“If a man just stops to think what he has to praise God for, he will find there is enough to keep him singing praises for a week.”
-Dwight L. Moody
Two years ago the leaves on our double flowering plum suddenly started shriveling up. Within a week most of them had fallen off. Many of the trees on our street suffered the same fate. Leaf miner bugs staged an invasion while we were out on the porch enjoying our ice tea.
We sprayed and fertilized and watered, but it was too late. It was a sad sight. On her way to her car after a visit, my friend Rhonda stopped and held the tip of a barren low-hanging branch in her gentle hand. I knew she was praying for the tree’s recovery. Rhonda is sensitive to nature. She could feel the tree’s pain and she had compassion.
Last spring the tree sprouted leaves, but there were no blossoms. My husband suggested cutting it down, but I couldn’t bear to let go as long as long as it still lived. I pruned it back and fertilized hoping for revival even as more leaves browned and blew away.
This morning as I look out the window above my desk, branches decked in beautiful pink blossoms wave in the breeze. I can’t see them hiding in there, but I can hear the birds singing. Buzzing bees don’t even trigger my fear of them because they are far too busy with flowers to notice me.
The thirty-five-year-old double flowering plum made a dramatic comeback this spring. We marvel in the show because we feared we had lost her.
This week also marks the fourth anniversary of our son-in-love returning home from the hospital. He was miraculously healed after doctors gave him a 0% chance of survival from flesh-eating disease. We thought we had lost him too. But God had other plans, and we still marvel.
To be honest, this has been a year of set-backs. Half of our house is still uninhabited and awaiting restoration after heavy snow-melt floods destroyed the renovation work barely finished. Just when I thought my nagging health issues had finally been dealt with, the tests say ‘not so fast.’ This will require more treatment and more recovery time.
You may be in a season of hope deferred as well.
One thing I have learned in my life: Complaining attracts spiritual forces who are quite willing to help you with dismal projections and align to undermine hope. Praise attracts the angels who live in the atmosphere of worship of the God of Love. They align to bring about God’s purpose – reconciliation between the Father and humankind and restoration of all creation.
Today the plum tree is vibrant with petal colour and birdsong and the hum of honey-makers. Today I have a reminder right outside my window that God is still in the restoration business and there is always, always something to be thankful for.
Can I be honest? I am disappointed. Not devastated, but disappointed.
Only four months ago we finally finished a big renovation project. My Dad, who perfected the art of frugality, left me a little money after he passed away. We used it to do long needed repairs to our house and to completely re-finish the lower level. It’s taken nearly three years, but by Christmas it was finally done and I loved it. Our son spent many long hours away from his own wife and children to use his creative carpentry skills and give me the home I always wanted.
And now? Now, like many people in our town, I stand in my own house in rubber boots and wade through water that ought not to be inside our beautiful warm home with its new flooring and freshly painted walls and white trim. Water swirls around the new freezer and washer and dryer.
I’ve not been writing much this week because I have, with friends, been pumping water out the back door for seven days. When the huge dump of snow we had this winter began to melt, it had no escape route. Many of the houses in our town are filling with icy cold water flowing into low places and bubbling up from sewers. It seems the only place the water has not ventured is into the room with the drain installed in the floor to deal with such things.
Wonderful friends jumped in to help last Saturday. Then one by one our friends jumped out to bail out their own homes when the water reached them. Some of them are now in deeper water than we have been. One brave guy came over and emptied an 1100 square foot pool with two shop vacuums all by himself – two days in a row! I am so grateful. But it filled up again within a couple of hours.
My husband’s mother is ill and needs help, so he flew up to her place in Alberta on Sunday. I am here. I’m still supposed to take it easy after surgery last month but there is really not much choice but to bend and lift and bail and do the best I can.
It’s not enough. There is really nothing I, or anyone else, can do. I have to let it go.
My Facebook friend has been posting pictures of the horrendous flood in Peru, where he lives in Lima – without access to water, ironically enough. Another friend posts photos from a famine in Africa and another pictures of the destruction in the Middle East. My problem is pitifully insignificant in comparison. No one has died here. It’s just property damage.
Yet as I heard a young woman say, “If you have no right to be sad because someone has it worse, you have no right to be happy when someone has it better.” Feelings are feelings. Like the feeling of thirst the feeling of disappointment carries no shame. It’s what I do with that disappointment that matters. If I fail to hold these things in an open hand and give my right to own nice stuff back to God it could congeal into bitterness. I’ve known that heavy entrapment before. I lost years to it.
The night before my husband first stepped on an unexpectedly cold soggy rug in the middle of the family room I had a dream. In this dream I was driving on the top of a snow-covered dike that ended near the river. I needed to turn around, but the trail was very narrow and a deep pool of water surrounded the dike like a flood plain. I almost made the turn, but then my car began to slide into the water. I knew there was nothing I could do. I felt annoyed and resigned, but not particularly upset or panicky.
As my vehicle began to sink I knew I had to give it up. (I love my little Honda Insight). I exited through the window and swam toward the snowy dike. By the time I touched the shore it had become a solid rock beach. People who hadn’t been there before waited with warm blankets to cover me. I saw men attaching cables to my car and salvaging it before it was completely submerged. Someone behind me, wrapping a warm hand-made quilt around my shivering body, whispered in my ear, “This looks very dramatic and like it’s a big deal, but it’s not. You’re going to be okay.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
My feet are wet and cold. I watch the water lap up against the new library shelves. They are already warping. It’s only stuff, I know that. But it’s a loss, and I’m sad. And that’s okay.
In January I asked the Lord to give me a word about what aspect of himself he wanted to show me in this season. In a vision in the night I saw the word “berit” written in the sky. I wrote it down and looked it up in the morning. The first article I found said it was a form of the Hebrew word for covenant promise – a one way promise from God that is not conditional on his people conforming to a code of behaviour to bring about fulfillment. It’s simply part of his faithfulness to keep it.
Someone asked me if I’ve seen any rainbows lately, considering all the rain that was melting mounds of snow. I remembered seeing this word written in the sky. In Genesis a rainbow is a berit. I saw a literal word of promise taking the place of a rainbow in the sky.
You know, it shouldn’t surprise me that as I write this I am remembering that today is the anniversary of the day our daughter was told she couldn’t have children. It’s also her daughter’s birthday, the first of three miracle babies.
Today is also the anniversary of a terrible day when our son-in-law crashed after surgery for flesh-eating disease. The doctors didn’t think he would live. On this date a year after that he and our daughter celebrated his miraculous better-than-before recovery by going on a mountain bike adventure.
Shortly after that our son and family experienced a flood far worse than this one. Their house sat in a lake of water and they were displaced for months. This week marks the completion of the restoration of their house to better-than-new condition, it’s sale, and the beginning of a new project.
I guess if you want to see miracles you’re going to find yourself in situations that call for them. I am disappointed, yes, but not beaten down, not without hope, not without other treasures. We have wealth in caring friends, in family, in the laughter of grandchildren. We also know that God never allows something to be removed without replacing it with something better. I am anticipating that he will do it again.
A song has been going through my head this week. One line in particular seems to be on repeat:
After the rain
After the flood
You set your promise in the sky…
God is good. Still good. Always good.
Though the fig tree should not blossom And there be no fruit on the vines, Though the yield of the olive should fail And the fields produce no food, Though the flock should be cut off from the fold And there be no cattle in the stalls, Yet I will exult in the Lord,
I will rejoice in the God of my salvation. The Lord God is my strength, And He has made my feet like hinds’ feet, And makes me walk on my high places.
With my whole heart, with my whole life And with my innermost being, I bow in wonder and love before you, the Holy God! Yahweh, you are my soul’s celebration; How could I ever forget the miracles of kindness you’ve done for me? You kissed my heart with forgiveness, in spite of all I’ve done. You healed me inside and out from every disease. You’ve rescued me from hell and saved my life. You’ve crowned me with love and mercy and made me a king. You satisfy my every desire with good things. You supercharged my life so that I soar again Like a flying eagle in the sky. You’re a God who makes things right, Giving justice to the defenseless…
(Psalm 103:1-6 The Passion Translation)
There are passages of scripture some of us have learned are part of our inheritance. We keep running into them at crucial moments in our lives. They show up when we most need them. Psalm 103 is one of those passages for me.
The irony is that the Lord brings it to my attention when I feel least likely to be able to declare it without engaging a considerable amount of faith. Circumstances would seem to point in another direction.
But we live by faith and not by sight.
So today I stand and declare: You supercharged my life so that I soar again like an eagle flying in the sky!
It’s about His faithfulness. Therefore I have hope, the evidence of things not seen.
Fall on your knees and grow there. There is no burden of the spirit but is lighter by kneeling under it. Prayer means not always talking to Him, but waiting before Him till the dust settles and the stream runs clear.
Sometimes we walk on sunny mountain tops. Sometimes we walk through stormy valleys.
Lately it feels like another storm hits before our shoes have had a chance to dry out after the last one.
Can I be honest with you? I don’t feel like I’m doing a great job in this season of my life. I’m so far behind I don’t know if I’ll ever catch up to my expectations for myself. Sometimes the closest I come to resting in the Lord is pulling the blankets over my head and ignoring the clock in the morning.
This morning I had a dream that describes what I have been feeling. I was rushing around in a house (similar to ours in real life but with more stories) that needed work and preparation for the next season. Someone came to the door. I felt grubby, dusty and sweaty and not in the mood for company, but I invited the young girl who waited there into my mess.
She whispered something about wanting to make a proclamation. Before I could say anything another person showed up who needed my attention. As I went to look for something he wanted more people arrived – all in some sort of need or crisis. My house was noisy and confusing and full of people poking into all my private not-so-impressive spaces. I wanted to be hospitable and make something for them to eat, but everywhere I looked something in the house needed to be cleaned, trimmed, painted, organized, or repaired. Too many voices asked questions at the same time.
I felt overwhelmed.
Then the girl who had arrived at my door first put her hand on my arm and said in the sweetest gentle voice, “Can we proclaim now?”
I woke up, the word “proclaim” still ringing in my ears.
All day I’ve been thinking about this. Then I stumbled on this video by a group of young singers called “Proclaim.” The first young soloist looks like the girl who came to my door in the dream.
Okay, Lord, you have my attention. I’m listening.
I will call upon your name when everything has failed. I will lift my weary eyes to that place where my help comes from and I will not be afraid and I will run to you in my time of weakness and I will remember your unfailing love for me
You are my help, Lord! Your right hand will hold me when I stray. You are my help, Lord. There’s no fear in me. I will rise again.
I proclaim the glory of the Lord.
I will remember Your unfailing love for me. There is no fear in me. I rise again!
For many years I could not say that. The best I could do was say, “I’ll be happy when…
when this course is over,
when I have a driver’s license,
when I am married,
when this baby is born,
when tax season is over,
when the swelling goes down,
when I get my Dad settled in his new home,
when the bills are paid,
when the house is clean and organized,
when my kids are doing well,
when their bills are paid…”
There was always a reason to postpone enjoying the moment, something that still needed improvement, some potential disappointment that needed guarding against.
I used to think that when I managed to finish everything on the job list I could reward myself with feeling a little joy.
I rarely finished the to-do list -and never finished the worry list. That list I took to bed with me.
Jesus said his burden was light.
Mine wasn’t.
I lumbered from burn-out to burn-out and laboured under thick layers of guilt.
In a dream, the Lord showed me a heavy suitcase. It was full of things that needed prayer. He said sometimes I needed to set it down. It would wear me out if I carried it all the time. Sometimes I needed to leave it with him, walk away and enjoy the scenery.
In a way, that is why I took up photography and painting. They make me pay attention and become more aware of beauty. The evening light does not wait until the paperwork is done and the hedge is clipped and all the hungry people in the world are fed and all the sick are healed.
Sometimes on this journey we need to leave the heavy stuff and the “whys” in his care and sit by the stream in the cool of the evening and allow our souls to be restored. Right here, mid-crisis, in the hidden grottos of the valley, with all of the threats and fears and opposition looking on like jealous, ravenous beasts, God prepares a place of rest and safety and refreshing for us.
I am learning (slowly) to set the suitcase down, step into the joyful freshness of God’s presence and allow him to restore my soul -in that infinitely tiny and infinitely spacious moment called “now.” That’s where the battle is won.
A couple of days ago an insightful young man asked me, “Why do you think God chose to reveal himself as a father? Could it be that a perfect father is something we are all missing? Do you think that God the Father sent more than the Son? Maybe it was also about sending the relationship.”
Adam, the first father of all of us sinned. What was the nature of his sin? I wonder if it was the failure to be the father/caregiver God intended him to be.
I think Adam demonstrated three failures as a husband and father that set patterns which cause men to struggle with their identity to this day: passivity, shirking responsibility and a lack of courage.
When the serpent tempted Eve (with the oldest lie in the book, “Did God really say…?”) Adam was with her. (Gen 3:6) He had the opportunity to say, “Step away from the snake, Honey,” but he did nothing. He could have loaned her his strength to resist, but he became passive. He chose to disengage.
When God asked Adam what he had done he said, “That woman…that woman YOU gave me made me do it.” (Gen. 3:12) He was saying, “Hey, I’m just the victim here. I’m a victim of another human and a victim of God.” He could have taken responsibility, but he chose to shift the blame.
Adam and Eve chose to hide from God. Who told them they were naked? Obviously the one who has been capitalizing on shame ever since. Again Adam and Eve chose to listen to that voice and the result was living in shame and fear. Adam’s legacy is the tendency to hide in shame and live in fear.
When fear becomes the motivating force in our lives we either hide or become bullies. When we are shame-based we are easily offended. Shame on a larger scale leads to a hopeless society with a desire to escape responsibility or accountability. Bullying on a national scale leads to exploitation and war. In the hands of the wicked the manipulation of the masses through shame and fear leads to every form of depravity we’ve ever seen –and passivity and the shirking of responsibility keep it entrenched.
God chose to use the symbolism of fatherhood to convey the nature of the relationship he desires with us. I don’t think he chose it because the character traits of a good father are exclusive to one gender. (Several passages also speak of the “feminine” characteristics of God like nursing, nurturing, birthing, and comforting ) I wonder if he chose the image of father because fundamentally we all suffer the consequences of father Adam’s inadequacies. Most –no, I think all– of the patriarchs failed as fathers in some way. We see patterns of passivity, disengagement, shirking responsibility and cowardice passed down from generation to generation all throughout the Bible.
A person cannot give what they have not received.
But why would God want to associate himself with these guys who missed the ideal in so many ways? Perhaps it is because he also wants to redeem the whole concept of father. Perhaps if we look at what Jesus accomplished in relationship with the Father we can have a better idea of what a father is meant to be.
Adam was passive and silent; Jesus engaged by speaking truth in love. He never denied the reality of the consequence of sin, but always acted with compassion, and provided a way out.
Adam shirked responsibility; Jesus took responsibility for our sin. He was the ultimate example of “The buck stops here.”
Adam hid in shame and fear; Jesus courageously walked into shame and submitted to the humiliation of a mock trial and a cross of shame. Jesus agonized and sweat drops of blood in the garden of Gethsemane, but he courageously delivered himself to bear the consequence of our sin when he willingly went to the cross. Do not mistake his silence before his accusers as passivity. Never did he disengage. His actions were deliberate. He was still in total co-operation with the authority of the Father when he laid his life down.
Jesus demonstrated how to use authority both when he tipped over the tables of the money changers and when he stripped down to his underwear to wash his friend’s stinky feet. He faithfully responded to God the Father’s favourite cause: concern for the widow, the fatherless, and the refugee. He loved them, healed them, blessed them, fed them, and confided in them. (James 1:27 calls this “Pure and undefiled religion.” It’s not the legalistic hypocritical attempts to appease an angry God type of religion, but the Bible does talk about religion here in a positive sense, so I personally think we need to use that term carefully.)
Jesus said that when we look at him we can know what God the Father is like. In him we find everything our lonely, unloved, orphaned, refugee souls crave. The perfect father. Someone who will fight to the death for us. Someone who will fully engage with us and speak truth into our lives. Someone who is willing to be both a warrior and a servant. Someone who embodies Love.
I believe God wants to restore fathers to their children and children to their fathers and he has shown us what this looks like. Trusting and co-operating with the type of leadership Jesus showed is not a struggle with submission to a potentially abusive patriarch. It’s a joy and relief. Women, children, and the disenfranchised long for such leadership.
… looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross, despising the shame, and has sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. (Hebrews 12:2)
A lot of the thoughts in this blog were gleaned from an excellent sermon I heard this week. You know the speaker is listening to the Holy Spirit when you forget he is your son and hear only the message. God is good.
This morning as I look out the window above my desk, branches decked in beautiful pink blossoms wave in the breeze. I can’t see them hiding in there, but I can hear the birds singing. Buzzing bees don’t even trigger my fear of them because they are far too busy with flowers to notice me.
Someone asked me if I’ve seen any rainbows lately, considering all the rain that was melting mounds of snow. I remembered seeing this word written in the sky. In Genesis a rainbow is a berit. I saw a literal word of promise taking the place of a rainbow in the sky.
Charis: Subject to Change 