Tag: healing

We Could Ask the Flowers

On By Charis PsalloIn Uncategorized12 Comments

IMG_8967 winter geranium full

I still had some flowers in the garden on Sunday, but by Wednesday the blossoms bowed under the snow — frozen solid. I hate to see the flowers die. I grieve for them every autumn.

My granddaughter, a few weeks before her fourth birthday, made a profound observation about the flowers dying. It was profound, because only a few weeks later her Daddy lay dying.

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This is what her Mommy wrote:

Every time I left Bruce, I felt like I left half of me at the hospital. It felt wrong to leave him, like my being there would somehow make all the difference, but every time I was at the hospital, I felt like I should be at home with my children, making life feel as normal as possible, playing and laughing so they wouldn’t have to be worried about Daddy. No matter where I was, I didn’t feel like I was in the right place…

My kids never knew the severity of what was going on. At two months, two-and-a-half years, and barely four years old, I didn’t think it would be good for them to know that Daddy could die.

I recalled a conversation Keziah and I had shared not long after baby Vivia was born. A warm chinook wind had peeled back the blanket of snow in the park, and we were able to get outside for a little stroll. As we walked past an old flower bed, she looked up at me and said, “We don’t know what it feels like to be dead. That’s a’cause we’ve never been dead before so we don’t know how it feels.”

She looked at me for agreement. I nodded.

She went on, “And if you’re dead, then you’re dead and you can’t tell anyone a’cause you’re dead.”

She paused and thought about it for a few minutes, while shuffling her heavy winter boots down the sidewalk.

“But maybe we could ask the flowers a’cause they die every winter so they know how it feels…Too bad they don’t have mouths, or they would prolly tell us!”

I remember thinking at the time, What three-year old thinks about death? And now I wondered, What three-year old thinks about being raised from something that looks like death?

-from While He Lay Dying by Bruce and Lara Merz  (available here)

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Perplexed

On By Charis PsalloIn Animals, Photography17 Comments

IMG_8543 frazzled goose ch

I’ve been going through a bit of a molt lately. I think we all do that once in a while. It involves the shedding of  parts of ourselves which were once effective, and perhaps even attractive, if I may say so myself, but now this time of examining which ideas to keep and which to shed has left me in a somewhat frazzled state. I feel a lot like this goose I met in the park the other day. The other geese seemed to have it all together, but this one seemed just a little, well, perplexed…

Yeah. Perplexed. Not where I thought I would be as the next season approaches. But I am here anyway – disheveled, unfashionable, decidedly non-trendy and not at all prepared to fly in formation.

Pardon my appearance. Molting (or going through a spiritual “ponfar” -Trekkie reference) can be a little embarrassing. I’m apt to “lose it” at the most inconvenient times, and frankly I don’t even know if I agree with myself half the time.

But change is like that. Sometimes the hardest part is having grace for ourselves when our own inconsistencies and partially formed concepts frazzle our own nerves, let alone the people around us.

Thanks for your patience. You are very gracious, my friends.

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But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.  We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair;  persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed… (2 Corinthians 4:7-9)

 

You Raise Me Up

On By Charis PsalloIn Photography, Trees and forests6 Comments

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I heard crying from the room my two little grandchildren shared whilst on vacation. They were supposed to be sleeping. When I opened the door to see what was going on the little guy immediately gave his defense:

“She hit my head really hard, like this!” Then he thumped his head dramatically with a closed fist.

“But honey, now you have hit your own head,” I said.

“Yeah, but she started it!”

Today the Lord has reminded me how I have perpetuated some of the attacks on my own head long after insensitive, wounded, well-meaning-but-mistaken, or even downright nasty people have hurt me with words. I remember word variations of the shame-on-you theme of my childhood and thump my own head with them sometimes. When someone calls me on it, I give an explanation of why I am not at rest. This is my history; this is where the idea came from that I am not smart enough, not pretty enough, not hard working enough, not ________ enough. I rehearse the injury and end up hurting myself yet again.

Abba says, “Who told you that?” (He asked a similar question of Adam and Eve who hid in shame, “Who told you you’re naked?”)

Guilt says “I did something wrong” and can lead to the kind of sorrow that makes us want to change. Shame says “I am something wrong,” for which there is no recourse but to hide -or perhaps blame. Shame tells me I will not be okay until the world changes -until the territorial big sisters of the world are no longer a threat.

God’s solution (if I don’t hide from him)  is to raise me up to his perspective, and tell me who he sees when he looks at me. He tells me I am of great worth to him and that he loves me so much he freely provided a way for all that shame to be lifted off -by bearing the shame himself on the cross.

He didn’t start it, but he ended it when he proclaimed, “It is finished.”

Thank you, Lord. You  give me wings to fly. You raise me up to all that I can be .

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While He Lay Dying

On By Charis PsalloIn Music, Photography, Sky10 Comments

I’ve been helping (in a small capacity) my daughter and our beloved son-in-law write their story. The book is titled While He Lay Dying and is the story of one little family in a small city who saw the love of God through the worst circumstances, as a young husband and father lay comatose, and on life support, his body shut down from toxic shock after contracting flesh-eating disease. The odds of his surviving were 0%. For a long time he lingered as near to death as his doctors had ever seen in a person who survived. His recovery was nothing short of miraculous. There were angel sightings, reconciliations, revelations, heart-healings and far too many co-incidences to be co-incidences, but it was not an easy time. Every day our emotions rode a roller coaster.

Going through proofs with them has stirred up a lot of feelings for me. They tell their story honestly, candidly and dare to boast in the lessons God showed so many during that time, as tens of thousands around the world joined to pray with perseverance for the life of one man. A physician on the team also contributes his account of witnessing this event and a pastor shares profound insights that are significant for the universal Church –the Body of Christ.

I am overwhelmed that the Lord allowed me to be a part of this story, and even though I like to think I am a writer, words fail me. Today I use some of my images to describe the feelings of those days with music by Vitali.


 

From the Foreword by Bishop Todd Atkinson:

Jesus trusted His Father and gave Himself over to death on the cross,
Then followed a long Friday night and a long Saturday…
And while he lay in the grave, His followers asked,
“What was that all about?”

For some of you it’s been a long wait…
Something died years ago.
Some part of your faith died.
Some part of your hope died.
Some promise you were holding on to died.
We cannot raise ourselves out of that…

But we’ve got a Father who is able to.

Doubting It

On By Charis PsalloIn Just folks, Photography, Trees and forests1 Comment

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“Doubt is not always a sign that a man is wrong; it may be a sign that he is thinking.”
— Oswald Chambers

I’ve met lovely, honest people who tell me that they wish they could believe in a loving God of grace, but it is a struggle for them. I’ve also met people who believe in God but are not sure that Jesus Christ is the only way to make contact with him. I’ve met people who believe that Jesus is real and He was willing to lay down his life for them, but they don’t want to get close to an angry Father God. Others think God is great but they have trouble with the whole history of “Christian” behaviour thing.

Others believe in Christ and do all the expected life-style things, but are skeptical that he talks to people today or heals them or miraculously intervenes in their lives because, after 40 years of doing church, they have never seen it.

Some of us journey on this road doing the best we can with the doubts that make us feel too small for the task. When we read expressions like “man or woman of God” or “giants of the faith” we know that it is not referring to us.

Sometimes it’s a matter of needing our hearts healed or enlarged until we can receive. A child whose birth dad left on her second birthday is going to find it hard to believe that a heavenly father promises to stay involved in her life. A boy whose parents were impossible to please will likewise assume that God is angry and disappointed in him. A person who was betrayed by a so-called Christian, especially an older brother, or worse a clergyman, will wonder where this so-called loving self-sacrificing Jesus disappeared to when the going got rough, and if this a set-up to be used again. A person who has been lied to will not buy every story they are told, and if believing every ancient account of events in the Bible is a requirement for a relationship with God they have a large fence to climb.

Here’s the thing. Walking by faith does not require truckloads of faith. Faith is exercised; that’s how it grows. It starts with baby steps. As we take risks and find that God is not like authority figures who berated,  beguiled and betrayed,  we can take another step. When we give up trying to appease an angry God, and he doesn’t smite us, we take another step. When we see an important lesson in one of Jesus’ stories we take another step. When we dare to pray to him to find lost car keys and have a picture in our minds of them lying under a shrub by the back door, and there they are, we take another step. When we trust another person on this road and are nakedly open about our own scarred story of pain and they treat it like a precious privilege to be protected, we take another step. We are healed inside bit by bit and enlarge our capacity to think and feel differently.

Paul, the guy who distrusted the stories about this Jesus of Nazareth character so much that he had his followers dragged off to prison, later wrote that his prayer  was that people, who were like he once was and who have huge doubts, would be strengthened with Jesus’ power in their inner being enough to have the capacity to be able to start to be able to comprehend his love. Our wounds have left holes in our hearts that love just pours through. We all need him to move first. So he did.

Jesus understands and is relentlessly kind. He is not shocked by our doubts, and understands the barriers religious people have left in the way in attempts to protect themselves from their own doubts.

If all you have is one tiny little speck of faith it’s all you need to start this journey. Eventually it will move mountains.

Feeling Bad About Feeling Good

On By Charis PsalloIn Uncategorized4 Comments

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I’ve heard a lot of sad stories lately, stories of loss, betrayal, disappointment, threat, jealousy, hatred, hopelessness….

It’s so easy for someone like me (a person who seems to attract I’ve-never-told-anyone-this-before confidences) to start to take on those feelings as if they were my own.

Joy, real joy, is not dependent on circumstances -mine or the many other situations I hear and read about. Joy doesn’t need to wait until that illusive when-this-is-over moment to well up inside the heart where Holy Spirit lives.

Hope, true hope, glows in the dark, and grows stronger with perseverance. True hope does not disappoint because it is based on something greater than relief of everything from annoyances to agony.

As I walked on the edge of the fog by the lake just after dawn this morning the song “It is Well With My Soul” was going through my head. I wondered why. Some parts of the woods were hidden in the mist, and others caught the sun. I was reminded that sometimes we can see the light and sometimes we walk by faith, but growth takes place no matter what the circumstance.

My daughter and son-in-love invited me to help them write their story. God did a miracle after our daughter’s much-loved husband had a 0% chance of survival from flesh-eating disease and was on life support. We have learned so much in the process about the importance of thanksgiving, of unity, of repentance, of perseverance, and of love. The book is now in the hands of the publisher (which feels somewhat like sending your child  -or in my case, grandchild- off to college). More than anything all the writers involved, including a physician, a pastor, and many of the people who followed the story online, want to give all the praise and thanks to God.

But at one point or another, all of us involved have felt the burden of the pain of those whose stories did not end with miracles. Each of us have questioned whether or not sharing our joy will increase another person’s sorrow and wondered if we should talk about it so publicly. We have felt bad about feeling good.

There is a young couple who helped us. They said goodbye to their precious little girl in an ICU just like the one where we spent many days and nights. Their sorrow was still fresh, because such sorrow lasts a very long time. They did not have to sit in the hospital waiting room day and night praying for their friend, but they did, because in spite of their own profound disappointment, they believe that no matter what, God is good. They refused to let the darkness win and rob them of hope and joy and pushed through their pain to find the God of all comfort. They dared to trust. They are gracious enough to also tell their story in the book.

There are plenty of sad stories in the world. I could tell you a few myself. But joyful stories of hope also need to be told, because like the trees in the forest, real joy, and true hope continue to grow, whether in the sun or in the fog. No matter what, God is good, and it is well with my soul.

We enter Your gates with thanksgiving in our hearts and into Your courts with praise, Lord -no matter what.

Thank you, Abba.

Let the Healing Streams Abound

On By Charis PsalloIn UncategorizedLeave a comment

Jesus, lover of my soul,
let me to thy bosom fly,
while the nearer waters roll,
while the tempest still is high;
hide me, O my Savior, hide,
till the storm of life is past;
safe into the haven guide,
O receive my soul at last!

Plenteous grace with thee is found,
grace to cover all my sin;
let the healing streams abound;
make and keep me pure within.
Thou of life the fountain art;
freely let me take of thee;
spring thou up within my heart,
rise to all eternity.

(Charles Wesley)

Mr. Medema’s music is available here.

The Reveal

On By Charis PsalloIn Photography2 Comments

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Our inclination is to show our Lord only what we feel comfortable with. But the more we dare to reveal our whole trembling self to him, the more we will be able to sense that his love, which is perfect love, casts out all our fears.

– Henri Nouwen

 

In the theatre, I have seen some marvelous sets -the kind that made the audience gasp, once when the curtains opened and the lights went up, and twice when the scrim rose later.  As one who stood nervously trembling in the wings, waiting for my cue, I know what the other side looks like. It was dramatically different from what the audience saw. But often, for the actors and crew, the backstage camaraderie could be the best part of a production.

There are parts of ourselves we have learned to keep in the dark. (Well some of us have. What is it with boys and bodily function humour?)

God is not shocked by our imperfections and half-formed concepts, nor is He fooled by smoke and mirrors.

In His presence, unashamed, without make-up and costumes. That’s where we know we are truly loved.

 

The Brilliance of Grace

On By Charis PsalloIn Flowers, Uncategorized5 Comments

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This is the brilliance of grace: it welcomes our darkness into the light and does nothing to it, knowing that it doesn’t have to, because darkness thrives on hiddenness, and it’s at the mercy of the light.

Light drives out darkness, not the other way around.

When we no longer have to push our darkness back down beneath layers of shame our darkness doesn’t stand a chance.

-Dr Kelly Flanagan

 

I thoroughly enjoyed reading Dr. Flanagan on Why I Don’t Believe in Grace Anymore  (It’s a short article – and please don’t jump to conclusions until you have read the whole thing.)