I put my eye mask in the microwave to warm it for a few seconds so I could get some relief from the pain in my eye. My back had gone out the day before, but I couldn't take anything for it because I'd be having surgery done on my eye the next day. So instead I went to the freezer to get an ice pack. That's when I heard the loud pop coming from the microwave. I had put the eye mask in the microwave for too long and it had exploded.
I sat down in my chair on the porch. I put the ice bag on my sore back and held my warm coffee mug to my eye. As I reached over to turn the lamp on with my one free hand I saw a few sparks fly; that's when I realized that the dog had chewed through the cord. I settled down in the darkness and began to pray.
My prayer wasn't eloquent; in fact, I didn't say anything at all. I just sat in the darkness facing East and waited for the Sun to rise. Since I had risen well before the Sun, I knew it would take a while. The darkness dominated the sky except for a few small pinpricks of light. The light coming from the handful of stars seemed cold and distant. It was dark, but still I kept my eyes on the eastern sky.
I've lost track of how many sunrises I've seen. But I know this for a fact: the Sun always rises whether I see it or not. The coldness of the air around me that morning was matched by the coldness I felt in my heart. But my faith isn't based on my feelings any more than the rising of the Sun is based on if I see it or not. I sat in the darkness praying, without feeling, but with faith.
Faith is to be sure of what you hope for and confident about what you don't see. Sometimes faith means you sit in the darkness praying and encouraging yourself with God's word. "Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!" (Psalm 27:14) So I pray in response to His word, "Lord, you are my only source of strength and courage. I wait for you."
Slowly the light began to overtake the darkness. First, I only saw a few of the dark shadows flee. Next I noticed that the black and grey around me was exchanged for color. As the Sun rose higher and higher in the sky I closed my eyes and let its warmth bathe my face in the same way that I had let the light of God's word bathe my spirit while I prayed in the darkness.
Sunday, November 22, 2015
Thursday, November 12, 2015
The Temporal in Light of the Eternal
After my ophthalmologist finished his examination he said, "We need to do something to save the vision in your right eye." Since my brain surgery in September and the resulting paralysis on the right side of my face, I have been unable to blink my eye. The doctor suggested two things: stitch my upper and lower eye lids together; and he wanted to put a gold weight in my eyelid to assist my eye in blinking. Then he added, "I'm afraid this will cause your eye to look really strange. Growing older is hard isn't it?" All I could think was, "How much stranger am I going to look than I do now? And am I just on a downward spiral?"
Times like these are heartbreaking. But I know Someone who heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. I felt like I had been given a forecast for my future that was dark and bleak--including blindness, deafness and the loss of all facial identity. So I called on Someone greater than I am. I called to the Lord, who is great and abundant in power; I know that His understanding is beyond measure.
When the temporal seems unbearable I turn to the eternal. I turn to "the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy; 'I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite'" (Isaiah 57:15). I gain perspective as I see the One who determines the number of the stars. The same God who has given each star it's name knows mine as well.
I have made it my choice to rejoice in hope. This isn't something I can do in my own power. Left to myself I'd just curl up in a fetal position and cry. I do cry, however, but I cry out to the God who has given me hope and has poured out His love to me through His Holy Spirit. In answer to my prayer for help I find that the God of hope also fills me with all joy and peace in believing. It is then that I experience the power of the Holy Spirit, causing me to abound in hope in spite of my circumstances.
There are several reasons I write. One is simply that I need to encourage myself. I write to remind myself of what I believe--and in the process I begin to experience again the joy and peace that comes from the Spirit of God. Secondly, I want to comfort others with the comfort I am receiving from God.
But, to be honest, it's the third reason that is my real goal: I found in God's word that He doesn't take pleasure in the strength of man, "but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love" (Psalm 147:11). This is really my goal in life, to be someone the Lord takes pleasure in.
Times like these are heartbreaking. But I know Someone who heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. I felt like I had been given a forecast for my future that was dark and bleak--including blindness, deafness and the loss of all facial identity. So I called on Someone greater than I am. I called to the Lord, who is great and abundant in power; I know that His understanding is beyond measure.
When the temporal seems unbearable I turn to the eternal. I turn to "the One who is high and lifted up, who inhabits eternity, whose name is Holy; 'I dwell in the high and holy place, and also with him who is of a contrite and lowly spirit, to revive the spirit of the lowly, and to revive the heart of the contrite'" (Isaiah 57:15). I gain perspective as I see the One who determines the number of the stars. The same God who has given each star it's name knows mine as well.
I have made it my choice to rejoice in hope. This isn't something I can do in my own power. Left to myself I'd just curl up in a fetal position and cry. I do cry, however, but I cry out to the God who has given me hope and has poured out His love to me through His Holy Spirit. In answer to my prayer for help I find that the God of hope also fills me with all joy and peace in believing. It is then that I experience the power of the Holy Spirit, causing me to abound in hope in spite of my circumstances.
There are several reasons I write. One is simply that I need to encourage myself. I write to remind myself of what I believe--and in the process I begin to experience again the joy and peace that comes from the Spirit of God. Secondly, I want to comfort others with the comfort I am receiving from God.
But, to be honest, it's the third reason that is my real goal: I found in God's word that He doesn't take pleasure in the strength of man, "but the Lord takes pleasure in those who fear him, in those who hope in his steadfast love" (Psalm 147:11). This is really my goal in life, to be someone the Lord takes pleasure in.
Monday, November 9, 2015
Some Things Just Take Time
Some things just take time. But it's so hard not to become weary or fainthearted when that thing involves suffering.
I confess, I've been struggling lately. It's not just the physical, mental and emotional struggles I've been having, but it's all the garbage these struggles have exposed in me. Since I've been uncomfortable on so many levels, I have found myself revisiting old wounds. People and situations I thought I was finished dealing with long ago have risen up like specters to haunt me. I pray the only prayer I know to pray: "Create in me a clean heart, oh Lord; and renew a right spirit within me" (Psalm 51:10).
Even as I breathe this prayer I see my Heavenly Father sitting close by me. He is like one who refines and purifies gold and silver. He knows how intense the flame must be to separate the dross from the molten pure metal. I know His goal is not to destroy me, but still the flames hurt. Once more I cry out, "Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts" (Psalm 139:23)! Confident in His love for me, I know that what He is looking for is His reflection in me. Some things just take time.
This kind of discipline or training is similar to the discipline I received when I was a child. My father loved me very much, and because I was his child he had very high standards for me. Because I knew my father's discipline was a result of his love for me, even though I really didn't like it at the time, it caused me to respect him. My father disciplined me according to his human wisdom and I respected him. How much more should I respect and submit to my Heavenly Father's discipline?
When my heart becomes weary I hear the voice of the Spirit speak to me, "My son, do not despise the Lord's discipline or be weary of his reproof, for the Lord reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights" (Proverbs 3:11,12). What is the end result of suffering, of endurance? It is proven character. My Heavenly Father's goal in the painful process of discipline is for my good, so that I might share in His holiness.
Some things just take time. But it's so hard not to become weary or fainthearted when that thing involves suffering. However, the peaceable fruit of righteousness that it yields is worth it.
I confess, I've been struggling lately. It's not just the physical, mental and emotional struggles I've been having, but it's all the garbage these struggles have exposed in me. Since I've been uncomfortable on so many levels, I have found myself revisiting old wounds. People and situations I thought I was finished dealing with long ago have risen up like specters to haunt me. I pray the only prayer I know to pray: "Create in me a clean heart, oh Lord; and renew a right spirit within me" (Psalm 51:10).
Even as I breathe this prayer I see my Heavenly Father sitting close by me. He is like one who refines and purifies gold and silver. He knows how intense the flame must be to separate the dross from the molten pure metal. I know His goal is not to destroy me, but still the flames hurt. Once more I cry out, "Search me, O God, and know my heart! Try me and know my thoughts" (Psalm 139:23)! Confident in His love for me, I know that what He is looking for is His reflection in me. Some things just take time.
This kind of discipline or training is similar to the discipline I received when I was a child. My father loved me very much, and because I was his child he had very high standards for me. Because I knew my father's discipline was a result of his love for me, even though I really didn't like it at the time, it caused me to respect him. My father disciplined me according to his human wisdom and I respected him. How much more should I respect and submit to my Heavenly Father's discipline?
When my heart becomes weary I hear the voice of the Spirit speak to me, "My son, do not despise the Lord's discipline or be weary of his reproof, for the Lord reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights" (Proverbs 3:11,12). What is the end result of suffering, of endurance? It is proven character. My Heavenly Father's goal in the painful process of discipline is for my good, so that I might share in His holiness.
Some things just take time. But it's so hard not to become weary or fainthearted when that thing involves suffering. However, the peaceable fruit of righteousness that it yields is worth it.
Saturday, November 7, 2015
http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://philip.greenspun.com/photo/pcd4145/hachiko-statue-78.4.jpg&imgrefurl=http://philip.greenspun.com/images/pcd4145/hachiko-statue-78&h=1054&w=1556&tbnid=RdNX6H6HhUfo-M:&docid=FzhzhiSvLBNtAM&ei=GEk-VrmaH8rfmwG_x5SQCA&tbm=isch&ved=0CDkQMygIMAhqFQoTCLmG6bb-_sgCFcrvJgodvyMFgg
https://www.google.com/url?sa=i&rct=j&q=&esrc=s&source=images&cd=&cad=rja&uact=8&ved=0CAcQjRxqFQoTCPGl3pH-_sgCFUziJgod3ykBAw&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.dailymail.co.uk%2Fnews%2Farticle-2021906%2FGreyfriars-Bobby-hoax-Dog-kept-vigil-masters-grave-publicity-stunt.html&psig=AFQjCNGUI-6SEDqDlu86GhDQ5Q8SV01AZA&ust=1447008831751242
What I Learned from Greyfriars Bobby and Hachiko
I was in Edinburgh, Scotland, several years ago when I noticed a statue of a little dog. Beside the statue and the small fountain, my sister Rose and I read about the Skye Terrier, Bobby. Bobby had belonged to John Gray who worked for the Edinburgh police as a night watchman. When John Gray died he was buried in Greyfriars Kirk. Bobby was so loyal to his master that he spent the rest of his life sitting on his master's grave. Sir William Chambers was so impressed by the faithful love that Bobby had for his master that he provided Bobby with a licence and the people of the town made sure the little terrier was fed.
There is another statue in Tokyo, Japan, that is a monument to this kind of faithful love. At the Shibuya Train station in Japan you will find a statue of Hachiko waiting for his master Professor Hidesaburo Ueno to step off the train. Hachiko was only a six-month-old puppy when he began waiting for the Professor's train at five minutes until three every afternoon. The professor would find his faithful companion waiting. But after only one year of this routine the professor died of a heart attack. Hachiko, however, continued to wait at the station at five until three every afternoon for the next ten years. Hachiko was watching expectantly, rejoicing in hope, believing that one day he would be reunited with his beloved master.
I can't think about these two stories, or the monuments erected in their honor, without thinking about what I have read in the fifth chapter of Romans. "We rejoice in hope of the glory of God." Biblical hope is a confident expectation of good based on the person and the promises of God. The hope that kept Bobby sitting on his master's grave and Hachiko waiting every afternoon at five until three for the train to return was based on a loyal dog's trust in his human master.
Romans 5 goes on to say, "Not only that, but we rejoice in our suffering, knowing that suffering produces endurance." What does endurance look like? How would you describe patience? I am sure both Bobby and Hachiko encountered both rain and snow as they waited for their masters. But their focus wasn't on the rain or snow; they were focused on their master's return and waited patiently. How do I know that? Bobby sat waiting for fourteen years and Hachiko waited for ten. You don't wait like that if you're watching the weather. The promise we have--that our sufferings are not wasted, and that we don't suffer in vain--has been given to us by God. This is the same God who said, "I have loved with an ever lasting love." (Jeremiah 31:3). And yet I find it so easy to watch the weather and not look into the eyes of the God who loves me.
Thinking about these two monuments, I wonder, what were they memorializing? The relationship between a dog and his master? Did they want to use these dogs as a symbol of patience and endurance? Or could it possibly be that these storied are a picture of what 1 Corinthians 13:4 means when it says, "Love is patient"?
There is another statue in Tokyo, Japan, that is a monument to this kind of faithful love. At the Shibuya Train station in Japan you will find a statue of Hachiko waiting for his master Professor Hidesaburo Ueno to step off the train. Hachiko was only a six-month-old puppy when he began waiting for the Professor's train at five minutes until three every afternoon. The professor would find his faithful companion waiting. But after only one year of this routine the professor died of a heart attack. Hachiko, however, continued to wait at the station at five until three every afternoon for the next ten years. Hachiko was watching expectantly, rejoicing in hope, believing that one day he would be reunited with his beloved master.
I can't think about these two stories, or the monuments erected in their honor, without thinking about what I have read in the fifth chapter of Romans. "We rejoice in hope of the glory of God." Biblical hope is a confident expectation of good based on the person and the promises of God. The hope that kept Bobby sitting on his master's grave and Hachiko waiting every afternoon at five until three for the train to return was based on a loyal dog's trust in his human master.
Romans 5 goes on to say, "Not only that, but we rejoice in our suffering, knowing that suffering produces endurance." What does endurance look like? How would you describe patience? I am sure both Bobby and Hachiko encountered both rain and snow as they waited for their masters. But their focus wasn't on the rain or snow; they were focused on their master's return and waited patiently. How do I know that? Bobby sat waiting for fourteen years and Hachiko waited for ten. You don't wait like that if you're watching the weather. The promise we have--that our sufferings are not wasted, and that we don't suffer in vain--has been given to us by God. This is the same God who said, "I have loved with an ever lasting love." (Jeremiah 31:3). And yet I find it so easy to watch the weather and not look into the eyes of the God who loves me.
Thinking about these two monuments, I wonder, what were they memorializing? The relationship between a dog and his master? Did they want to use these dogs as a symbol of patience and endurance? Or could it possibly be that these storied are a picture of what 1 Corinthians 13:4 means when it says, "Love is patient"?
Thursday, November 5, 2015
You are here
I was standing at the entrance to Walmart when the elderly man came up to me and said in surprise, "Oh, I thought you were wearing a really good Halloween mask! I didn't realize that was your face." I simply smiled my crooked smile in response.
I am learning how to respond to the guileless way young children and the elderly react when they see my misshaped face. At first children are afraid, but given enough time they adjust. The elderly often speak without a filter, but when they see the hurt in my eyes they usually reach out an understanding hand to pat my trembling one.
Many well intentioned friends reassure me that my face doesn't really look that bad. I smile and accept the comfort they are trying to give. However, deep inside my heart is crying, "This isn't my face. My face never caused children to be afraid or strangers to think I was wearing a Halloween mask. There's been some mistake! This isn't my face!"
I've been back to Vanderbilt for my post op visit with both my Neurologist and my Neurosurgeon. Both of them have told me that there is a strong possibility that my face will return to normal. They are hoping that the paralysis is not permanent. This is their hope--but of course they can't guarantee that it won't be permanent.
I have often been reassured when I've gotten turned around at the Mall and found a map that had an arrow followed by the words "You are here" on it. I have sought for that same reassurance during this strange journey I've been on. There is an emotional suffering that I've experience when I haven't been able to recognized my own reflection in the mirror. So, looking at the map of my life, I see an arrow pointing to the word suffering followed by the words, "You are here."
My doctors have offered me a hope that doesn't come with a guarantee. But when I look for direction in God's word I find a different kind of hope and it even has to do with suffering. "We rejoice in hope in the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings" (Romans 5:2,3) The hope that God gives is the ability to look at the sufferings of this life through the lens of eternity. No only that, but God's hope comes with the promise that our sufferings have a purpose, that God Himself uses our suffering to transform us so that we can reflect to the hurting world around us the love of our Savoir.
When I look at the map of my life and I see the arrow pointing to the word suffering followed by the words "You are here," I am not afraid. I know that the hope I have will never put me to shame, because God's love has been poured out into my heart through the Holy Spirit who has been given to me.
I am learning how to respond to the guileless way young children and the elderly react when they see my misshaped face. At first children are afraid, but given enough time they adjust. The elderly often speak without a filter, but when they see the hurt in my eyes they usually reach out an understanding hand to pat my trembling one.
Many well intentioned friends reassure me that my face doesn't really look that bad. I smile and accept the comfort they are trying to give. However, deep inside my heart is crying, "This isn't my face. My face never caused children to be afraid or strangers to think I was wearing a Halloween mask. There's been some mistake! This isn't my face!"
I've been back to Vanderbilt for my post op visit with both my Neurologist and my Neurosurgeon. Both of them have told me that there is a strong possibility that my face will return to normal. They are hoping that the paralysis is not permanent. This is their hope--but of course they can't guarantee that it won't be permanent.
I have often been reassured when I've gotten turned around at the Mall and found a map that had an arrow followed by the words "You are here" on it. I have sought for that same reassurance during this strange journey I've been on. There is an emotional suffering that I've experience when I haven't been able to recognized my own reflection in the mirror. So, looking at the map of my life, I see an arrow pointing to the word suffering followed by the words, "You are here."
My doctors have offered me a hope that doesn't come with a guarantee. But when I look for direction in God's word I find a different kind of hope and it even has to do with suffering. "We rejoice in hope in the glory of God. Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings" (Romans 5:2,3) The hope that God gives is the ability to look at the sufferings of this life through the lens of eternity. No only that, but God's hope comes with the promise that our sufferings have a purpose, that God Himself uses our suffering to transform us so that we can reflect to the hurting world around us the love of our Savoir.
When I look at the map of my life and I see the arrow pointing to the word suffering followed by the words "You are here," I am not afraid. I know that the hope I have will never put me to shame, because God's love has been poured out into my heart through the Holy Spirit who has been given to me.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)