guts to hope

Few things speak hope like a puppy or a beautiful child. K still lives at Rancho Ebenezer and is 9.Not everyone understands how you can spin two lassos at the same time, one of hope and one of grief. Jodi Picoult, Vanishing Acts

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. Proverbs 13:12

To hope takes guts. 

To hope is to join Adam and Eve again in the garden. A desire fulfilled is a tree of life. The phrase “tree of life” takes us back to Eden. The tree was in the middle of the garden. Next to it grew the other tree. The forbidden tree. We ate. We died. And we have struggled with hope ever since. But it also calls us to remember the end. We, as overcomers, will feast on the tree of life which is in the paradise of God (Rev. 2:7). The leaves of the tree will be for the healing of the nations (Rev. 22:2).

When we hope, we risk heart sickness. The vultures of disappointment surely have eaten more than once of our flesh. The reality is that often our hearts are sickened here on the other side of the Garden.

My family had hoped…

To remain in Honduras to love the children in our ministry

To build an addition to our school

To be there until Edgar graduated high school

I’ve heard of other brutal choices missionaries had to make to leave the children they were loving. I know what it is like to walk away. When the rubble of life overwhelms, you have to make a devastating choice. On the wall in our den in Honduras, I painted a tree. To me the tree represented life. A day came when we had to walk away. We placed the precious children back in the arms of the Shepherd who loved them before we had even seen their smiles. 

The grief that followed threatened to take my very breath away. 

My grief is not over. Grief doesn’t end. It evolves and blends and changes. It changes you. The things I grieve are far too precious for the grief to one day be “done.” Gradually, I am trusting God with my pain and my sons in Honduras. Over time, He is showing me that He is the Defender of the Weak. And He shows me that the Weak is mainly me. I can trust Him with the Weak – my Honduran sons – more when I can trust Him with the weak in me.

When I ask Him about evil – and I have asked - we don’t get much farther than. “It exists.” And, “I AM is bigger.” And, “I am more glorified because I can turn what men meant for evil into good and glory and purpose.” 

Faith has grown in my heart where I have allowed the Father to hold me in the pain. My strength and hope speak of a loving Father orchestrating a larger story here on earth. Often I don’t understand the “scenes” of this story, but I trust the Screenwriter.

When a desire is fulfilled, it is the hors d’oeuvre for the feast of heaven. Until then, we have hope.

We must so hunger for a different tomorrow that we risk losing today to gain it. Dan Allender

believe truth

Matthew stands in front of JAWS in Costa Rica.We fight a defeated foe. Our enemy, Satan, has no more real power than the teeth above Matthew’s head. Here me now, he has power, but it is limited. The victory is won.

It’s the tension of the now and the not yet. While our enemy is defeated, he can sure wreak some havoc on our lives by spreading lies. One of his favorites is that we are all alone. 

I woke up at 5:30 this morning so Franklin could get to work by 6. Side note: Franklin, our oldest son from Honduras, is here in the US! He arrived Labor Day weekend. It is  dream come true to have him here in our home. You will hear more about his visit very soon! Back to today’s post: Matt took Franklin to work so I went upstairs to enjoy the quiet house and avoid waking Sam and Joshua downstairs.

Sam got up and before I knew he was looking for me, he tried to go outside. He frantically searched the house and thought we were outside... or maybe that we weren’t here at all. By the time I got to him, tears streamed down his face and his breath came in sobs. I enveloped him in my arms and whispered, “I’m here.” In a few seconds, he calmed.

Devastating choices can result from believing the lie that we are all alone. Recently, I saw a young believer in our clinic. He just experienced a terrible break-up and found himself on a downward spiral. He had begun to believe he was all alone. He had depression and intrusive obsessive thoughts. When I told him that our pastor also struggled with depression and co-dependency, his eyes brightened with hope. His countenance said: You mean I am not alone! 

Sam’s fear grew up from a lie that no one was home. My client’s depression related to his belief at least in part that he was all alone. Reality had little to do with either of their fears. Our task is to sift through the lies, to tune our ears to hear our God, and to combat the lies with the truth. 

David wrote of a time he believed he was all alone. Hear his process as he came to understand the lie and replace it with truth.

Look to my right and see; no one is concerned for me. I have no refuge; no one cares for my life. I cry to you, O LORD; I say, “You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.” Then later, “Set me free from my prison, that I may praise your name.”

Yes, Lord, set us free. Let the truth set us free.

Love Story

Some friends flocked me for my 45th birthday!Please read the “love” in love story as a verb in this phrase. 

In a recent blogpost, I posed the question: Will I despise my birthright (my story) like Esau? 

This is a question I have mused for about seven years. Upon reading the story of Jacob and Esau, I had to ask myself, “how do I despise my story?” The fact that Esau despised his birthright began to haunt me.

To despise means to regard something as worthless, to hold in contempt. The very act of undervaluing something or someone implies contempt.

I despise my story, my birthright, when I pretend to be someone else. In college I experienced an amazing Christian community of peers who attended RUF and Campus Crusade. I had never known anything like this. My inclination in this community was to hide my story. I came from a long line of hell-raisers who could curse a blue streak to rival any sailor. God entered this band of horse thieves and outlaws and in His grace brought many to salvation. But the picture of my family did not line up with any puritanical image. We were not your poster family for a “godly heritage.” 

Or so I thought. 

For the past 23 years, I’ve learned a few things and read more than one story of biblical characters who would have fit right in at one of our family reunions. I’ve become more and more willing to share the truth about my need, excuse me - my desperation - for God’s grace. 

I honor my story when I tell of how depraved I am and how I need God’s grace for my very breath. When I share the turmoil and chaos of my family of origin, God’s intervention shines brighter against that backdrop of darkness. 

I despise my story when I try to find my own answers.

Esau is called godless and profane in the book of Hebrews. I think “all over a cup of stew?” Really? And I know that I have done the same thing... every time I choose a momentary comfort of an idol over the Presence of God. 

Esau did not trust God to provide. He responded with a cavalier answer to his predicament: “"Behold, I am about to die; so of what use then is the birthright to me?"

Often when we reach for our idols, we think the same thing. We believe the pain will kill us. In part of our brains, we are threatened and often believe we may lose our lives if we face the pain. This is the root of addiction. 

In nursing school, I heard a fascinating lecture I will never forget by a physician who had lost his license because of an addiction to shooting up cough syrup in the femoral vein. He explained addiction as a matter of our primitive brain also called the reptilian brain. He said this is why addiction can only be addressed in a spiritual context. We need a Higher Power to transcend this fear of death. 

In my opinion, addicts understand the grace of God better than most Christians. When they begin to get healing, they oftentimes see their addiction so clearly and register the powerlessness of it. Whereas at church, we tend to put on airs like we got this life-thing handled. 

I want to honor my story.

In Revelation 12:11 we are told how to have victory over the Evil One. “They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony; they did not love their lives so much as to shrink from death.” That is how powerful my story is... my weapon right up there with the blood of the Lamb. I have no story without the blood of the Lamb. But coupled with that... what power!

I desire to live this belief out like it bleeds out of my marrow. Musing my story seems appropriate as I celebrate my 45th birthday. For 35 years, I have walked with my God. Will I let my story be a weapon in my hand? Or will I, like Esau, choose the godless path of pretending and addiction?

i remember

On this day, September 11, 2001, I sat dumbstruck and scared on my bed watching as the Pentagon was attacked by the third hijacked jet that morning. My friend, Barb Taylor, had called after the second plane flew into the World Trade Center. Fresh out of the shower, I sat wet and wrapped in a towel as my world changed forever. My 10 year old was at school. My 1 year old slept soundly in his crib. The towers representative of the greatest economy in the world crumbled before my eyes like a child s sand castle.

I remember spending much of that day in front of the tv crying. Today I flipped on the Today show and repeated history. The images, the stories, the names, oh the names, and the memorial unveiled - all called me to grieve. I don t even know anyone who was in New York or near it that day but because of my identity as an American, I grieve.

Last night as Matt and I went to bed, we talked of the past ten years. He asked me why I was so interested in the coverage of 9/11/11. I said I feel like I was changed that day. He said he didn t think much had changed for people on a day to day basis. Joe Blow walking the street has not changed that much. We debated this for a few minutes. I love Matt s honesty.

This morning at Ground Zero several soldiers in dress uniforms unfurled a US flag. They handled it with white gloves as if it was sacred because it is. The flag - red, dazzling white and blue - displayed rips, holes and tears. Not a stain anywhere but plenty of wear and tear, this Old Glory flew atop the wreckage of 2001.

When I think about the past ten years, I can tell you that I am not the same person today that I was then. A few months after 9/11, on June 2, 2002, we checked our worldly possessions in 16 or so trunks and boarded an airplane. We left this country to live in Honduras. Anyone will tell you that air travel has drastically changed. The crew of 50 or so people who saw us off on our journey that morning were unable to go to the gate with us like in times past. We waved goodbye and headed down the terminal hallway. We took off shoes and were sidelined because of carrying nail clippers in a carry on bag. We thought we would be arrested. I could see the headlines: Missionaries Detained due to Weapons of Minimal Destruction: Nail Clippers.

Nobody complained about the tight security then. It was all just too fresh. Now I complain often. Who gets all that wonderful stuff confiscated from carry ons? We recently handed over Tuscany honey and olive oil from France in a container shaped like the Eiffel Tower. Three homeland security agents surrounded Matt until he handed them the Eiffel Tower emptied of it s precious oil.

But have we really changed? Air travel, yes. Has my heart changed?

A brave Marine shared in our church today about her experience serving our country. She said that at boot camp you are stripped of your identity. You begin to think about your fellow soldier differently. You begin to act as one unit.

Suffering has changed me. So much was stripped away. The fruit of that suffering is a love for God s Kingdom and a desire to see His name exalted over mine.

A flag flies over me. A banner of love declares me spotless. Ragged. Torn. Weary. But not stained, I want to wear the identity of Christ s Beloved Bride. I want to remember that I live my life for one purpose: My King s Will.

Today, I will remember. Thank you to those who fight now for my freedom. Thank you to those who fought in the past. The men of World War II fought evil on both sides of us. And beat it. Thank you to those who have fought in the other not-so-glamorous wars. Thank you to the men I know personally: Ted Leichner, Omar Hamada and Rob Tomsett. Thank you John Cunningham. Thanks to my deceased grandfather and father-in-law who fought in WWII. I honor your service. I remember.

Jacob muses

The Arc de Triompphe stands in Paris as a monument of victory honoring those who fought in the French Revolution and the Napoleonic wars. Jacob put up a monument honoring God. Jacob woke up from his sleep. He said, "God is in this place - truly. And I didn't even know it!" He was terrified. He whispered in awe, "Incredible. Wonderful. Holy. This is God's House. This is the Gate of Heaven."

In Genesis 28 Jacob is fleeing his home after “trading” a bowl of porridge for Esau’s birthright.  Abraham had blessed him and sent him on his way to get a wife. Nonetheless the bitter taste of guilt must have lingered on Jacob’s tongue long after the tang of the porridge left Esau. 

God appeared to Jacob in a dream. You remember the story. The angels were descending and ascending to heaven on Jacob’s ladder. God told Jacob, “Behold, I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land ; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you."

The verb there for “keep” is shamar, a covenant verb. The Old Testament Word Book defines it as “to exercise great care over.” 

I’m not altogether sure of the connection, but it is the verb used in Genesis 2:15 when God tells Adam to keep and cultivate the land. It is as if the Lord has seen that we cannot keep covenant, so He will. I like the notion that even though it was our job to keep and cultivate, God is the Keeper. 

When we studied Genesis 2:15 in church, our pastor said this verb is used more often to refer to how the Levitical priests KEPT the law. Shamar refers to the work of the Levitical priest in the Temple of God. They cleaned the tabernacle. They killed the animals for sacrifice. They chanted. They hummed. They prayed. They risked being killed if they entered the Holy of Holies haphazardly. 

I began to think of myself as a Levitical priest. I am to keep the temple: my body, my story, my life, my unique face. I am to love my story as my birthright. Esau despised his birthright. Will I despise mine?

This wonderful promise of God to keep reminds me that when I fail to keep, when I fail to obey what God commanded Adam to do in the Garden; God is keeping me. God is my Keeper.

Jacob’s response is the essence of musing. He said, "God is in this place - truly. And I didn't even know it!" He was terrified. He whispered in awe, "Incredible. Wonderful. Holy. This is God's House. This is the Gate of Heaven." Genesis 28:17, MSG

Jacob has seen God, albeit in a dream. Words almost cannot hold the experience. He is afraid. This word for fear is used 314 times in the Bible. The word for terrified, yare,  means to cause astonishment and awe or to inspire reverence or godly fear. 

The fear gives way to worship. He worships. He sets up the stone as a marker. 

To see God in a new way and utter forth mumblings in response is to muse. Muse with me all the great things God has done for us.