When Your Cup is Empty

This has been a difficult year for me. The struggles I have face have exposed my many inadequacies. I didn’t realize how selfish I was until I was put in a situation where more was required of me than I was comfortable giving. 

My cup is empty. How can I pour from an empty cup? I can’t. I am depleted. 

I have come to the end of my resources so I take my empty cup and dip it into the Living Water. I have heard the invitation to come and drink. I drink until my soul is satisfied and then I dip my cup again into the water. Now I will have something to share.

Coming to the Living Water in order to fill my empty cup is my picture of being faithful in prayer.

One Day At A Time

 I woke up this morning with this poem on my  mind. I wanted to share it because I thought perhaps it might encourage someone the way is has encouraged me.

http://www.homemakerscorner.com/ajf-oneday.htm

Encouraging Myself in the Lord

I have spent 4 years in the book of Revelation. At first I taught it not by reading commentaries but by looking at the visions John had until I could see them enough to draw them.  Next, I decided that since in the first chapter there is a blessing promised to those who read these prophecies and take them to heart that I would memorize the book. I’ve been working on it for four years. I’m only on the eleventh chapter. 

The key to life that I found through my years in Revelation is this: God has chosen us to be part of a bigger story. The God who is and was and is to come is the author. Our lives can only be understood when we realize that we are part of a story being told. It is the story of LOVE and REDEMPTION. Joy is found when you trust the author to write your part of the story.

The morning of Steve’s surgery I woke up to the words, “ I am the One who goes before you. I will never leave you or forsake you. Do not be afraid or discouraged.” God gave me the grace to not be afraid.

“Do not be afraid or discouraged.” This week I have been struggling not to be discouraged. I’ll be honest. It would be so easy to be slide into depression. I wake up every morning and I encourage myself in the Lord. I offer to Him the sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. I anchor my soul in truth.

I’m on a path that I would not have chosen, but I trust my Shepherd. My eyes are regularly bathed by tears. Steve and I pray together daily that our lives will magnify the One who is both the author and the finisher of our faith.

Waiting

 “I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.” Psalm 130:5

I am in a season of waiting, and it goes against my nature. I’ve always liked to be busy, making goals and planning how to accomplish those goals. But now, I sit by Steve’s bedside waiting. It is clear that I am not in control of what is happening all around me, and so I wait.

What does it mean to wait for the Lord? The Hebrew word quvah used in this verse carries with it the picture of a cord being twisted and stretched. It’s a picture of a cord that is made strong by the tension it endures.

“My whole being waits.” It looks like I’m not doing anything as I sit by my husband's bed day after day, but looks are deceptive. My whole being waits as I look not only through the lens of the temporal but through the eyes of the eternal truths that I believe. It is a test of endurance.

For many years now I have been writing a blog called “The Ministry of Hope.” What is hope? Hope is the confident expectation of good. Hope is believing that God is good and that you can trust Him. “I wait for the Lord, my whole being waits, and in his word I put my hope.”

Lazarus Come Forth

Last week I was praying that Steve would live long enough to have the brain surgery that was scheduled for the next day. I watched all day as he seemed to be slipping into a coma. I prayed as I entrusted him to the Ancient of Days, knowing that all his days had been written in God’s book before any of them had come to be.

Steve went into surgery Monday morning, but it wasn’t until 2 am Tuesday that we received word that the surgery was over. He has been in the ICU all week. The doctors have been watching closely to see if he has had a stroke. The first day I was excited to see his eyes flicker open for a moment. By Saturday he was beginning to talk, though he is very confused.

The morning of surgery I woke with these words in my mind, “I Am the One goes before you. I will never leave you or forsake you. Do not be afraid or discouraged.” I hear these words in my heart every day as I sit beside Steve. Every day I remind him of how good God has been to us. I rehearsed the blessings we’ve shared for 48 years of loving God and each other. They are our Ebenezer Stones, our stones of remembrance. I’m using them to build an altar where we can offer a sacrifice of praise to Jesus.

I think about when we were leaving the hospital to fly home so that Steve could die surrounded by his family. Suddenly, I was stopped by the doctor because they thought at last they knew what was happening. Today the memory makes me smile because I see Steve like a Lazarus whom Jesus called back from the dead.

After Jesus call Lazarus back from the dead He told those around him to remove the grave cloths and set him free. That’s what this time with Steve in the ICU is like, a time to remove grave cloths. Resurrection and the removal of grave cloths, set free to fulfill God’s purpose in our generation!

Holy Saturday

 “What’s today?” “Today is Holy Saturday.” “What is Holy Saturday?”

My grandson Ricky and I were at the breakfast table having this conversation. I told him that Holy Saturday was a day to sit with sorrow and unanswered questions. We talked about how Jesus’ friend had all scattered when the soldiers came to take Jesus away. I told him how they thought that Jesus was going to set up His kingdom, but instead Jesus was hung on a cross.

We talked about the disappointment, fear and grief that Jesus’ friend had on the Saturday between when Jesus died and when He rose from the dead. I told him that all the pain they felt on Saturday was part of the story.

The tears were silently sliding down his cheeks. Ricky’s father died this summer, and now he was having to say goodbye to a grandfather that he loved even though he’s only known him for a short time. My daughter Elisabeth adopted Ricky two years ago, and he joined our family with disappointments, fears and sorrow that I know nothing about.

The first time that I ever met Ricky I showed him my drawings from the book of Revelation. We talked about the mystery of two Kingdoms that were at war. I told Ricky that though the battle was fierce, at the end of time there would be only one kingdom and only one king standing.

But today is Holy Saturday. Today we sit with the sorrow of what we don’t understand. Today we acknowledge our failures and our fears. I told Ricky that it’s ok to cry, because God see your tears and He knows your pain. I told him that his lack of ability to understand what God is doing wouldn’t keep God from carrying out His good plan. Tomorrow we will celebrate what Jesus’ grieving friends couldn’t comprehend. 

Today is Holy Saturday, and I am safe because what is unknown to me is known to Jesus.

Blessings and Comfort

As I walk through this time with Steve I am experiencing the humbling effects of grief. Our lives have been intertwined for so many years, and I am intensely aware of our humanity as we walk together through this valley where death is casting its shadow. But even here I am aware of the kingdom blessings that Jesus promised.

When Jesus spoke about the kingdom of heaven He used the word makarius, blessed, a word that in Ancient Greek times referred to the gods. *They had achieved a state of happiness and contentment in life that was beyond all cares, labor, and even death. The blessed ones were beings that lived in some other world away from the care and worries and problems of ordinary people.* Jesus took the blessing that had been used for Greek gods and conferred it on those who had poverty of spirit. “Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven” (Matthew 5:3).

Nothing has exposed my helplessness and my humanity quite like the knowledge that my soulmate will soon be gone. My friend Brenda Shutters expressed the loss of her husband this way. “The pain that I felt was like a tearing away of part of my life.” Even in the midst of sorrow I hear Jesus’ invitation to reject the lie spoken at the dawn of time that I can be like God. I recognize that the blessing of His kingdom isn’t for those who have “achieved a state of happiness and contentment in life that is beyond all cares, labors, and even death.” The blessings of the kingdom of heaven are for those who recognize their humanity and their great need, and embrace the fullness of God’s love. 

During this season of grief I find myself wanting to shield myself against the vulnerability that comes with grief. There is the fear of being sucked into a vortex of lament that I can’t escape. There is a part of me that wants to hide for fear that the grief I’m facing will take possession of me. But Jesus invites me into my human vulnerability and He meets me there with these words, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted” (Matthew 5:4).

How is it that Jesus Christ could extend this kingdom blessing and heavenly comfort to us? I believe that it because, “He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him smitten by God, and afflicted. But He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed” (Isaiah 53:4,5). He who is God became flesh so that we who come to Him can know the blessings of the kingdom of heaven and the comfort of the one who has borne our grief and carried our sorrows.

*The History of the Word “Makarius” by Brian Staffregn