For All the Lonely People

"…he himself has said, 'I will never leave you or abandon you.' Therefore, we may boldly say, 'The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What can man do to me?"
‭‭Hebrews‬ ‭13‬:‭5‬-‭6‬ ‭CSB‬‬, quoting Deuteronomy 31:6 and Psalm 118:6

Flame-hued sunset after a stormy afternoon

Are you lonely, friend?

If news headlines and my circle of acquaintances are representative, there's a good chance you are, and I am so sorry. Loneliness causes such heartache in the best of times, and during the holidays it tends to cause even more pain. My heart goes out to you, truly. If you aren't lonely as you read this, it is likely you have been recently or we'll be soon. As Elisabeth Elliot says, we are lonely because we are human. Loneliness entered human life in the garden of Eden, when spiritual death resulting from sin separated Adam and Eve from their first and truest friend, the Lord God who created them.

Chronic illness (and really, any kind of suffering) tend to isolate sufferers and their families.  Holidays may intensify any preexisting loneliness, whether we can't be with our loved ones or feel lonely because of differences or tensions alienating us from the people around us to some degree. We all want someone who truly sees us, knows us, and loves us anyway. Any diminishment or lack of that soothing security can feel lonely, whether we are literally alone or surrounded by people. No human can satisfy that longing fully; hence, loneliness is part of the human experience of walking around with a God-shaped vacuum inside us, an emptiness that can never completely be filled in this life.

How is the Christian to respond to loneliness when it assails us? With heartfelt prayers for your encouragement, I offer four suggestions:

• Lament the losses.
• Let go of my rights, expectations, and any sin in my response.  
• Love the communion of the saints.
• Lean into the fellowship of the Triune God.

First, we may lament the losses that have brought us to this place of isolation and loneliness. Whether loss of health, friends, church, spouse, or job, whether empty nest or prodigal loved ones, whether estrangement and misunderstanding or some combination of all these fuels our loneliness, we can and should lament them.  We grieve because we love. We grieve because it mattered. We grieve our own sins and the sins committed against us that have fractured relationships. Lament is an act of faith that turns toward God in our grief; pours out our complaint honestly to Him who knows it all; asks Him to intervene and heal the brokenness causing us pain; and trusts Him to hear and answer, even if His answer isn't what we want. He loves us and wants us to come to Him in our need. He is not repelled by sorrow and tears and even anger, but catches our tears in His bottle like treasure.

Second, we may let go. We may let go of our right to retaliate at anyone whose sin has contributed to our loneliness. We may need to let go by forgiving others. We may need to let go of our rights and expectations regarding relationships, holidays, and others' treatment of us.  And we may need to let go of our own sinful responses to our loneliness: self-pity, resentment, bitterness, for example. We may need to let go of those things that will only infect our soul's wound and prevent it from healing well and fully.

Third, we may find solace in loving the communion of the saints mentioned in the ancient creed. Have you ever given much thought to that doctrine, beyond your local church fellowship? Prolonged periods of isolation have deepened my understanding of it. God, through the apostle Paul, says, "There is one body and one Spirit--just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call--one Lord, one faith, one baptism, one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all (Ephesians 4:4-6, ESV). Again, in a different letter, God through Paul says, "For in one Spirit we were all baptized into one body--Jews or Greeks, slaves or free--and all were made to drink of one Spirit" (1 Corinthians 12:13, ESV). The one body of Christ, then, comprises all  who belong to the Lord through faith, all in whom the Spirit dwells, all who can rightly call God Father. This is not constrained to one location at one point in time. All the children of God through faith in Christ, throughout all the world, throughout all of time, are united in one body, as we will fully realize in the coming eternal kingdom and must take by faith now. The same spiritual blood and breath unite us, and in that regard we are always in spiritual communion with our brother and sister saints, however alone we may be in body.

Variegated Courage

"Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will hold on to you with my righteous right hand."

Isaiah 41:10 CSB

Courage takes many forms, doesn't it? In certain historical moments, it may mean going into battle to defend your nation. It may mean taking up arms or raising funds or joining a march to aid a beleaguered people across the sea. It may mean running into a burning building or running towards the sound of shots fired in order to protect and serve your community. It can mean, and recently has, risking your life and persevering through exhaustion and burnout to provide medical care to strangers in a pandemic, even though that means no contact with your own family for weeks on end and breaks your heart many times over. 

But courage can also mean getting out of bed this morning and putting one for in front of another in obedience in the face of gale-force trials and seemingly endless heavenly warfare. It can mean leaning hard into the courage and strength of God to enlarge your natural capacity to love and serve as He calls; trusting His manna to be enough for today; giving Him your granola bars and sardines to bless, break, multiply, and give away. It can mean being vulnerable about your pain and risking rejection, or saying, "I can't do this. Will You help me?"

Courage can mean loving your enemies and praying for those who persecute you. It can mean praying for years, for decades, until your last breath, for a prodigal's return from the far country. It can mean speaking uncomfortable truths and working for justice.  It can mean forgiving those who wound you because Christ has forgiven you, and forgiving them whether they ever apologize or repent or not. It can mean dying to your own desires and preferences to love your spouse sacrificially and minister to their weakness.

Courage can mean surrendering a dream to the Lord, knowing that He can turn your circumstances upside-down to fulfill it in this life if He wishes, no matter how improbable that seems. It can mean letting go of a dream permanently for this life, knowing He can fulfill it when His eternal kingdom comes and time, resources, and capacity will not fail us. It can mean saying a risky "yes" to a door He has clearly opened, a calling with His fingerprints all over it, and it can mean saying a trusting "no" to what the world urges as a path to prosperity and happiness, for the sake of better and eternal values.

Courage has as many shades and hues as there are fingerprints. This week for me, courage requires going to a cancer-imaging appointment alone (but not alone, for He is with me) due to COVID restrictions. It means facing an hour in an uncomfortable position and getting an IV, which has often caused me problems in the past. It means the wait in uncertainty for an uncertain amount of time to know results, praying for no recurrence of breast cancer, praying the Lord would keep me on my feet, able to cook and help and drive myself to doctors. Maybe that doesn't seem like much to you, but it's a big enough challenge to this Very Small Animal that I know I need the Lord to show up and show off. 

Consequently, I really appreciated K. J. Ramsay's recent Instagram post on courage, where she wrote, "Courage is not the absence of anxiety but the practice of trusting that we will be held and loved no matter what happens."

No matter what courage looks like for you today, dear Crumble, may you know the inpoured strength of Christ to move forward in obedience even if it scares you. May He supply every single need of yours, today and always, and encourage your courage with some small token that reminds you that He sees you, He is with you, He will not reject you, He will help you, and He will hold you up with His own powerful hand.

Courage, dear hearts.

#courage #hisgraceissufficient #trust #cancersurvivor #chronicillness #spoonie #couragedearhearts

At the Threshold of the Year

 A Reflection on the Year 2021

Sunset at home, 12/31/2021

Unchanging, everlasting God—

El Olam—

Here I kneel

(In spirit though unable in body)

At the threshold between

This year and the next.

Lord, my heart still stings,

Raw from the many griefs of this hard year,

The dreams dashed,

The hopes deferred,

The tears wept,

The trials endured,

The promises broken,

The trust betrayed,

The upheaval wreaking havoc

And revealing where my true trust lies,

The beloved ones lost,

The beloved ones being lost.

(Not on my shoulders,

But in Your hands.)

 

I praise You, Lord,

That hope in You is never deferred.

Your promises always come true,

In every jot and tittle,

No word falling to the ground unfulfilled.

You gave Isaac to Abraham against all odds,

At the exact time You had said.

You brought forth Israel’s deliverer Moses

In the very year promised to

The patriarch generations and centuries before

The heel-snatching twin and

The prime minister of Egypt

Were even twinkles in their fathers’ eyes.

You sent Your people into Babylonian exile,

Then opened the path for their return,

According to the seventy years

Predicted by the prophet Jeremiah

And claimed in prayer by the prophet Daniel.

Messiah was cut off—

Hung on a cross,

Pierced with nails and spear,

Buried in a rich man’s tomb—

In the precise way

At the precise kairos hour

You foretold through Your faithful

Isaiah, David, and Daniel.

He, Messiah, rose on the third day,

Just as He promised His disciples

And according to the sign of Jonah.

You poured out Your Spirit on Your children

At Pentecost, the Feast of Weeks,

An outpouring Joel had prophesied

And Jesus had promised.

 

You place Your bow in the clouds today,

Again and again the rainbow,

Noah’s sign in the skies,

That storm and flood may

Rage and thunder, but never again

Will they prove the end of us

And of this beautiful, terrible planet we love so.

Heaven and earth will flee away in Your appointed time,

But not through the agency of

Himalayan-drowning, Rocky-gouging floods.

Rescue will again come,

But not through an ark of wood to carry

Families of men and animals over the waves.

Rescue will come and has come,

Through the Lamb Jesus slain on a cross of wood,

To bear the sin of those who trust Him

And give to them His righteousness,

And the priceless pearl of

Adoption as sons and daughters of God.

 

We have Your Word

(And You cannot lie),

Your covenant oath,

Your history of impossible promises fulfilled;

We have the daily signs of

Morning and evening, assuring us

Of Your unfailing steadfast love,

And Your interminable, limitless mercies.

Great is Your faithfulness!

 

Even in all the wounds and brokenness

This year has wrought, like

Floodwaters carving up our own stony hearts,

Forbid it, Lord, that I should fail

To recognize Your gracious consolations.

You were in the desolations,

Though I perceived You not,

And You were in the consolations,

The sweet blessings that strengthened weak hands

And made firm feeble knees.

Thank You, Promise Keeper, Almighty God,

For Your presence in all our tribulations,

For Your Word in every need,

For every drop of anguish that amplifies our need of You;

For the lives spared,

For the service You enabled,

For the hours of hymns sung through masks to a dying woman,

For the yarn crafted into comfort, love, and help;

For unearthing happy memories,

For times spent in Your glorious creation,

For open doors of opportunities;

For reunion with loved ones after months of separation,

For sisters biological and spiritual,

For Your servants newly consecrated with laying on of hands

And prayer,

For technology bringing distant teaching, worship, and celebration

To my kitchen and my comfortable chair;

For unexpected, miniscule health progress,

For clear cancer scans,

For milestone celebrations;

For the miracle of monarch metamorphosis

Observed in all its stages,

Your profuse, offhand wonder

Passing unnoticed myriad times a day until

The serendipity of scrutiny from

A vantage point of inches.

“Lord of all, to Thee we raise

This our joyful hymn of praise.”

 

These happy eucharisteos also

We lay upon Your altar;

This weight of blessing,

As much as the weight of sorrow,

We roll into Your strong, pierced hands.

For the glad things and the sad things,

We love You, trust You, praise You.

(Not on my shoulders,

But in Your hands.)

Bandage our wounds

And revive our hearts with

Hope and joy from You for the year ahead.

You have gone before us

And will meet us there,

For Jesus’ sake.

 

Amen.

 

12-31-21

Courage

"Grace" may be my word for the year 2020, but "courage" is without a doubt my word for the decade of the 2010s.  By nature I am not brave; I always identified with Piglet, the Very Small Animal of the Pooh stories. Through the many dangers, toils, and snares of the decade nearing its end, however, it seems that God intends to teach me courage if it kills me. (Kidding. Kind of. Maybe not.)

In a recent Joni and Friends podcast episode, Joni Eareckson Tada commented that you don't learn to swim on dry land, and you don't learn patience without something to endure. Similarly, you don't learn courage in green pastures and still waters. You learn courage in the valley of the shadow of death, with the wolves howling nearby. You learn courage in the middle of the sea with waves swamping your boat and no land in sight.

You learn courage in the days when you wake up thinking, "I can't keep going. I have to keep going. Lord, keep me going. Courage, dear heart."

And He does.

I am learning that courage is foremost a person, specifically the person of Jesus Christ. He faced down fear that caused Him to sweat blood at Gethsemane. He could have destroyed the Roman and Jewish leaders without strain, but He displayed the courage to submit to flogging, mocking, a crown of thorns on his head, nails in His hands and feet, stripped-bare humiliation, and the agony of death by asphyxiation on the cross. He chose all of that because it was the only way to wipe out the sins of wretches like me. And that supremely, sublimely courageous one dwells in me and in all who trust Him. His courage is my courage.

I need to read that again: He who is courage lives in me. His courage is my courage.

I am learning, second, that courage is rooted in the promises of the God who cannot lie. The God who reveals Himself in the Christian Scriptures does not change His mind. He does not make promises and then forget them. He does not give up when He realizes I'm not worth it. (He knows I'm not and loves me anyway.) His promises light up like neon signs when we go to His Word in desperate need. If you don't know where to go, try Romans 8, Psalm 23, 27, 46, or 91, Isaiah 40, Isaiah 41:10, Isaiah 43:2, Ephesians 1, John 10, 14, 15, and 16, 2 Corinthians 12:7-10, and on and on. In 33 years of walking with God, I have yet to find a need without a promise to match it.

I am learning, finally, that courage is a plodding path forward in the will of God, no matter how much my knees and ankles tremble in my hiking boots and braces. As the saying goes, it doesn't have to be a big step; it just needs to be a step in the right direction. "Courage is not the absence of fear; courage is fear walking" (Susan David). What is my next right thing? What is yours? Lord, grant us grace to do that, knowing You go with us and dwell in us to enable us to do Your will and be conformed to the image of Christ (Romans 8:29).

Lord, it feels like You are inviting all of us in this storm of a year to grow in courage. In some area or other, or maybe many at once, I suspect that everyone reading this feels a Very Small Animal. And sometimes we feel ashamed of that fear. Thank You for being our Very Big God, for being with us, for being for us, for empowering us to walk in Your will even when we're afraid, for picking us up when we fall, for wiping our tears when we fail miserably and come running back to You. Strengthen us with Your Spirit to become more like Your Son in every way, including His courage. When we feel afraid, let us trust in You. Mark our lives with Your fingerprints, that the watching world may see Christ in us and want to know You. In Jesus' name I pray. Amen.

Endure: 5-Minute Friday

Endure:

The very word evokes

Teeth gritted in determination,

Toughing it out.

I don't even need to unclench my jaw

To spit out the word.

Hupomeno, though:

The Bible word begins with an exhale,

Tells a different story--

To remain under,

To stay and not flee,

To hold fast and not retreat,

To dwell under the yoke with Christ

And not to look for shortcuts,

Escape routes.

Will I pitch my tent

In the barren waste of wilderness

Because the pillar of Shekinah glory fire

Hovers overhead

And warms the night?

Will I step into the raging furnace

And let the Fourth Man

Loose my bonds

And companion me there?

Will I abide in the fiery trials

Without numbing,

With surrender

And submission,

For the sake of knowing better

The fellowship of His sufferings?

Will I pray,

"Thy will be done,"

Though it cost me bloody sweat

And a cross of pain,

Rejection,

Derision?

Will I trust Him enough

To wait

And stay

And listen

And watch for His appearing?

Lord Jesus,

Make a way out of the desert,

Flames,

Gethsemane,

Quickly, if You will;

And grant me the courage to endure

With patience

And hope

Until You show Yourself strong

For those whose hearts are completely Yours.

A Puritan’s Encouragements to Courage

“Seek to do the following to heighten our Christian courage:

(1) Resign all to God.

(2) Set your faith on the promise that assures us that God will sanctify all of our troubles (Rom. 8:28).

(3) Consider that God’s presence is with us in all of our troubles (Ps. 119:15).

(4) He moderates our troubles to the measure and degree they are bearable [but not in our own strength, only in His] (Isa 27:8).

(5) We will know a safe and comfortable deliverance from them at least (Rev. 7:17).

With these considerations we may recover our hearts out of the hands of our fears again, and return them to a quiet and sweet satisfaction in the wise and holy pleasure of our God.”

~John Flavel

Sinking Fits

"Christians may sometimes have their sinking fits. And though the depths of calamity into which the godly may fall may be as deep as hell, yet this is our great comfort—the mercy of God lies even deeper! 'For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord' (Rom. 8:38-39). However, this is hard to grasp for those who are sinking and smartingly feel all of God's waves and billows rolling over them. But whether they see it or not, God's blessing lies ready to pounce like a lion upon the sinking soul. God's everlasting arms are undergirding you in your deepest extremities. His arms are strong and long, and can reach to the bottom beyond all misery and distress that Christians are subject to in this life. Indeed, mercy seems to be asleep when we are sinking, but it will awaken in time for our help! God will arise at the fittest season to help and deliver his sinking people."

John Bunyan

Cowboy Up, Christian!

Be watchful,

stand firm in the faith,

act like men,

be strong.

1 Cor. 16:13, ESV

Falling as those commands do in the final chapter of 1 Corinthians, they are not directed to husbands or young men, but to the whole church in Corinth. The Greek word which constitutes the third command is andrizomai. Essentially, it turns the noun "man" into a verb: "to (be a) man."  The ESV and NASB translate, "Act like men." The CSB and NIV say, "Be courageous." The J. B. Phillips paraphrase exhorts, "Live like men." The Message paraphrase says. "Give it all you've got." In English, a soldier would say, "Man up!" A Texan would say, "Cowboy (or -girl) up!"

The ESV Study Bible notes that, in the ancient Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, this word frequently occurs in "contexts encouraging people to act with courage and strength in obedience to the Lord and with confidence in his power (see Deut. 31:6-7, 23; Josh. 1:6-7, 9; 10:25; 1 Chron. 28:20; Ps. 27:14)."

Perhaps you, like me, look around at your circumstances and inward at yourself and ask, "How in this mess am I supposed to cowgirl up when I'm shaking in my boots?" To that, I first start speaking truth to myself, "Courage is not the absence of fear. Courage is fear walking" (Susan David, in her TED Talk "The Gift and Power of Emotional Courage). Again, "Courage is the resolve to face a fearful threat. And courage is fueled by hope--a hope in something stronger than what we fear" (Jon Bloom, "Be a Human Infusion of Hope", accessed 8:23 AM, CDT, Aug. 17, 2015). Merriam-Webster Online defines courage as "mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty." Courage or "manning up," then, is not the opposite of fear but the resolve to move towards God and His will in spite of our fear.

More importantly, I search the Scriptures listed in that ESV note for principles that would fuel hope and courage in me, even in fearful times:

• Man up, Christian, because YHWH is with you and will not leave you in the lurch.
  
  "Be strong and courageous. Do not fear or be in dread of them, for it is the Lord your God who goes with you. He will not leave you or forsake you” (Deut. 31:6).
  
  Then David said to Solomon his son, “Be strong and courageous and do it. Do not be afraid and do not be dismayed, for the Lord God, even my God, is with you. He will not leave you or forsake you, until all the work for the service of the house of the Lord is finished. (1 Chron 28:20).
  
• Man up because YHWH keeps His promises.
  
  Then Moses summoned Joshua and said to him in the sight of all Israel, “Be strong and courageous, for you shall go with this people into the land that the Lord has sworn to their fathers to give them, and you shall put them in possession of it. It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed.” (Deu.t 31:7-8).
  
  And the Lord commissioned Joshua the son of Nun and said, “Be strong and courageous, for you shall bring the people of Israel into the land that I swore to give them. I will be with you" (Deut. 31:23).
  
• Man up because you are obeying God's call and Word.
  "Be strong and courageous, for you shall cause this people to inherit the land that I swore to their fathers to give them. Only be strong and very courageous, being careful to do according to all the law that Moses my servant commanded you. Do not turn from it to the right hand or to the left, that you may have good success wherever you go" (Josh. 1:6-7).
  
• Man up because today's victory will be tomorrow's courage when the LORD fights for you.
  
  And Joshua said to them, “Do not be afraid or dismayed; be strong and courageous. For thus the Lord will do to all your enemies against whom you fight” (Josh. 10:25).
  
  Wait for the Lord;
  be strong, and let your heart take courage;
  wait for the Lord! (Ps 27:14).

We serve a God who delights to turn Very Small Animals like Piglet and me into mighty warriors for His kingdom. The roots of such courage lie not in our strength but in the character of our God. May He grant us grace to put boots on our fear and walk forward anyway. May He keep reminding us of these and similar truths to preach to ourselves when fear tries to bully us into backing down from obedient faith. Courage, dear hearts!

"Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take;

The clouds ye so much dread

Are big with mercy and shall break

With blessings on your head."

~William Cowper

(a poet who himself struggled with disabling anxiety and depression),

"God Moves in a Mysterious Way"

"With": Advent Joy {Steinway Parable}

Saturday morning I dreamed of Steinway, my beloved dog of 16 years, my first dog, the dog the Lord used to help me heal from a season of deep brokenness. In the dream, I was the 2017 me, with my current level of joint pain and limitation; Steinway was the old dog and full of days, circa 2008. He wanted me to lift him onto my lap, but he was too heavy for me. With immense effort, he made the jump and snuggled up between my leg and the arm of the chair. As is usual for me, the dream was in color; as is not so usual for me, I could feel the weight of him and touch his fur. The only other thing I remember of the dream is that we were at my husband's parents' home, and it was full of people, as it was for the two memorial services this year. We had taken Steinway with us because he was too frail to be left with anyone else.

I woke missing him more than I have in a long time.

The memories of his final months came rushing back. This loyal dog, who had awakened in the night with me so many times when illness or jet lag or simple insomnia took me from bed, would wake almost every night between 2 and 3 am. He would find his way to the living room and then start yelping with enough insistence to wake me up.

Sometimes he needed to go outside and was telling me the only way he knew. Most of the time, though, I think he was lonely and afraid. A Bible study friend suggested that dogs could develop dementia like people do, and perhaps his days and nights were mixed up.

Whatever the reason, he was unable to soothe himself and go back to sleep without help. I would pick him up and do the rock-and-bounce walk known to all parents and babysitters until his ragged breathing slowed and he began to calm down. "It's okay. I'm here. You're okay," I would whisper.

When he was calm enough, we would lie down on the sofa, me on my back, Steinway on my chest like an infant, my arms around him, stroking his fur. There we would stay until we both fell asleep. Unaccustomed to sleeping on my back, I would wake after half an hour, give or take, and oh so carefully rise and carry him back to his bed in Amore's and my room.

One night when I was unhappy to be awakened and growing impatient with Steinway's needs, the Lord reminded me that this was the least I could do for the dog who had done so much for me, and that my days with him were numbered. Soon I would long for that middle-of-the-night closeness and the weight of my puppyface in my arms.

And then He showed me the parable in the experience. If I, being evil, sacrificed sleep and came at the sound of my dog's frightened cry, how much more can I trust that the Lord hears and heeds the cries of His blood-bought daughter? How much more will He console and comfort? How much more will He be with me in the dark nights of my soul?

That's where Advent joy comes in. The "good news of great joy" the angel announced to the shepherds was that a Savior, a Rescuer, had been born for them (Luke 2:8-14). Yahweh their God had seen their sins and oppression and heard their cries, and He had come Himself to rescue them. He had entered their affliction as a baby, but this baby was the virgin-born Immanuel whom Isaiah foretold: "God with us" (Matt. 1:22; Isaiah 7:14). In the apostle John's words, this baby was the Word who became flesh and tabernacled among us (John 1:14). This baby was the "consolation of Israel" for whom Simeon waited in the temple (Luke 2:25).

The good news of "God with us," right in the middle of our mess and sin, in the middle of the night, in affliction, in the cries of our hearts--that is the beginning of Advent joy. His presence is the joy and comfort of the people He has redeemed. How shall we respond?

Shout for joy, you heavens!

Earth, rejoice!

Mountains break into joyful shouts!

For the LORD has comforted his people,

and will have compassion on his afflicted ones (Isaiah 49:13).

Charles H. Spurgeon's comments on these promises from Isaiah call us to worship and wonder at the Lord's compassion on His afflicted ones:

Isaiah's joy was too great for him to give adequate expression to it with his own solitary tongue, so he called on the great mountainous masses of inanimate nature to express the greatness of God's love and tender mercy in comforting his people. And, when we come to think of it rightly, we see at once that it is a theme for wonder, worthy of the consideration of heaven and earth that the infinite God should stoop so low as to comfort finite and fallible creatures such as we are. Were there no more worlds to be created? Were there no other deeds of power and glory to be performed so that he must come to this poor earth to comfort the sick, the sad, and the sorrowing? The Lord is great in the majesty of his power, but he is equally great in the condescending character of his love and compassion. After Jehovah's great creative works were done, the creation must not be slack in its music when his condescending works are done also--when from the highest heavens he stoops to those in deepest woe to lift them up from their sins and sorrows by the power of his eternal compassion.

Dear Crumbles, does this Advent find you, perhaps, not feeling the joy the carols proclaim? Does the call to rejoice feel like one more burden too heavy to bear?

Then cry out to your Master and Savior. Cry to Him, and keep crying until the Comforter ministers grace to your heart.  Meditate on the wonder that "the infinite God should stoop so low as to comfort finite and fallible creatures such as we are." Consider the greatness of "the condescending character of his love and compassion." Dare to believe the good news of Christmas, that "from the highest heavens he stoops to those in deepest woe to lift them up from their sins and sorrows by the power of his eternal compassion." Seek Him in the Scriptures, in prayer, in His people, and He will be found by you. Lean into Him; lay all the weight of yourself and your concerns on Him, and let Him comfort you. Rest in the reality of "God with us," of "God with you," and let His presence be your joy.

Father of mercies, comfort our afflictions. Amen.

The Gift Nobody Wants

Before me rests a package, a gift.

The tag clearly reads my name,

But what a gift:

Wrapped in sandpaper,

Encrusted with glittering bits of broken glass,

Bound carefully with a bow of thorns and brambles.

Who wants to open such a gift?

Yet the tag reads just as clearly,

“From your heavenly Father.”

He is good;

He does good.

Will I trust Him enough to accept the abrasions, the lacerations,

The wounds this gift will cost?

Or will I refuse, rebel, reject?

Trust Me, He says.

The treasure is worth the pain,

More than worth it.

The momentary, light affliction

Of opening your gift

Is opening to you an eternal weight of glory

As far beyond comparison with the pain

As hyperbole times hyperbole.

Knowing Christ in the power of His resurrection

Requires learning to know Him in communion with His suffering,

Yet the knowledge gained surpasses the preciousness

Of a thousand-carat diamond,

A hundred-pound pearl.

He took the sharpest thorns,

The roughest edges,

The bloodiest brambles.

Will I trust Him by receiving His gift?

If there’s any other way to claim the treasure, Lord,

Rewrap it in soft leather,

In satin ribbon.

Yet—

If not,

Thy will be done.

“These little troubles (which are really so transitory) are winning for us a permanent, glorious and solid reward out of all proportion to our pain. For we are looking all the time not at the visible things but at the invisible. The visible things are transitory: it is the invisible things that are really permanent” (2 Cor. 4:17-18, J.B. Phillips New Testament).

When Providence Serves Up More Than You Can Chew {The Wren and the Peanut}

Since the Friday before Valentine's Day, my hips have joined the joint pain party with bursitis. A pair of injections helped one hip some but the other not at all. Imaging confirmed that nothing more serious is going on, which is good, but for now we're in waiting mode. Rest and ice are my best friends, and it's painful to stand, walk, or drive very long. Some days are so much better I feel encouraged that maybe I've turned a corner. Then I wake up the next day or stand too long fixing breakfast and getting ready and that progress is gone again. We don't even clearly know what caused this since there were no traumas to the area, but the working theory is that autoimmune disease is making my connective tissue very easily irritated and slow to heal.

(Oh, and I probably failed to mention that I dislocated the right side of my jaw. Biting down on a piece of chocolate. Yes, really. Thankfully, that has improved a great deal with a soft diet and significant adjustments to my bite splint that's normally only for sleep.)

As with my other joint problems, at this point the situation is "not serious, just painful." Even knowing that, the slower pace and increased limitations have triggered a fair amount of anxiety, especially since the other challenges in our extended family and with my previous problem joints continue. The Lord keeps stripping away my healthy coping mechanisms--yarncraft, piano, walking--so here I am writing to you. (Sorry about that.)

One morning when I was hurting and feeling discouraged, a little Carolina wren came to visit our back porch. I so enjoy these little birds, especially when they sing, but they are not regular guests at our feeders. That makes them the more precious when they come.

This one on this day settled down to work on something down on the concrete between the door and the feeder. He certainly seemed busy, but what was he foraging for there on the concrete? They don't eat leaves. Were there tiny bugs in the leaves?

Then I saw it: a peanut! When the woodpeckers visit the feeder, they pull beakfuls of seed out of the ports until they get the peanuts they like best. The smaller birds are intimidated by that woodpecker but quick to come and forage among his discards once he leaves. Somehow, this peanut escaped the notice of both the woodpecker and all the scavengers, and the wren won out.

Little bird, big peanut. I trained my camera on him and watched to see how my wren friend would manage this. Would he give up and eat the smaller, easier seeds instead? No, not at all.

With painstaking patience, the wee bird arched back his head like a rearing horse, swung his body forward to spear the legume with his sharp beak, and proceeded to pound it on the concrete until a small piece broke off. Then he would eat that tiny morsel and spear the rest again.

Like a mason breaking apart a rock with hand tools, the wren chipped away at his prize, his persistence slowly paying off. Fascinated, I watched for 5 minutes, until a blue jay swooped in and spooked the smaller bird into abandoning its breakfast.

His diligence in this too-large task reminded me of the old joke about eating an elephant (though who would want to?):

How do you eat an elephant?

One bite at a time.

Crumbles, right now it often feels like the Lord in His providence has served us an elephant, or that we're wrens trying to eat a plate of peanuts. The challenges seem too big and too many, and new ones keep piling on without the removal of any of the old. It's overwhelming when I look at the pile. So very many things beyond our strength. So very many things to entrust to the Lord.

And now we have taken on another challenge, and it's a big one. Lord willing, we are moving out of Wits' End at the end of this month and into a home nearer my parents. The long-term goal is worth the short-term cost, and we believe the Lord has led us to this step. Still, it's a pretty daunting challenge for the little bird writing to you, and we are very grateful for those the Lord leads to pray for us in this transition.

Remembering this petite bird helps me press on, and I pray it does you also. The Lord doesn't call me to eat the plate of peanuts all at once. I ask, "What one small thing does He want me to do right now?" Then I seek His grace to do that one next thing (preferably without hurting myself), act in obedient faith and the strength He gives, and thank Him for the grace.

What next? How?
Grace, Lord!
Trust and obey.
Thank You, Lord.

And repeat.

Always, always, in this process I am learning to preach the gospel truth and promises of God to my heart when I feel anxious and overwhelmed about our challenges.

"We must do what we cannot do with what we do not have, but He will do through us what He can do with what He does have."

"Courage, dear heart!"

Feelings lie, but God's Word doesn't:

"Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand" (Isaiah 41:10). 

"And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work" (2 Cor. 9:8).

"Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words" (Romans 8:26). 

"It is the Lord who goes before you. He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you. Do not fear or be dismayed" (Deut. 31:8). 

"Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might he increases strength" (Isaiah 40:28-29).

"But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me" (2 Cor. 12:9).

May you find encouragement here to press on in your own challenges, dear Crumble. The Lord will not fail to give you grace for the portion He assigns to you. May He keep us mindful and diligent to preach the gospel to ourselves and our sisters and brothers in Christ. May He grant us grace today to glorify His name by accomplishing the work He gives us to do and has prepared for us beforehand (John 17:4, Eph. 2:10).

Courage, dear hearts! If walking with the Lord (or crawling or being carried...) these 30 years has taught me anything it is that He is much bigger, kinder, stronger, and wiser than we want to need to discover that He is. The Lord is good. His steadfast love and faithfulness endure forever.

As a Sheep Resting in Shepherd's Care

So Jesus again said to them, “Truly, truly, I say to you, I am the door of the sheep. All who came before me are thieves and robbers, but the sheep did not listen to them. I am the door. If anyone enters by me, he will be saved and will go in and out and find pasture. The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly. I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them. He flees because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep. I am the good shepherd. I know my own and my own know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father;and I lay down my life for the sheep. And I have other sheep that are not of this fold. I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice. So there will be one flock, one shepherd. For this reason the Father loves me, because I lay down my life that I may take it up again. No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord. I have authority to lay it down, and I have authority to take it up again. This charge I have received from my Father.”

John 10:7-18, ESV

"And now, O timid soul, be at rest! The blood-red brand which is upon you is a sure token that you are safe. He cannot have done so much for you to lose you now. In all moments of peril or dread, softly murmur His name, Jesus! Jesus! and He will at once comfort you by His presence and by His voice, which all the sheep know; and this shall be His assurance: 'My sheep shall never perish, neither shall any man pluck them out of My hand' (John 10:28).

"Hand over to Him all that breaks the stillness of your spirit, though it be but a gnat sting; and take from Him His own deep sweet rest."

~The Shepherd Psalm, F. B. Meyer, Kindle locations 271 and 305

Perseverance

Sing, heart within me, though no shout ascendeth,
No trumpet soundeth on this battlefield.
Yet sing, my heart, O sing the Grace that lendeth
Courage to stand thy ground and not to yield.

Not in me, Lord, Thou knowest, was there ever
Strength to endure, or any fortitude.
Now in the silence, come--for I would never
Miss Thy bright Presence, walk in solitude.

Broken my sword--what use a weapon broken?
Yet with that broken blade till set of sun
I fain would fight. O blessed be the token--
The secret token saith: Fight on! Fight on!
~Amy Carmichael, Mountain Breezes

Juneau Town {Lone Star to Last Frontier, 2015}

For the backstory, please see the post, "Courage, Dear Heart!" This post is mostly photos, so e-mail readers may prefer to view the Web version of Juneau Town {Lone Star to Last Frontier, 2015}.


Of the Alaskan ports we visited last year, Juneau was our clear favorite, both for the town itself and for our whales-and-glacier excursion. Upon first introduction, the state capital with a small-town feel was shrouded in mystery.

Once ashore, the public art, flowers, and buildings old and old-fashioned charmed us immediately.

We didn't go inside, but Wyatt Earp's gun reportedly hangs over the bar here.

Sculpture adorning the public library

The streets of Juneau were full of flowers.

Then we met and fell a little in love with Patsy Ann. "Who is that?" you ask. Technically, we didn't meet her, but we did visit her memorial and read her story.

The English bull terrier Patsy Ann lived in the days before ship-to-shore radios and clockwork schedules provided details of ships' arrivals and docking plans. Although born deaf, she somehow knew not only when a ship drew within half a mile of the shore but also where it would dock. The sailors learned to let her guide their preparations. The sign next to her statue said that when she died, a small crowd watched as her coffin was lowered into the channel near where the statue now stands.

Juneau displayed a sense of humor we appreciated, too.

"Established: A Long Time Ago"

What's more, three of life's essentials were available in the main downtown area: coffee, books, and fudge.

This local roaster sells the best dark roast we've ever had: Black Gold.

Mom and I visited the lobby of the state capitol building, but renovations had closed it to visitors.

Meanwhile, Dad and Amore hiked up the hill a ways to visit the oldest Russian Orthodox church in North America, named for St. Nicholas.

If I should forget all the rest of the town of Juneau's appeal, however, this last experience is the one I would wish to keep. Before gathering at the meeting point for the whale-watching excursion, we ascended the Mount Roberts Tramway.

You recall, of course, how mist-veiled and overcast the city was throughout the morning. As the tram climbed, we broke through those clouds, and glory greeted us.

The brilliant blue sky and sunshine had been present all along, but we couldn't see them looking from below the clouds. We had to move through them and gain a higher perspective to see the light.

At the time and often since, even this week, this has vividly illustrated to me an aspect of the Christian's earthly life. In some seasons, our souls are overcast and all we see are mist and clouds and grey from horizon to horizon. Life may feel bereft of color and light. At least, that's all we see and feel if we're looking around at our circumstances and up to the limits of our human vision.

If we enter the "tram" of God's Word, however, it shifts our perspective up, breaking through the clouds to behold heavenly spiritual realities. The Holy Spirit shows us the sun is still shining, the mountain peaks still stand, and the color and beauty are still real and present, even when we can't see them from below.

The apostle Paul wrote of this phenomenon in his letters:

If then you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things that are above, not on things that are on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life appears, then you also will appear with him in glory (Colossians 3:1-4 ESV).

For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal (2 Corinthians 4:17-18 ESV).

Feelings and sight can yell so loudly that this seems impossible. It does require effort and intentionality, but the effort to yield our earthbound perspective to the Lord's eternal one in Scripture will not go unrewarded. Even brief, regular glimpses of the truth and glory hidden in the living and written Word can sustain us through the mists and clouds.

If you too are in a grey season, dear Crumble, may the Lord encourage you and fortify your spirit to set your mind on things above, on the glorious, unseen, eternal realities of life "hidden with Christ in God."