Interrupting God

For the past several nights I have awakened at 2:00 a.m.   I have a routine for going back to sleep.  Each night I have asked God to show me if there is someone I need to pray for.  I name my children in prayer, wait a few minutes to see if there is someone else, and then I focus on a chapter of scripture I have memorized.  I quote the words and seldom get to the end of the chapter before I am back asleep.

A dozen or so times in my life I have had this supernatural experience, waking up at an exact time in the middle of the night several nights in a row, and I know God wants to tell me something very special.  If I weren’t so busy with stuff, I’m sure He would choose a more reasonable hour.  God stirs my heart and my mind.  A scripture I have quoted for years becomes alive and fresh, and it breathes incredible new life into my mind and emotions, and I can’t wait to wake up in the middle of the night and hear God speaking its words to me as if I have never heard them before!

This week, God has been speaking back to me the words of John 14 as I have whispered them in the darkness.  I felt Thomas’ fear and disappointment as he interrupted Jesus’ speaking.  “Lord, we don’t know where you are going, and how can we know the way?”  There is agony in that question.  The disciples have known the security and comfort of walking with the miracle working Savior face to face.  They assumed that the security and adventure would last a life time.  We never expect our tomorrows to be shaken by death, even though it happens to absolutely everyone!  Perhaps the disciples wish they had listened more closely.  It didn’t seem so important then.  But now, Jesus is announcing His departure, and their fears of the unknown future have caused them to be riveted on every word.

Three disciples interrupt Jesus in this chapter.  Jesus is revealing plainly the salvation plan that will change the universe.  And all three disciples interrupt Him to ask a “What about me” question.  Philip stops him a few verses after Thomas to ask, “Lord, would you show us the Father, and we shall be satisfied.”  They knew they were walking with God face to face.  How could they ask for more!  The answer to his question is so obvious.  Jesus responds gently, “Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me, Philip?”

The third disciple asks Jesus how He would manifest Himself to them and not to the world?  Jesus was explaining the intimacy of oneness with God, as we are in Him, He in the Father, and His Spirit in us.  It didn’t make sense to the disciples to talk about Jesus’ departure, and intimate fellowship with Him all in the same conversation.

I am in a transition time in my life, and I’m afraid I have interrupted God with too many “What about me?” questions in the past few months.  “How are You going to take care of me, Jesus?  What is the way ahead like? Would you please come closer?  Will you help me not to be troubled?  Me…me…me…me…”  Like the disciples in John 14, I have been missing the sweetest and most profound messages of love from the Savior Himself, because I am asking questions that don’t need to be asked of the One who loves me so deeply.  “Hear My words in your soul,” He says gently to me in the night hour.

Let not your heart be troubled…I am the way, the truth and the life.  No man cometh unto the Father but by me…Have I been so long time with you, and yet hast thou not known me?…He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also…And whatsoever ye shall ask in my name, that will I do that the Father may be glorified in the Son…the Comforter will abide with you forever…I will not leave you comfortless:  I will come to you!…But the Comforter…shall teach you all things, and bring all things to your remembrance.  Arise, let us go!

I have heard these glorious words of assurance and instruction as His presence filled my room, and He spoke them to me personally!  My glorious Savior, I have no more questions for You this morning.  Finally, my dull ears are open by Your grace, and I hear Your words in my soul—“I am the way, the truth and the life.”  Thank you for being my life.  Thank you for letting me interrupt You with questions You have already answered.  And thank you for waking me when I am not so apt to strive with my own thoughts.  I have loved being with You in the night!

Jesus Wept

Then said Jesus unto them plainly, Lazarus is dead.  And I am glad for your sakes that I was not there, to the intent ye may believe; nevertheless let us go unto him.  Then said Thomas, which is called Didymus, unto his fellow disciples, Let us also go, that we may die with him. John 11:14-16.

Thomas says out loud the words that most people in grief crisis feel.  “I am ready to die too. I want to be with my loved one again.”   Our pastor pointed out a few weeks ago that pain makes you focused on yourself and the moment, and you must go through pain to have compassion on people who are there.

Oh, how we judge Lazarus’ friend, Thomas!  “That was just Thomas the Doubter,” we say.  “Listen to his overreaction.  I would never be like that.”  But the days turn to weeks, and the grief intensifies.  Though Jesus has come and resurrected our loved one, we are separated by time and space, and we struggle in pain, unable to focus beyond our need to be with him.

Do not judge your grieving friend.  Do not tell her to get on with her life.  She is in pain!  Jesus wept with those who mourned.  Jesus’ weeping is a two word item in the Lazarus story, but it is the detail everybody remembers.  Jesus had no words of condemnation for Thomas.

Let me make a suggestion for those of you who have a friend in grief crisis.  Set aside two hours of your time.  Invite your friend to coffee or lunch or dinner, and ask your friend about the life of his loved one.  Weep with your friend.  Hear the pain and sadness, but you will also begin to hear about the precious gift of life.  The mourner will tell you about good times, and milestones, and deep love.  And the tears you have allowed him to shed will begin to wash away despair.

When a mourner begins to celebrate the life of her loved one, she begins to heal.  Her focus shifts from Thomas’ words “Let us go also that we may die with him,” to the hope of Jesus’ words, “He that liveth and believeth in me shall never die.”  It is a long journey, and if there is no one to mourn with me, I get stuck in the darkness.  Psalm 69 prophesies Jesus’ suffering with these words, “Reproach hath broken my heart; and I am full of heaviness: and I looked for some to take pity, but there was none; and for comforters, but I found none.”  If you will spend time with your mourning friend, you will give the greatest gift.  In your compassion, the Comforter will come whom Jesus promised (John 14:16), and He is there to comfort forever.  What a privilege to open the door to the Comforter for those too focused on their pain to do it themselves!

Bragging On My Father

This afternoon, I will be giving my testimony at the final chapel of the year at Christian Academy.  My theme is “finding courage in the face of disappointment.”  I have been surprised in the days of preparation to realize once again how deeply the lack of relationship with my earthly father affected my life.

My father died 16 years ago.  He lived with me at the time.  My parents had come to visit for a few days, but my father, who was suffering from Alzheimer’s, took a serious fall, and they ended up staying at my home for a year and a half where my mother and I cared for him until he died.   As I fed him, and bathed him, and watched his terrible suffering, I wondered if he ever cared for me when I was a baby.  I let go of all my hopes and dreams that my earthly father would want to know me.  He knew no one at that point in his life.  My Heavenly Father used that year mightily to teach me about His father love that could fill the void I felt so deeply as I cared for this stranger who was my earthly father.

I stepped into Luke 15, and became the son coming home to his father.  My Father longed for my return, watching while I was a great way off.  In overwhelming joy, He runs to me with compassion, falls on my neck, and kisses me.  He declares a party in my honor, and the celebration begins!

And he arose, and came to his father. But when he was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.   And the son said unto him, Father, I have sinned against heaven, and in thy sight, and am no more worthy to be called thy son.  But the father said to his servants, Bring forth the best robe, and put it on him; and put a ring on his hand, and shoes on his feet:  And bring hither the fatted calf, and kill it; and let us eat, and be merry:  For this my son was dead, and is alive again; he was lost, and is found. And they began to be merry!  Luke 15:20-24

I will quote these powerful words today to a young group of teenagers, many of whom long for a father they do not know.  The good news of the gospel is for this generation!  You now have a Father who sings with joy over you (Zephaniah 3:17).  He forgives and heals, He redeems your life from destruction.  He crowns you with loving kindness and tender mercy, and oh, how He satisfies (Psalm 103:1-5).  He is the Father who longs for you, and celebrates your presence in the household (Luke 15).  He personally comforts those who are cast down (II Corinthians 7:6).  His mighty hand will lift you out of your anxiety!  (I Peter 5:6-7)  He is full of grace and mercy (Hebrews 4:16).   He is committed to finishing the work he has begun in you (Philippians 1:6).  He is merciful and gracious and slow to anger (Psalm 103:8)  and I am the apple of His eye! (Deuteronomy 32:10)  He has engraved my name on the palm of His hand (Isaiah 49:16).

Oh, how I love my Father!

Building Blocks Chosen and Precious

As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious,  you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ.   For it stands in Scripture:

“Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone,
a cornerstone chosen and precious,
and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame.”

I Peter 2:4-6 ESV

 A few days ago, I was holding my 13-month-old grandson Caleb and singing to him.  He is 30 heavy pounds of locomotion, and after a few minutes, you must find a way to settle him down, or your arms will fall off!  Singing always works.  I chose a song based on the concluding story Jesus told in the sermon on the mount.  Caleb suddenly stopped jumping and twisting and focused his eyes on my mouth.  Then he put one hand on my cheek, but I kept singing my muffled words as he pushed on one side of my face.  I have his attention and I am enjoying a minute of rest for my aching shoulders!

“The wise man built his house upon the rock…and the rains came tumblin’ down!”  “Caleb,” I exclaimed—“so that’s where Peter and Paul got their idea!  They heard it first from the Lord Himself.”  We living stones, who build God’s house for the world to see, have sometimes set our lives in sand.  And when the rains of death have beaten upon our house, our lives and our witness wash away.   The saddest scene in Christendom is to watch a saint of God allow a root of bitterness to choke out her faith.

Grief and loss come to everyone.  We must be grounded in truth, walking in faith, and feeling the love God lavishes upon us moment by moment. I must build my life on the Cornerstone!  I hugged Caleb’s wiggly body a little closer as I thought about the storms of life we were singing about, and I thanked God that He loves my grandson more than me.  Isaiah describes our Savior like this—“He shall feed his flock like a shepherd: he shall gather the lambs with his arm, and carry them in his bosom, and shall gently lead those that are with young (Isaiah 40:11).  Jesus affirmed his tender love spoken of by Isaiah when he said, “I am the good shepherd, and I lay down my life for my sheep” (John 10:11).

Caleb was finally drifting off to sleep now.  And I held him like a lamb close and warm, while God put his everlasting arms around me, and did the same.

I Saw A Miracle

And Jesus stood still, and commanded him to be called. And they call the blind man, saying unto him, Be of good comfort, rise; he calleth thee.And he, casting away his garment, rose, and came to Jesus.  And Jesus answered and said unto him, What wilt thou that I should do unto thee? The blind man said unto him, Lord, that I might receive my sight.  And Jesus said unto him, Go thy way; thy faith hath made thee whole. And immediately he received his sight, and followed Jesus in the way.  Mark 10:49-52

Yesterday, I shared in a miracle, and the glow of ecstasy still stirs my heart as I think about it.  I wanted to run to the top of a hill and hold both hands in the air and yell, “God, you are so amazing!”  I’m sorry I cannot tell you every detail for the sake of the confidence of my grieving friend.  But I will tell you this.  She was set free, as dramatically as blind Bartimaeus.

When I coach people through grief and loss, they often express a hopelessness about past experiences that are full of pain.  Like Bartimaeus, they sit by the side of the road, unable to be a part of the world that seems to move so quickly about them.  I have a friend in another state who grew up with a mother who injured her by complaining that she was worthless and a burden.  Another young man I know has turned to drugs to kill the pain of growing up with parents in and out of prison.  All he has known are violence and threats in a game of survival he’s not sure he wants to win.  Irresponsible and cruel parenting leaves a child feeling like they are the cause of their parents’ misery.  When the parent dies, the son or daughter must address an intense grief that they think is only the absence of a parent.  But in reality, it is facing the fact that now there is no further opportunity to have a nurturing parent, a happy childhood, and an honest relationship with the person who should have loved them most.

I have described the worst case scenario, but there are many lesser variations.   Good parents can have giant weaknesses.  People who are not totally honest with God and themselves pass on their sin-warped thinking to their children.

Are you one of these children, who grew up to be an adult and parent, feeling consigned to a life of emotional brokenness and unspoken pain?  I offer you a miracle like the one I witnessed yesterday.  Like He did for blind Bartimaeus, Jesus has stopped, stood still, and waited to hear you calling to Him.  It is not a simple or casual calling.  The same chapter where Jesus said, “come unto me all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I wll give you rest,” also says, “the kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force.”  You must have a violent earnestness in your seeking!  When satan and all the world tell you it’s impossible, you must speak and believe the truth that with God, all things are possible.  I know He heals this kind of brokenness.  I experienced it in my life, and I saw it again yesterday.  You now have a father who sings with joy over you (Zephaniah 3:17).  He forgives and heals, He redeems your life from destruction.  He crowns you with loving kindness and tender mercy, and oh, how He satisfies (Psalm 103:1-5).  He is the Father who longs for you, and celebrates your presence in the household (Luke 15).  He personally comforts those who are cast down (II Corinthians 7:6).  His mighty hand will lift you out of your anxiety!  (I Peter 5:6-7)

Yesterday, after a process of weeks of intense honesty and confession before God, my friend heard the words Jesus spoke to Bartimaeus, “Go thy way; thy faith hath made thee whole.”  She saw a glimpse of heaven, and the healing in her parent and herself became clear. I am still celebrating the miracle of God’s healing touch that comforts her in her grief.  If you are mourning the loss of childhood or a broken relationship with one who is gone, I will pray with you, and God will help you to see what He wants for you.  Email me at TheGriefExperience@gmail.com.

Motivation For Life

As it is my eager expectation and hope that I will not be at all ashamed, but that with full courage now as always Christ will be honored in my body, whether by life or by death.  For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.  Philippians 1:20-21 ESV

Paul was far too busy to write things down at the height of his career, so he told his stories to Dr. Luke, who wrote this fascinating, blood and guts novel called the Acts of the Apostles.  Have you read it lately?  I wish there were more details in his vacation travel log.  It is filled with miracles and riots, beating and imprisonment.  Shipwrecks, though by an act of God everybody survived, midnight hymn sings that broke chains and opened prison cells, narrow escapes over city walls in a basket.  I think one story is intentionally brief and lacking details.  Paul was preaching and his terrible fault of long windedness got him into big trouble.  A notable bill-paying parishioner fell asleep and tumbled out of a second story window and broke his neck.  No sermons preached on that text…hmmm…                                                                                                       

I love the stories Luke wrote down about the young adventurous Paul.  I’ve certainly marched off to the mission field for adventure’s sake, but my stories never quite won the “Can you top this?” game when I read the book of Acts.  When I think about Paul, I want to know more than the adventures and narrow escapes.  I wonder why Paul did what he did.  What was his motivation, and what gripped him with a sense of destiny?  What made him endure the suffering that was set before him with joy?  To find out those things, you have to move to the prison letters.  Take Philippians for instance, where Paul says he was lying in prison.  That’s because the prison cells were so small, he couldn’t stand straight up. 

In the first chapter of Philippians, Paul talks about his confined world and its uncertainty, and though he acknowledged not knowing the next turn in the road, he stated with confidence the absolutes in his life. They were what made him a missionary adventurer.  He had one confidence—the truth of the gospel.  It was a truth that motivated Paul to live life with passionate hope, and moved him to reckless boldness.  He dared to dream from a prison cell that the greatness of Christ would shine through him. 

Life is not so different today in our prisons of uncertainty.  Though I am different from other women in this world, I grapple with the same issues—aging, children, jobs, security, grief and loss.  I would dare to wonder if the same truth of the gospel that motivated Paul from a prison cell could motivate me in the twenty-first century to live life overflowing with hope.  Paul’s greatest ministry flowed from a prison cell.  I will thank God for the limitations in my life that focus my soul on things eternal. 

How has the truth of the gospel has changed my life and filled me with peace!

The Power of God

For who hath known the mind of the Lord, that he may instruct him? but we have the mind of Christ.  II Corinthians 2:16

When I get home from work, I walk my dog, a lively and loving young Cocker Spaniel named Daisy Mae.  Thursday, we stepped out on the deck, and suddenly Daisy spotted a rabbit only about twenty yards away.  She bolted.  For a fraction of a second, I was Wonder Woman, flying through the air, missing all three steps off the deck.  Then I was Wiley Coyote, face down and flattened.  I lifted my head and yelled, and immediately Daisy ran back and put her nose on my nose in complete remorse for her rebellion, but the damage was already done.

The sharp pain in my right side worsened through the night, and by Friday, I was working not to shallow breathe, yawning for air, and holding my shoulder to relieve the pressure on my ribs.  I called my daughter for medical advice, and we agreed that the best course of action was to outlive a probable cracked rib.  It was a day of misery, trying to work, trying to breathe, not able to do either one effectively.

I emailed my praying friends, who love me and understand that I’m high maintenance, but they care for me anyway.  I began to wrestle with the spiritual battle that was as clear to me as the pain in my side.  I had prayed for protection—why was this happening?  I thought back over the past couple of weeks and pulled out the sermon outlines—God was clearly speaking to me about His power.  It’s easy to believe in God’s power over the universe, and over nations, and over ultimate destiny, but He is showing me that His power is a moment by moment working in me—personally and thoroughly—in a deeper way than I have ever known.  I cannot help people in intense grief until I believe in the transformational supernatural unlimited no-fear miraculous power of the One who lives in me for HERE AND NOW.

I went to bed, and mostly asleep around 9:15 I remember thinking, “I need to get up and get a thermometer—I have a fever!”  But it wasn’t a normal hot, and it was only on my right side.  It felt like a fluid moving through my head and arm and right lung.  I did not get up.  A violent storm woke me up at midnight, and again in my groggy state, I wondered at the lack of pain in my ribs.  And shortly before sunrise, when I opened my eyes this morning, I realized what happened.  God waited until my mind was at rest so He could minister to my body and spirit.  My mind scrambles for control, and resists the unexplainable.  I know the command to “bring into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ,” (II Corinthians 10:5) but for me, this means surrender—not struggle.  I will not believe in a world without miracles.  I will not accept a God who lives far away.  Lord, touch my mind with a greater miracle than the healing of the body—I want the mind of Christ!

Jesus said unto him, If thou canst believe, all things are possible to him that believeth.  Mark 9:23

Memo to myself:  All means ALL.