she has been jittery and uneasy. Talk about stress.

Today, she'd gotten back from her weekly counselling session and a few errands in town, when the phone rang; it was her insurance company. They had rendered a decision on her disability insurance. 

It was favourable. They had concluded that she met the criterion of "not able to do ANY job" and her benefits would therefore be extended. 

Photo "Opening Door Knob" courtesy of
sixninepixels at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Her financial situation immediately looked a whole lot more rosy. The pressure of wondering how she was going to pay her way ... lifted.

Moreover, the insurance company is committed to providing everything she needs to become functional again. Everything. Prescriptions, travel to and from out-of-province appointments, physio, therapy, whatever she needs.

Instantly, the weight of all that hidden stress lifted from her shoulders, her back, her neck, and her jaw. 

I found out about the phone call when I phoned home from work to check on how the morning went. As my husband explained everything to me, my eyes started filling with tears because I knew how much of a relief this would be for her. How much she would feel vindicated! How much she would relax and focus on looking after herself.

It was like opening a door.

It was definitely what I call "A God Thing." Only God could have worked it out, in a time frame that would mean no interruption in benefits, for maximum stress reduction, just when she needed it most, and she knows it. She knows it. 

I know it too. This is her time.

For far too long she has been suffering, hiding, pretending not to exist. For far too long she has settled for the leftovers, not spoken up for herself, thinking that "nice guys finish last." For way too long this child of God has accepted defeat. Now it is time to start walking in victory. Now it is time to heal. Now it is time to begin to live instead of just exist. 

And I, as her mother, am in a position to be able to do support her and to be one of those who will speak healing (and not judgment) into her life: body, soul and spirit. The tide is turning; I can sense it. It's the beginning of a new way of living, of thinking, of praying, of believing for me. Of believing that God's will isn't some namby-pamby wishy-washy bunch of platitudes like 'if it's His will.' It's time to really believe and declare that He not only wants to makes something beautiful out of her life, but that He WILL do it. 

I look forward to seeing more and more "God Things" happen ... because I know that He loves beyond anything that any of us could imagine. 

Just wait.

Here. Now.

My breath goes out, slowly, evenly.
Then it comes in. Fresh air replaces the stale. My body is nourished, fed. 
I work harder. The breath goes out of me more quickly. 
Then it comes in more quickly. As fast as my body converts oxygen to carbon dioxide, it reaches for more. 
That is the way of things. 

That is the way of all things. Body, soul, spirit. 

The soul needs replenishing  as well. I feed it with solitude, rejuvenate it with music, let it drink the pure, clean water of watching a kitten at play or a butterfly emerging from its chrysallis.

The spirit - that tiny spark - takes up the most room. 
The unseen needs the most nourishment of all. Like the body, it needs breath.

The breath of God. 

Within, surrounding me, breathing with me, in me. 

Photo "Young Couple Standing" by
photostock at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Here, right here, as close as breath, as close as my heart-beat. I don't have to think about it. It just is. He just is. I breathe Him in. It is natural to my new creation's spirit-lungs. 

I don't have to call down His presence. He's already here. I don't have to beg for Him to come. He's been here all along; he has done it all. I don't need to strain with intensity for Him to do my bidding. It isn't like that. We are friends. I like to be with Him He is more than willing to hear my heart. He is FOR me. He is here. With me.

His presence is here. Here, and now. In this moment, in this millisecond and in every millisecond all at once. 

I don't have to wait. I don't have to wash up. I don't have to perform. He is instant, constant, persistent. He is now. Right here, right now. 

He "gets" me. He made me and He understands what makes me tick. His presence refreshes me. Words aren't even necessary - though if I want to say them, He will not object. He hears my heart before I even know my thoughts. 

I breathe Him in. He sings over me.

Beside Still Waters

For over a week I struggled with it. Every night (it was way worse at night) I'd awaken in the wee hours of the morning, feeling like I was drowning, unable to breathe because of the liquid in my throat and the back of my nose. Swallowing fiercely, snorting, swallowing some more, gasping for breath in between, I'd eventually get up and cough up unspeakably gross blobs of green into the sink, rinse them down the drain. 

When I finally got prescription medication for it, (the doctor thought it was bacterial) I took one - actually, 60% of one - dose of the prescription-strength cough syrup she suggested. It contained hydromorphone - a narcotic-based cough suppressant, as well as a very strong antihistamine (to quell the production of mucous). That was the worst night because there was absolutely NO moisture in my throat, not even the normal kind, and I awoke at 1:30 a.m. with a raging sore throat and no way to moisten it, afraid to take any other medication because I'd been warned against mixing them. (That was the last night I took that particular cough syrup!) 

I did take the antibiotics but they didn't seem to help. Ah, so it's viral and will just need to run its course.

And what a miserable, long course it has been. I've been home for a full two weeks of work.

To top things all off, I ran out of sick leave over a week and a half ago. The leave I have to take now is precious vacation time. It is limited. 

I've run the full gamut of emotions during this sickness - just plain fatigue, yes, but also frustration at not being able to sleep, frustration with myself that I can't fight this thing as quickly as I want, anger that nothing seems to help, sadness and helplessness that my body just can't get out of its own way, anxiety over what I'm going to do about my vacation leave, whether I will have enough, and the list goes on. 

Times like this cause me to question why such things happen. 

Well, it's been a stressful year, no doubt about that. And stress impacts the immune system. The house has had to remain closed in these frigid cold temperatures; that doesn't help. And someone, somewhere, decided it was a good idea to "tough it out" and go to work or to church or to a doctor's office, and in so doing, spread their germs for me to catch. 

I know this in my head. My heart, though, is another matter. All I want is for someone to make the hurting stop, to spoil and look after me, to listen to me when I need listening to, and to show me that I am loved. 

But He HAS already. He HAS shown me that He loves me - what more could He have done but to die for me?  He DOES listen to me. He dotes on my every word, whether spoken to Him directly or not. And He has unleashed an army of antibodies in my body to fight the internal battles I can't consciously fight. 

I listen to some worship music. I pray. I centre myself, breathe deeply ... (medication helps some) and remind myself that He looks after me whether I feel it or not. He constantly prays for me. He continually looks out for my welfare; I need to accept that and rest on it. 

"He leads me beside still waters." (Psalm 23)  I remember that sheep will not drink from moving (troubled) waters. The water must be still. Then the sheep will drink.

He stills the waters. He speaks peace. "I am here." 

Ah, there He is ... the Good Shepherd. The One who gave His life for me. He is here. All the questions melt away. 

I can drink. I can rest. 

Photo "Portrait Of A Baby Sheep In The Farm"
provided by ponsulak at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

What matters most

We sat in a common area for visitors to our building and caught up with our friend's news. We hadn't really had a chance to touch base with him in years, just a few dribs and drabs here and there in bits and snatches of conversations we'd had. We thought to ourselves how pleasant, how calm and peaceful he was.

In the background, a chorale was practicing songs from the First and Second World Wars. I recognized, "Over there... over hill, over dale, over there," but instead of them singing, "..the Yanks are coming," they sang, "...the troops are coming." It's Canada, after all.

Our friend was telling us about his latest news.  "They knew it was cancer around the first of May. At first they thought it was mesothelioma," he continued, "which carries a maximum life expectancy of two years. And then they did some more biopsies and discovered that it was leukemia. Stage two." He paused and smiled. "Thank God. Really. I'm grateful it wasn't the one they thought it was."

We shook our heads in disbelief, and asked him if he had started any treatment yet.

"Not yet." He paused, and looked toward the right as if trying to remember something. "They said that the body builds up an immunity to the drug they use quite quickly, so if they use it too soon, it won't be as effective when the time comes to really fight it."

It. The Cancer. 

He was talking about it as a separate entity.

Asked if he would mind if we put him on our prayer chain, he grinned and said, "By all means. I believe in healing. But whether it happens or not, I'm okay with it.  I'm ready.  Everyone dies sometime."

The chorale was still practicing a French Canadian ballad: "Un Canadien errant, bani de ses foyers, parcourait en pleurant des pays étrangers..." (translation: A wandering Canadian, banished from hearth and home, went about singing in foreign lands). The haunting melody echoed in the large room and pierced my heart; it took on new meaning as our friend continued sharing his heart.

"Heaven. It's like retirement - you hear about it when you're young and it doesn't seem real, like a pipe dream or something. But I guess I'll get there before you will." Then he smiled - that slow, real, beautiful smile that always made you feel like you were the most important person in the world.

And then the smile faded. "I'm just sad for my wife, that's all."

He talked about how the cancer had forced him to make a decision to live life, really LIVE it, enjoy each day instead of one day just blending into the next mindlessly. "My wife and I have been really happy these last two years," he told us. "I've learned how to have a real God-centred marriage, something I wish I'd known the first time around. It's made such a difference. I can't believe it sometimes."

"I've been thinking a lot about the old song, 'His Eye is on the Sparrow.' He really is looking after me, and I don't have any dread of what lies ahead." 

"If I passed away tomorrow, I could still say that I've been over-blessed."

Over-blessed. Really. My throat felt tight; my eyes and nose stung. After all he'd been through already. And now this. And he felt over-blessed.

Photo "Throwing Fishing Net During Sunset"
courtesy of noomhh at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

He talked frankly about the long medical road ahead, and how he didn't know what lay in store for him in the valley of the shadow. "But surprisingly," he said, "there is absolutely no fear. I'm not afraid at all." 

"It's a long way to Tipperary, it's a long way to home..."

He asked how we were doing, and apologized for talking about himself so much. We said it was okay, that we had wanted to know how he was. We shared some of how life had been for us the last few months, and then (as time was short) we exchanged email addresses for the purpose of setting up another time to meet and connect. 

We stood up, each to go our separate ways. He spoke one final time. "If there's one thing that I want to come out of this whole thing, it's that I want God to be glorified. I want for His Kingdom to be advanced, you know?" 

We nodded, tears in our eyes. 

We know. 

All In Good Time

We have two cats; one is old and one is young, and that is only the first of their night-and-day personalities. 

The old cat is quiet and reserved, deliberate and unsure of herself. The young one is loud and outgoing, reckless and cock-sure. 

Every morning we give them each a little bit of soft (canned) cat food. They both like the same kind (thankfully) so I get it ready for them and put it down for them to eat. And every morning it's the same routine, the same time frame.

Angel, 13 years old, soaking up some sun.
Taken today, May 18, 2014

The old cat waits quietly for her food. There is no fuss, there is no bother. She just watches me and when she sees that her food is ready, she follows me, eyes on the dish, until I set it on the floor.  She licks at the food, savouring every morsel. She looks up and into my eyes, the kitty way of saying, "Thank you," before returning to the food in front of her.

The young one, on the other hand, only has to hear me in the kitchen when the wailing starts. He yowls and meowls as if I would never put his food down for him unless he insisted on it. All through the preparation, he reminds me that the food is not on the floor for him. He paces, he sits up and begs, he gets right underfoot, and the noise never stops until the food is on the floor. Then he zooms to the bowl and he gloms right into it without even a glimmer of "Thank you" until he's half-way through the meal. In half the time it takes the older cat, he is done and bugging her to let him have her leftovers. Sometimes he succeeds and she abandons her prize just for a little peace. He noses into the bowl and she glides away, looking for us to let her out onto the deck to let the sun warm her old joints.

I got to thinking about prayer as I watched them yesterday morning. Some people yell and scream and rant and rave and use all kinds of repetition, as if somehow God was deaf or senile and needed to be reminded that we were still here, that the answer hasn't come yet, and boys oh boys You better hop to it!! And some just stay with Him, in His presence, positioning themselves to be blessed by a Hand they know is connected to the Face they love. 

The answer comes to both. Just like every day it takes the same amount of time to get our cats' food ready, and I feed it to both of them. Yet I enjoy feeding the older one more, because of the trust I see in her. The younger one hasn't learned to trust yet; he is still stuck in the mind-set that he has to DO something to make it happen faster. When he realizes that it comes anyway, regardless of how much yowling he does, he might not be so frantic. 

I hope.

An open door

"When one door of happiness closes, another opens; 
but often we look so long at the closed door that we
do not see the one which has been opened for us."
                                    ~ ~ Helen Keller

The last few years in my walk with God, I have felt Him leading in a certain direction and I've been looking for opportunities to step into what I believe He wants me to do (at least in part.) I naturally assumed that He would have me do these things in my own local church, but whenever I mentioned it to someone with the power or clout to make something happen in that area, it always fell through.

Numerous times this happened, and I began to get really frustrated because I KNEW I could step into this area and meet a need that I saw. Alas, it was not to be. And then frustration turned to anger when my perception of events and decisions made by those people started to feel ... personal. I even went to the extreme of attributing motives to the people who were involved. 

That's a dangerous occupation. I don't think that this is what is meant by the "gift of discernment." 

Anyway, about six or seven months ago, I again asked the powers that be about this thing i wanted to do, and I got 'no' for an answer. Again. Finally, I just got fed up and said that this was the last time I would ask about it. However, both their decision and my reaction to it didn't sit well with me. I worried over it, gnawed on it like a dog with a bone. And finally, maybe about a month ago, maybe less, I finally made peace with my inner turmoil and let go of what I had thought was God's specific will.

I know people don't name their guitars, but I do.
This is Penelope, named after my 6th grade teacher
whose enthusiasm inspired me.

I (in essence) took the restraints off God's hands. "Okay," I told Him. "I'll give it to You. If You want me to do this, then it'll have to be You that sets it up. I'm done trying to make it happen, thinking that it's Your will. It might still be, but this is ridiculous.  So ... YOU do it." 

And nothing happened. Things stayed the same. Except ... except that I changed. I found myself letting go more and more.

That was right about the time that I was just minding my own business and trying to read some scripture off by myself while the worship team was practicing in the sanctuary one Sunday evening, and in popped the pastor to the office where I was sitting. We struck up a conversation as he was getting more bulletins printed off and folded (I lent a hand). He was organizing a women's conference at the church and he wanted to know if I'd be interested in doing a breakout session at it. 

I told him I'd pray about it .... which I did .... and when no indication came from God to NOT do it, I agreed. It wasn't an area of ministry I'd even considered before. Hence, here was an open door I would not have been able to see if I hadn't given up obsessing on the old one being closed at that time.

And (okay, God's got a sense of humour) today, someone approached me after the Good Friday morning service, and asked me to do the very thing that I had felt God leading me to do for so very long ... in a different church. As a guest. 

Huh. Go figure.