Called to Action

 Once again, I'm struggling with the current state of America. The Covid-19 death rate, the economy, the violence and unrest. The decline in world leadership and status, the rise of white supremacist groups, and the increasing disparity of wealth distribution. For the first time in my life, I fear for the existence and future of American democracy. The world is looking at America increasingly as failing.

I have thought of the words of David when he asked himself, "Why are you downcast my soul? Why so disquieted? Hope in God." He faced all manner of troubles in his life, and many were political in nature. Jesus faced politics as well, within the religious institution, and living under Roman rule. In fact, Christians have faced political backlash throughout the church's existence. Sometimes simply praying, sometimes standing up and saying "no more."

I think of Dietrich Bonhoeffer who spoke out against the Nazi government and was hung as a result just before the Germans surrendered. I think of Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr. who faced down racist resistance and was assassinated. I could name others, but for the sake of brevity I won't. Both spoke out against ungodly governance. They were anointed individuals for their eras. They carried out God's call on their lives and paid the price. 

I think God is calling some now to stand up to ungodly governance. There are Christian voices saying enough. And it's not just about America, it's countries throughout the world who have governments who rule for the few and not the many. Where wealth and power sway all decisions and the environment is sullied and destroyed. We are all called to pray, but some are called to nonviolent action. I would be among the protesters who are marching against racism were it not for my leg. But I can vote and write emails and I do. 

In this time of national turmoil, I will think of David's words and hope in God. I will remember I am a citizen of a kingdom that is ruled from heaven. But I will also be an active participant in our democracy and work for peace and justice. I will not be silent nor complicit in systemic racism or inequity in education, financial security, or healthcare. I will try to walk humbly with my God, but I will stand up for the disenfranchised and poor. I will no doubt step on toes, but it will not be intentional to cause harm. 

God's Timetable

As a favorite band, Chicago, sang, "Feeling stronger every day." After three physical therapy sessions, I'm walking a little better. There is pain, but it's manageable with ibuprofen. My foot and ankle swell pretty badly by the end of the day if I have walked a lot, but that's to be expected. My goal is to be off the walker and using a cane by the time physical therapy is complete. My leg muscles are weak, but I'm exercising them. Compared to where  I was a month ago, this is excellent progress. 

As much as I want to move faster, I have to be content with slow and steady. I can't be deterred if my goal isn't reached according to my timetable. It will be hard if I haven't graduated to a cane in five weeks, but I will battle discouragement.

 It can be hard when our plans don't come to pass when we expect. Learning God's timing doesn't always line up with ours can be difficult. At least it can be for me. I can think of many times throughout the years when I was disappointed, even dejected when my dreams were delayed. And sometimes, our dreams aren't even in God's plans for us. I wanted to be a composer. I enrolled in a university conservatory only to drop out. It's not that I had no talent for it, fear of failure won out. 

Looking back I see my talents were to be used for other purposes. I did compose, but not symphony music. I wrote contemporary Christian songs. I also dreamed of making it big but my two albums never sold well. I spent forty years playing guitar and singing for churches. I never would have guessed my life would follow that path. Maybe I wasn't an Amy Grant or Darlene Zschech, but my talent was used according to God's plan for my life. It was a good plan. 

I have also learned I'm not the one who is the judge of my life. I have a judge and he is more compassionate than I am. He sees deep into my heart and knows me better than I know myself. Motives I don't always understand or deny are laid bare to him. Yet he loves me unconditionally. My judge is God and I know he is not a harsh judge, unlike humans who frequently are. I know he is not swayed by special interests or bribes. He answers the demands of the law and accusations by looking to my Savior who paid the ultimate price for my failures, whether intentional or not. I have the gift of peace knowing that.

Dreams and plans will continue to go according to God's plan and timetable. We can accept it or fight it to our own turmoil. I will try to continue to trust God for how my life plays out. I will trust his judgments, for he is all-merciful and all-knowing. 

The Fruit Quiz

 1 Peter 3:8-12 (The Message)

 

Summing up: Be agreeable, be sympathetic, be loving, be compassionate, be humble. That goes for all of you, no exceptions. No retaliation. No sharp-tongued sarcasm. Instead, bless—that’s your job, to bless. You’ll be a blessing and also get a blessing. Whoever wants to embrace life and see the day fill up with good, Here’s what you do: Say nothing evil or hurtful; Snub evil and cultivate good; run after peace for all you’re worth. God looks on all this with approval, listening and responding well to what he’s asked; But he turns his back on those who do evil things.

This was the verse I was greeted with this morning when I opened up my bible app. Some people immediately came to mind. The words of Jesus that you will know people by their fruit came to me as well. As I checked off my mental list of prominent people, the uneasy feeling of how my mouth as sometimes belied my faith washed over me. And I had to admit, sometimes my fruit isn't all that great.

Jesus said to be wary of those who claim to be Christians but never show fruit consistent with that claim. But I must look to myself as well.  Am I bearing good fruit that shows my faith is genuine? Does sarcasm come from my lips? Do I diligently work for peace? Do I say hurtful things? Am I humble and compassionate?  If I am being honest, I have to say sometimes I fail that quiz.

Right now I'm thinking I'm not alone in this. Whew! But God has called me to look at my own heart. So I will do all I can to control my own mouth. To strive to speak words of peace, not division. To avoid using zingers to put down. To speak graciously to all, especially to those who oppose. 

Proverbs says gentle words turn away wrath. It's almost a daunting task to take on, but I have help from God. What he expects of Christians, he will supply the strength to do. 

Blessing in Disguise

 Sixteen weeks. That's how long it has been since I broke my leg. I'm still wearing the boot and using the walker, but I have recently been able to put weight on it. I cannot begin to say how much joy it brings. My hands have sore calluses from bearing my weight on hard walker handles. Now I only use the walker to steady myself. My leg and ankle muscles are quite weak from disuse. In two weeks I get another set of x-rays and am hoping they will say I no longer have to wear the boot. I will still need the walker for some time until my muscles have strengthened. But that will come. 

A week or two back I had a long conversation with my pastor. One of the topics we touched on was the accident. She remarked that I seemed to be more at peace. I am, and that is no accident. We agreed God did not cause me to break my leg, but the accident wasn't prevented by Divine intervention either. It's pretty clear it was a life-changing event. Faced with an extended leave of absence, eventually money would have run out. I was forced to take early retirement.

The job I had was fast-paced and demanding. I was there for over sixteen years. During those years I worked with five managers with enough temperamental differences I sometimes suffered mental whiplash. Bipolar disorder made it even more challenging. One particular boss had little patience. I struggled during her tenure with a complete breakdown. And medications were making me forgetful. I had to take an extended leave of absence to save my job. I am very fortunate my employer was sympathetic and I was not terminated. A lot of people with mental illness suffer job loss even with the ADA. I will always be grateful for the library standing by me. 

This broken leg, as trying as it has been, has resulted in my no longer having to take blood pressure medication. I also get better sleep. And even when sleep isn't good, I no longer face a high stress eight hour day with diminished mental acuity and physical stamina. Yes, God didn't cause it, but he allowed it. He understood my anxieties and steered me in the direction I needed to go. 

A verse from Psalm 139 came to mind this morning: ...all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. God knows our comings and goings. He hems us in from every side. I could wish my leg had never been broken, but I would have continued on the same path and stayed in turmoil. Instead, God used my misfortune to rescue me and put my life on a new trajectory. Contrary to some teachings, blessings rarely mean money, ease, and a carefree life. Jesus said blessed are the poor. I now see my accident as a blessing and I thank God. His blessings truly make rich the soul.

Journey to Justice

 I used to say I’m colorblind. It seemed the right way to think. But my mindset has changed and I embrace differences in color and culture because it validates identity. I believe everyone has a spark of the divine image of God and dignity within them. That’s why the voices calling for racial justice and equality matter. That’s why my voice joins with them.

I grew up in a white suburb of Kansas City. Maybe that was intentional on the part of the developers. I don’t know. The only time I saw people who weren’t white was when we journeyed south of the river to shop downtown, go to the zoo, or to the Air Force base. I’m certain I stared. We always returned to the insulated neighborhood in which we lived.

I finally encountered people of color when I went to college, though not many attended the university. It was moving to cheaper housing that brought me into a predominately Black neighborhood. I was the only white person in my apartment building. There I saw financial insecurity, the result of redlined segregation. Though I made friends, I was called out for white privilege. It just wasn’t labeled by that name yet. I had everything I needed and much of what I wanted courtesy of just being white and having parents who could foot the bill. The cards were stacked in my favor.

I’m aware the doors of financial, educational, and employment opportunities have opened for me that are frequently denied people of color. Black, Latinx, Asian, and Indigenous peoples have been systematically denied equal power and wealth. Desegregation was supposed to erase the disparity between the urban core neighborhoods and schools and the white suburbs, but in reality hasn’t

I now live in a diverse urban neighborhood. My church is one of the only Presbyterian churches in the city that is racially mixed. It was there as I made friends that I learned what walking or driving while Black meant if stopped by the police. My fear mingled with that of a mother who told me how her teenaged son and daughter were loaded into a police car simply because they were walking down the sidewalk. They grilled them, then let them go. They were actually looking for an older Black man. So why stop them? It’s traumatizing for people when they are immediately suspect just for the color of their skin.

 Black lives matter. The lives of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor mattered. So, too, the many other lives lost to unjustifiable lethal action. I struggle with the injustice I have seen and heard about. Sometimes I cry. It’s grief mingled with anger. Anger that must be channeled into positive action to bring justice and peace. Jesus said we would always have the poor, but what we do about it will matter when we are judged.

God is not a Republican. God is not a Democrat, either. Jesus is his face to us and he was not about keeping the status quo.  He ushered in a new kingdom in which we are to love and help the poor and needy, the disenfranchised and downtrodden. It’s not enough to say racism is wrong. Anti-racism must be our goal: to root out racism in our institutions including the church. And I must also seek to uncover my own hidden biases. The time has come for racial reconciliation and restitution. The church must take the first step. Then those who finally know justice will also know peace.

Paul's Question

Late last night I could not rest. The latest pronouncement from the nation's capital was completely mind-blowing and utterly disturbing. It was such a giant open threat that would overturn my life and the lives of everyone else who get by with social security income. I couldn't believe it at first, but then I considered the person behind the statement and realized he'd do it if he weren't thwarted. It would be a national disaster. 

So I tossed and turned. Even my sleep meds couldn't shut my mind down. Then I laid there awhile thinking of worship songs and praying for help. Just, "help." Then my prayer grew a little longer and deeper, though a simple "help" is pretty deep prayer when words fail. As I paused, scripture came to mind. I remembered most of the passage, but not all. So I got up and went to the living room and got my bible. 

I found it where I thought it was. Romans 8:26-39. I'm only going to put parts in here. Please read it in its entirety. In fact, read the whole chapter. It will reclaim you if you have been struggling. But verses 26-27 tell us the Spirit intercedes for us with sighs and groanings only God can understand. You have the Holy Spirit praying for you! 

    

We know that all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose. Verse 28. This verse has been taken out of context all too often. Usually, just the first half is tossed out as a comforting verse, but it has to be connected to the following verses 29-30. 

For those whom he foreknew, he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn within a large family. And those whom he predestined he also called; and those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified.

Things work out for good because his purpose is to transform us. And that is good news! However, transformation comes at a cost. The first cost was the Crucifixion. And Jesus clearly said to be his disciples we also had to suffer. The servant is not greater than the Master. So, Paul asks a question in the next verse (31a). What then are we to say about these things? This arduous journey we take through transformation can be a struggle, and sometimes painful as we die to our sinful flesh and grow into mature spiritual beings. Like Jesus. But take heart, Paul went on to give very encouraging words. 

If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God's elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Verses 31b-34. Those should make us feel secure. We are free from sin's death power.  Jesus is also interceding along with the Holy Spirit. They've got us covered. 

Paul closes with an even more potent passage that is for our upended crazy world. Global warming, multispecies extinctions due to overkill and loss of habitat, lack of prey, and pollution. The pandemic, the collapse of the economy. The racism that permeates the world and our nation in particular. The government's inactions and actions. The fighting and the gun violence. The wars, terrorism, and famines. The list could go on, but Paul has said we are predestined to glory and there is hope for us now.

Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written: For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered. No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced 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.  Verses 35-39

We are secure in hearing God speak to us. Nothing can separate us from God's love. Neither things present of which I listed some, nor things to come. The future is the great unknown. What's happening now will affect the future in unpredictable ways and even if we could predict, it would be overwhelming and frightening. But Paul says we are more than conquerors in the midst. 

Anxiety, anger, fear, and grief surrender to the all-encompassing love of God through Christ Jesus our Lord. Paul's words invite peace. They invite courage. I have had visions of things going from bad to worse. And maybe they will. But I am a conqueror and nothing, absolutely nothing can separate me from God's love. In answer to Paul's question, this is what I have to say about all these things.  

Citizens of Heaven

Anger is a double-edged sword. It can cut through the crap or cut through the heart in damaging ways. Lately I  have been angry with differing results. Some of it has been appropriate in light of certain issues, but it also has been harmful to me. The fact is, the people I have been most angry with are not within earshot. And frankly, probably could care less if they knew. The net result is a simmering self that only damages my heart. This true of everyone. We pierce ourselves when the sun sets on our anger.

A couple of days ago I was considering the state of our nation and the multiple crises sweeping it, the government's response and the anger came on. It swept me along and I couldn't stop the furious thoughts that overtook me. Suddenly in the midst of the clamor, I heard a still small voice. It cut through the cacophony as though it was bellowing, but it was a mere whisper: "You are not a citizen of the world."

I knew I had heard God. There was an immediate cessation of thoughts and I was left with just one response: "But I have to live in it." As soon as it slipped out I thought "oops" and I repented. But today I realize it was a legitimate thought. I just phrased it wrong. It should have been a question: "How do I live in the world then?" That would have been an appropriate response to God's message to me.

My anger has stemmed from the hard hearts and harshness of so many people. Of the vitriol that politicians are spouting. Of the horrid racism that is exploding from some in response to the legitimate protests. But I recognize anger rarely changes hearts. So, what would Jesus do? Really. I can get an idea from his prayer he told his disciples to pray. "Thy kingdom come on earth as it is heaven."

God's kingdom is marked by love, compassion, mercy, and justice. 

Love as in accepting people as they are and where they are and loving them unconditionally. That can be challenging if you are busy judging them by their actions and lifestyles. So stop it. Everyone bears the image of God.

Compassion as in helping those in need. Feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, visiting the sick and incarcerated. It's characterized as supplying worldly treasures to help the poor, just as Jesus told the rich young ruler to do. It's hard when you think God's blessing is based on possessing wealth. It's to share.

Mercy as in forgiving and placing yourself in the shoes of others. Everyone has a story. Unless you listen to it you will never be free of judgemental thinking. Yes, sometimes people create their own traumas, but no one wakes up and says "today I will ruin my life." Think of the mistakes you have made that were life-altering and show some mercy.

Justice as in seeing that the poor are not trampled down even more than their humble estate has left them. It is working toward anti-racism and racial reconciliation. It is finding alternatives to incarceration which does nothing to rehabilitate. It is challenging policies that work against justice for the vulnerable. Read the book of Proverbs and see how much is dedicated to justice. It will change the way you think if you allow the Holy Spirit to instruct you. So read it.

Above all, pray for those who rule that their eyes may be opened to see Jesus and for peace in our land.

 

We are citizens of heaven, but we live in the world. So let's live like Jesus died for everyone. 

Fear of Falling

I'm afraid of falling. Literally terrified of falling. The painful recovery from my broken leg has put fear in me in a new twist. I have taken dives throughout my life and gotten up, dusted myself off, and kept going. But a shattered leg changed that. I have osteoporosis. Another fall could mean another broken bone. I will get treatment for it. But if my mind returns to the injury event my heart rate goes up and I physically cringe. It's disturbing. But other things are even more disturbing.

I have a fear of falling spiritually as well. I have found myself with plenty of free time between broken leg, pandemic, and retirement to ponder my true condition. My prayer life is not spectacular and I only read a chapter or so of the bible daily. What I am furiously doing is pondering the state of our nation, politics, and racial injustice. I'm angry.

I tell myself it's righteous anger and I honestly believe much of it is. But anger without mercy is just anger and does little to promote peace and unity. I am righteously angry about the wolves in sheep's clothing ravishing the Church. Many claim to be God's instrument and voice, but have no compassion. They are whitewashed tombs. They are Pharisees. They are not gathering. They are scattering lives.

Then there are the wealthy who clamor for even more money breaking the hope of the poor and disenfranchised. They rob those with little for their ungodly greed. The prophet Nathan called out David for taking the one wife of Uriah when he had hundreds of concubines. Nathan likened him to a rich man stealing a poor man's single lamb for his feast when he had a huge flock. The love of money is indeed the root of all sorts of evil. 

I could go on, but my anger is coming back and lest I fall into hardheartedness, I must ask for mercy,  for me and for those who clamor for their way or the highway.  They breathe injustice. Jesus said, "Father, forgive them for they know not what they do." Those words still resonate today for those who would rush to crucify him anew in their blindness. Would I? Would you? Consider your answer prayerfully. 

Fear of falling. We should all take that to heart. God forgive our unrighteous anger and spur us on to merciful actions with anger that is justified. Then let us walk in peace knowing we have done all we can to shine a light in a very dark world. 

Grace for This Time

It’s getting old, this broken leg and hopping about with a walker. I go from bed to recliner and short forays elsewhere in the house. The only place I’ve gone since the first week of May has been one trip for x-rays. I’m stir crazy, depressed, and bored. I can only read and write so much. TV is mind-numbing; so are games. Even hospital stays were more stimulating.

My next outing will be the end of July for more x-rays to see if my leg is healed enough to allow walking. It’s a little over four weeks away but seems an eternity. I’ve been through dark times before, but at least I could get out of the house. Ennui has me in its grip. I miss working, the people I worked with and helping the public. I worked there for over sixteen years, and even though retiring is for the best, I haven’t fully processed what is a major life event.

That change no doubt contributes to my depression. There is an end in sight for my walker days, but retiring is a whole other thing. I tell myself I can always work part-time and I think of the volunteer opportunities to help people. I will look for those, but the library was a multifaceted job. My job duties were so varied. I never knew what the next question would be. And it provided professional as well as personal growth opportunities.

I’m grateful for having had that job and that employer. My mental health issues were accommodated for me to keep working. Over the years, I worked for six different managers and only one was not understanding or supportive. Those were dark days, but with God’s grace I kept my job.

As I have been writing this I have begun to feel a little lighter. Putting my thoughts down always helps. I’m sorry for those who are told to suck it up when they struggle. God doesn’t say that in the bible. The overarching message is grace extended to us in whatever state we are in. In human flesh, God came to know homelessness, hunger, fatigue, and suffering. Jesus walked in our shoes and understands. So I turn to him in my weakness knowing he doesn’t say pull up your big girl panties and I am grateful.

The Salt of the Earth

I recently had a Sunday off due to weather conditions and thought I'd try to find a church service on TV. I wasn't filled with hope, but found one and was halfheartedly watching, not liking the music. Still, I thought I'd stick it out a little longer for the sermon. The pastor was unassuming and had a lackluster style, but I decided to listen in spite of the impulse to turn it off. I was glad I did. His message was so on target. God was definitely speaking.

The scripture text was from the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus told the people they were salt to the world, but his sermon wasn't saying to go beat the bushes for Christ. Rather he talked about how precious a commodity salt was to those who were listening to Jesus. It only takes a little to pleasantly season food to make it desirable. And just as too much salt can ruin a dish and waste the food, a heavy-handed evangelizing approach can drive people away.

I thought about times when I said too much and turned people off. I also thought about the times I had used the bible as a handbook of sin to judge people. I cringed when I considered all of it. I then thought about the times those things were done to me in the name of Jesus and how I felt: hurt, bewildered, turned off, angry.  Not a good result for soul winners.

 Maybe getting older means getting wiser. I'm not nearly as anxious as I once was when faced with opposition to the gospel. I find myself speaking more often in measured responses. I find my judgment has been tempered with grace and mercy, realizing sometimes I'm just to pray quietly in my closet. It doesn't mean I never speak. It means I put myself in someone's shoes. I recall all the issues I've struggled with through the years and how very unhelpful many Christians have been. Quick to quote scripture in hurtful ways to show how far I have missed the mark. I have witnessed firsthand how many Christians beat those who don't share the faith instead of seasoning their words lightly with the salt of Christ.

It's a fearful thing to judge others. Jesus said the measure we use to judge is the measure by which we will be judged. I don't know about you, but that gives me pause. I've read through the bible many times, and the gospels countless times. Jesus seemed to save his words of judgment for the religious. The people just struggling to get by in faith were encouraged. He said his yoke is easy. This is the Savior who said be salt to the world. Take the burden off the shoulders of the poor and needy. Give gentle words to those who are unkind to you. Be merciful to the unjust, and help those who struggle. As scripture says, taste and see the Lord is good.

Racial Reconciliation

I am witnessing one of the most momentous times in our society I can remember. I lived through the Civil Rights era, the Vietnam war, the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the protests that were a part of those events. But what is happening now feels different. There is a solidarity that was missing in the past. There is also considerably less violence.

Yes, there was some looting, but the few people who do that are not the change agents who are peacefully protesting under their first amendment rights. Rioting hasn’t been widespread either. Not like I remember in the 60s. It has been subdued. And those who lost control are the most disenfranchised, whose voices have been ignored for so long they exploded in the face of resistance from authority. No, the majority is an amazing mix of races and ethnic groups, male and female, adults, teens and children. All marching together to say they want change to come at last.

There has been a widespread groundswell of response from all sectors of society, government, and business. Statues are toppling, some forcibly, some by policy makers in recognition the people are speaking. I heard it said if a person kidnapped your child and sold them, where would you want the statue of that person placed? Cuts to the heart of it. From a purely constitutional standpoint, the Confederates were traitors who actively turned on and killed fellow citizens in order to keep slaves. States rights was central to keeping slaves. Nothing glorious about that.

Some white people are already saying it’s too much. They aren’t racist so they shouldn’t have to listen this much. But true reconciliation cannot happen without hearing the whole truth and admitting our complicity in systemic racism even if we personally never acted ill toward people of color. There can be no reconciliation without sacrifice. Jesus demonstrated this. We can’t deny our complicity in his death.

This principle applies to the heritage of our black brothers and sisters, whose ancestors built much of American for free and not because they volunteered to. Those whose ancestors were routinely terrorized as they tried to build lives for themselves after they were freed. And in our times, we now incarcerate blacks fourteen times more often than their white counterparts. Walking or driving while black presents a whole set of issues unless you stay in your part of town.

I used to say I’m colorblind, but now I realize how mistaken that is. God made us different colors because it pleased him. He isn’t colorblind. To say we don’t see our differences is to devalue a nonwhite person’s culture and heritage. To recognize and appreciate our differences makes it possible to learn from one another. Yes, we are all children of God, regardless of our skin color, but rejoice in God’s creational purposes.

Seeing blatant racism is easy. But it's much harder to admit we have lived with white privilege for so long that we truly are not anti-racist. That means being intentional in listening and recognizing if you are having a knee-jerk reaction or want to argue why African Americans are asking too much. No. No they aren’t and if you think they are, you need to take your thoughts and heart before Jesus in abject recognition you are a part of the problem.

Be a changemaker. Be a peacemaker. Draw the circle larger to include more than those in your neighborhood and church. Love justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.

I Won't Give Up, But Damn It Hurts

It's been nine days since I shattered my leg and I have to tell you, this rivals labor pain sometimes. The sudden stabbing pains take my breath away, and the slow throbbing is constant. It's wearing. Today is a good day. Sponge bath, clean clothes, and washed hair. I have never taken showers for granted. Clean running water is a luxury for a select few in our world. But now, even more, I appreciate the ease with which I jumped in and out of the shower daily. I will be even more grateful when I can take my next shower in three months.

My shoulders are tender from pulled muscles as I carry my weight on the walker. I have to kind of scoot it, then jump one-legged holding my weight with my arms. But I am getting around. It's dicey getting through the bathroom door, but I am managing to negotiate it in the middle of the night. Twisting and turning and hopping, I make my way through the house. What I can't do, which is really almost everything, my husband does for me. I am utterly dependent. It's a little scary. If it weren't for his loving care, I'd be in a longterm care facility during a pandemic. And it's frustrating. I've always been an independent person. Now I find myself asking for help constantly.

I'm not a quitter, but this is the hardest thing I've ever experienced. High levels of pain, utter dependence, and fear of unresolved pain for the rest of my life from the injury make me feel a little down. I've battled depression off and on most of my life. I have done my best for the past thirty years to seek professional help and not give up. Willing myself to cling to the hope God gives, or in some extreme times, just letting him hold onto me in my utter weakness. I don't believe for one moment this was sent as a trial. This was an unfortunate accident. Life happens and I have to learn to cope with the Lord's grace and love.

But for those inclined to say this is a test, well, God willing, I'll pass. I'll cry sometimes and suffer some. I'll thank the Lord for his provision and tender care. I'll learn greater gratitude and humility, and in suffering, patience and perseverance. And I'll keep hopping forward, one-footed until I can put one foot in front of another as my life continues to unfold before me.

On a side note, I have chosen to go ahead and retire from my job. I can't work for three months and between pension and social security, I will be fine. I had planned on working for one more year, but after much thought and prayer, this seemed like the right time to venture into a new normal. Maybe I'll work part-time somewhere down the road, but for now, my job is to heal and strengthen. I'll try not to cuss too much.

Angels in Disguise

I’m nursing a damaged leg. Splintered tibia, fibula, fractured ankle and ligament damage, all the result of a misstep. All it took was one moment of taking my eyes off the road I was walking on. I stepped into a pothole and in the next instant was crumpled in the middle of the street in agonizing pain.

I knew it was broken, though not the extent of the damage. The next moment an angel appeared at my side in the form of a letter carrier who I had just waved to and saw it happen. She came over and pulled out her phone calling for an ambulance. Then she sat down beside me and held my hand. She spoke comforting words and stayed with me while the paramedics splinted my leg. Then she disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

My leg is pretty much toast. During an hour and a half long surgery, they inserted a rod into my tibia, fixed the fibula, and put screws in my ankle to repair the break and torn ligaments. Now I am left with a high level of pain and three months of hopping with a walker. I cannot let my leg touch the floor.

While I was in the hospital the angel came by our house to see how I was. She never works our street, was just filling in that day. I may never see her again, but I wanted to thank her for her act of kindness. I stayed calmer with her and my husband’s calmness. The burden of pain is easier when shared.

I’m going to be housebound for three months. I had just recovered from a prior broken fibula in my other leg. But that stress fracture was a piece of cake compared to this. I wish this on no one. A leg full of metal and stitches. Thank goodness for pain medications. And thank God for unexpected angels who appear in our times of need. I can only hope I will be just as much an angel when I see a person in pain.

I Will Praise Him Still

Sunday marks three weeks since my employer shut down due to Covid-19. I've been sheltering in place since then and have been okay for the most part. Down a little lately, but trying to not let the daily news get to me. I could stop watching it and binge watch The Crown again, but I've always been diligent to keep up on the news and it's a hard habit to break.

I've also been kept from doing a lot because my leg still requires me to stay off it. Just for another week, though, and then I can try going without the boot. There are housecleaning needs I will attend to immediately, but while that will make me feel a little better, it won't make up for not feeling productive. I've lost all sense of routine. The only thing I do regularly is tune into church over the internet and that is a lifeline to sanity in a time when life has been upended. 

Mental health isn't just taking the right pills. It's built on emotional, spiritual and physical well being. My physical is undermined by the leg. I can't go for walks, which would help immensely. Being at loose ends undermines my emotional health. I'm used to doing a daily job in which I help people. I'm cut off from that. Spiritually, I'm hanging onto the zoom services which connect me to my church family. I'm praying and doing daily bible reading, but I still find depression creeping in. 

Fatigue, inactivity, and not being out among other humans is taking its toll. I'm battling in a way I haven't for awhile. God is nearby, I believe. He hasn't abandoned me or any of his people. I have a bedrock of faith to stand on, but David had times of despair. His many laments bring home the truth that even people of faith sometimes lose the sense of joy. I could quote entire chapters of the Psalms that portray a man who was broken and sorrow-filled. Some of it from his own doing, some from the doings of others.

Yet, in the midst of trials and pain, he would remind himself God was faithful to his many promises. God would yet comfort and restore. And he chose to praise him even when he was bent low. His eyes, though sometimes swimming with tears, would remain fixed on God. He was a man after God's own heart. I will take my cues from him. Cry if I need to and hold fast to the faithfulness of God. As the Fernando Ortega song says "And he gave us life in his perfect will, and by his good grace I will praise him still."

Amen.

The God of My Understanding

On March 26, 1984, I awoke with the thought, "I don't want to live like this anymore. Today I will not drink." It was a revolutionary thought. For fifteen years I had drunk myself to into stupors, blacking out and needing the next drink to stop the shaking, the fear of facing life without it. My life was in tatters and I contemplated suicide daily. 

The thought of not drinking was terrifying. I didn't remember what life looked like without drinking. I surrounded myself with drinkers so it seemed normal to the extent any addiction can seem normal. But Divine intervention had come that morning in a simple thought. That day, I did not drink. 

By the following day, I was shaking and hurting badly. But that one thought kept going through my mind. Several years earlier I had been hospitalized due to drinking. There I had been introduced to AA. Now my back was against the wall and all I could remember was AA. I looked in the phone book and found the nearest AA group and called them. 

That evening, I went to an AA meeting. It was terrorizing to go. I had rejected AA before because they talked about surrendering to God as we understood him. The God of my understanding was vindictive, demanded perfection and looked for ways to trip you up and send you straight to Hell. I couldn't fathom trying to please an angry God. Yet, the God they presented was keeping them sober. They seemed to be somewhat happy and sane. There were different understandings, but somehow, the message got through that God would help me if I surrendered my life and will to him. 

I remember clearly the day a week later that I drove home and prayed, "Jesus, I don't deserve anything but hell, but if you'll take me I'd be grateful." That very moment I was flooded with peace unlike I had ever experienced. I knew I was going to be okay. I knew I would live. And even though navigating life now without a drink was difficult, I knew I could do it. Every morning I prayed to not drink, and every night I thanked God for another day of sobriety and for a new life that made sense. 

It's been thirty-six sometimes tumultuous years, but through some very trying times, I've never wanted a drink. The thought is anathema to me. And throughout the years, the God of my understanding has transformed into the  Lord of Love and Peace and reconciliation. I can't imagine where I would be without him. I owe him my all. My love and my adoration. 

Thank you, Lord, for another day of sobriety. 

Love Your Neighbor

It's a one news item world right now. Crime, the Middle East, natural disasters, and human interest stories are all taking a back seat to the coronavirus sweeping the globe. While it's not reached plague level deaths, the death rate is quite high compared to influenza that has up to this point killed more people. But right now, it's okay that it takes front and center. We need to live in love more than ever.

What do I mean? Jesus said one of the two greatest commandments was to love your neighbor as yourself. It's often expressed as the golden rule: Do unto others as you would have done unto you. There are those who are arguing this whole thing is being blown out of proportion. But as I mentioned before, the death rate is higher than influenza and it strikes the elderly disproportionally, as well as those with compromised immune systems. Those who are less likely to become severely ill must think about those who could.

Please think about buying everything on the store shelves before you do it. Everyone needs extra. We don't need to stockpile unnecessarily for months. Just weeks. If we follow the requests for social distancing, we will be less likely to get sick or be an unknown carrier. I work with the public daily, and frankly, I'm getting uncomfortable. My employer is taking steps to minimize risks, yet I'm 64 and taking a medication that suppresses my immune system. I'm not losing sleep over it, but I'm vigilant and thoughtful. And God understands canceled church services. My congregation is on the older side. We need to think about them interacting with younger people who could be asymptomatic.

Some are saying it's the end times. Could be, though they thought it was the end times in Paul's era. God is not missing in action. He's near his children throughout the world. And I'm always hesitant to declare Divine judgment. I don't pretend to know God's thoughts and ways. They are above mine. He said so. But I do believe this can be a time to show charity to the world by Christians stepping up to think of others more than they think of themselves. To remember food banks and to check on their elderly neighbors. To not think I don't need to worry, forgetting the vulnerable.

Love your neighbor as yourself and show God's face to the world. What you do to the least of these you do to Jesus.

Pain's Lesson

I’ve been on a hiatus from blogging for the past several months. Life sometimes gets in the way, but right now I’m sitting on the couch with my laptop nursing a broken leg. Good time as any to write.

I broke it ten days ago, and I don’t know what I did. I walked on it for over a week, in excruciating pain thinking it was an arthritis flare in my ankle. Never broke a bone before and the thought never entered my mind of that possibility. I finally sought medical help and the x-ray showed a clear break above the ankle. One friend called me a bad-ass and my son said I was hardcore to have gone that long before seeking help. But pain eventually gets you where you need to go.

Pain is a great motivator. Whether it’s physical or mental, it can only be ignored for so long. Even the most hardened people will eventually respond to pain’s insistent prodding. How we respond reveals our true emotional state. Some people waste no time when they hurt and seek help right away. Their emotional I.Q. is high. They realize when they are in high water and seek out what they need to not only survive, but to thrive in their circumstances.

Some take much longer and respond in unhealthy ways to pain. I fall into that category at times. Since I’m being totally honest, I can say I’ve come a long way from the days of self-destructive behaviors. My response to pain is more often to look for the cause than to cover up. Alcoholics drink to minimize pain. It works for awhile, until the pain of over consumption brings its own suffering: Broken relationships, lost jobs, lost self-esteem, jail, loss of health and even death.

Alcohol, drugs, risky behaviors, violence, and suicide are all ways to deal, albeit unhealthy, with pain. But pain is supposed to motivate us to seek help. It’s an alarm system to warn us something is not right. Whether it’s emotional, spiritual or physical, pain is an unavoidable part of our lives. And while it’s unpleasant, it’s ultimately a good thing. It brings awareness to our true condition. Life without pain might sound good, but like the butterfly that gains strength through struggle, so do we. I look back over the years and see good coming out of turmoil. My broken places leak mercy.

So, this bad-ass, hardcore lady is staying off her leg and letting people take care of her. I’m having to learn not to feel guilty about it. I can also say with absolute conviction, if this ever happens again, I will let pain guide me to seek help sooner than later.

Trading My Sorrows

I'm home today. Came home from work early yesterday. The pain of arthritis has been overwhelming, along with fatigue. I was able to get in the same day to see my rheumatologist and my pain level was so high my blood pressure was 169/100. I think he's a good doctor, but conservative. He admitted the pain medication was a low dose. So he doubled it and added a steroid, which I have mixed feelings about, but I'm a desperate woman. Steroids can interfere with sleep, trigger mania, and cause weight gain. I'm already overweight. I asked for and got a cortisone shot for good measure. Pain is still there, but he said with the steroid I should notice a difference by Monday.

I'm off work the rest of the week. I slept better last night. The sleep apnea is getting under control. God is good. I trust him for the strength and grace to work through the pain and to help me keep my job. I have two more years before I can retire. The job is high stress and it's wearing me down. But I have hope things will work out. Paul said he had learned to live the life of faith under all circumstances. Good times and not so good times. Times of plenty and times of lean. At least I have yet to be stoned to death.

Paul is a role model for living victoriously in all manner of suffering, and his life continues to inspire and place things in perspective. King David's mood swings and times of depression give me the grace to know God is not disappointed in me. David would always come around to praising God after his tears. Paul, though, seemed to keep his emotions in check, though there are references to his being sorrowful and angry. Still, mostly he persevered in holding onto joy in spite of suffering. It's a lesson for me and no doubt for other Christians suffering trials.

There was a popular praise song about 20 years ago that said, "I'm trading my sorrows, I'm trading my shame. I'm laying them down for the joy of the Lord. I'm trading my sickness, I'm trading my pain. I'm laying them down for the joy of the Lord."  "Though sorrow may last for the night, joy comes with the morning." My fingers hurt as I type this. I no longer play guitar, which was never in my plans for my life. Guitar playing was always going to be. But life doesn't always go according to our plans and dreams. But the constancy of the Lord is ever there. His love, mercy, and grace don't depend on us, it's all about Jesus and God's character.

I don't know what tomorrow will bring. I don't know if my pain will be better by Monday. I don't know if my sleep will continue to improve. I don't know my work future. But I know my Redeemer. He will guide, provide, and comfort. He will defend and bless. He goes before me and shields me from behind. Whom shall I fear? Truly.

New Hope

I should maybe preface this with a statement to the effect that it’s been awhile since my last post. And it has been. My last entry may have been read as a downer, but it wasn’t. During one hospital outpatient program that I was placed in after a nine-day inpatient stay, we covered a lot of territory about the suffering that accompanies mental illness. Coping skills were taught, but the most amazing lesson came toward the end of my three weeks. It was called “Radical Acceptance.” Deconstructed down to its fundamental meaning, radical acceptance is accepting you have a mental illness, that it causes suffering and sometimes, nothing can be done to change that fact.

There was a collective gasp among the participants, and some wasted no time in saying it wasn’t fair. Others like me, sat in silence. Radical acceptance was a radical concept. My mind flipped to the story of Job and understood he had traveled an arduous journey through unbearable suffering, and God’s response was this: accept it. I thought of Jesus and his radical acceptance of the crucifixion. God had decreed there was no other option for the redemption of humanity. Radical. Acceptance.

My last blog entry was, in fact, radical acceptance of chronic sleep deprivation. I was no longer going to fight God. I was no longer going to pray about it. It is what it is. In that place, something unexpected occurred. My new psychiatrist insisted that I see a sleep specialist. I had undergone a sleep study some twenty-five or so years ago and they found nothing to keep me from sleeping. But she felt it needed to be looked at again. I’ll skip all the steps and go straight to the point. The study concluded I had sleep apnea and my oxygen level had actually dropped into the ’80s for a bit. Alarm bells went off in the heads of the doctors. When I was given that diagnosis, I broke down and cried. It meant something besides multiple sleeping pills could be done. They were failing me anyway. Maybe there was a reason to hope.

In four days I am getting a CPAP machine. I had resisted writing about this because what if it really doesn’t keep me asleep through the night? I’m off work on FMLA again because things were moving. When I become so sleep deprived stationary things start moving, then I’m in real trouble. I shouldn’t be driving, and my job’s professional expectations are not being met. I can’t do my job. I was told to go home and do not return until I am under control again. So, I am at least not facing the public bleary-eyed and sluggish of mind.

I still have radical acceptance. God is in charge and whatever he wills, I accept. But I’d be a liar if I didn’t admit to having renewed hope that something will happen. That I might get even six hours of uninterrupted sleep. I am also humbly asking for prayers. I will write again when I have tried out this medical marvel. People who have used them said it was life-changing. Well, I’m all about life-changing and morphing into Christlikeness.

I will be still and know he is God.

Sometimes, the Answer is No

So, is it a sin? I stopped praying for sleep sometime back. I think others are still praying for me, but I don’t ask anymore. It’s been years of pleas, groveling, demanding, begging, and “if it’s your will” prayers. I have just stopped. For as many years as I have sent prayers up for sleep, I’ve concluded his answer is simply, no. And there is no argument against God’s no. He said, “I open doors that cannot be shut, and shut doors that cannot be opened.” That’s pretty much the end of any effort to sway God.

That hasn’t stopped me from seeking human medical intervention. Maybe there is still another drug to try, or maybe a condition that can be corrected. I’m going to be monitored for three nights to see if I have sleep apnea. I’m not hopeful. Not anymore. I was told if it’s not sleep apnea, then I would see a chronic insomnia specialist. Definitely no hope there. I’ll go, but unless the person has a magic elixir, I’ve tried it all. I will hold the line on animal sacrifice and voodoo, but anything else I’ll try at least once.

So, the question. Is it a sin to stop asking for something and no longer hope for it when you're seeking something from God? I feel some would answer yes. They’d quote Jesus’ words to pray and not stop praying in his parable about the unjust judge and the poor woman, because she prevailed. But some would say no and quote Paul’s prayers to have a thorn in his flesh removed. God told him no. No. God said his grace would be sufficient for him. So, two sides to one question.

But it doesn’t stop there. I can sense judgment from some readers. It would be easy to twist the words of Jesus and use them to condemn me for a number of things: lack of faith, not believing God enough, giving up. But those who would lean that direction assume God always says yes, when clearly Paul was told no. Those are the ones who must walk in the shoes of the sufferer before rushing to judgment. The answer lies in grace. Always grace. Maybe I’m totally off base, but any response that does not extend grace is the wrong response. Always.

So, may I be extended grace in no longer asking God for sleep. I believe he’s answered me. No, Susan. My grace is sufficient for you. Perhaps his no is no I won’t do a miracle, but maybe medical intervention will still come through. But I must somehow live with this condition and its consequences. I may not be able to work sometimes. I may be too tired to think straight sometimes. I may not be able to drive sometimes and miss out on somethings because of utter fatigue. I was hospitalized once from an extended lack of any sleep to the point of hallucinating. Life expectancy is shortened from lack of sufficient sleep. Weight gain, early onset dementia, other health issues as well. I’ll need all the grace God will give to live like this.

And in case you’re wondering, I still love God. I still trust him. I still need him in every imaginable way. I hope in his promise of salvation. I will never fully understand until the day I meet with him face to face. There are believers who suffer much greater than I do, so I will never stop loving and hoping in God for my final deliverance from this body of corruptible flesh. And holding onto the grace he gives to live in a fallen world, weak in the flesh and tired.

The Language of Love

I have slept approximately six to seven hours over the past three days. I went to work Monday after two hours of sleep and had a miserable day. I made it through the day, but told my boss I was taking a sick day Tuesday, which was wise. I slept no better. My sleep has become a fugitive. I had a scheduled psychiatric appointment Tuesday and I went. She seemed alarmed at me. I gradually told her how sleep has been diminishing and she strongly urged I take a week or two FMLA. I was too tired to argue and set it up with my HR department.

I've been a troubled sleeper for years and have taken just about every drug under the sun. Every suggested herbal, change of bedtime behaviors. and exercise has failed. I was sleeping about five hours a night the past couple months on higher sleep medication, but no longer. About four years ago I went ten days without any sleep and ended up in the hospital, hallucinating and begging help. I was finally put back on an antipsychotic that made me sleep, but also gained 60 pounds. I stopped taking it, but now I am sleepless and fat. To be honest, if they suggest going back on it, I will balloon up to 300 pounds, but if I sleep, I'll live with it.

I can't think straight right now and this is probably messy, but at times of sheer hopelessness and helplessness, I turn to my paternal grandmother's old Episcopal Book of Common Prayer from the 1940s. I was given it when she passed away and I treasure it. I know some Christians think the archaic language of her generation is dead and useless, but it resonates within me. She and many other believers whispered the prayers of this small book and found great comfort therein. I have several bookmarked and pray them when I am empty and have no power to create my own.

Let me share one. "Turn Thou us, O good Lord, and so shall we be turned. Be favorable, O Lord, Be favorable to Thy people, Who turn to Thee in weeping, fasting, and praying. For Thou art a merciful God, Full of compassion. Long-suffering, and of great pity. Thou sparest when we deserve punishment, And in Thy wrath thinkest upon mercy. Spare Thy people, good Lord, spare them, And let not Thine heritage be brought to confusion. Hear us, O Lord, for Thy mercy is great, And after the multitude of Thy mercies look upon us; Through the merits and mediation of Thy blessed Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."

Turn Thou us, O good Lord, and so shall we be turned. What a most marvelous prayer request. I am weak these days, and my bipolar disorder could flare from lack of sleep. I'm truly bereft of hope for sustainable sleep from the specialist I meet with next week. But, even with an empty and troubled mind, I have words lovingly crafted to use long before I was born. A spiritual heritage handed down to me. I will cling to the cross which led to such petitions. And wait upon the Lord.

It's All Good

Sometimes I engage in wishful thinking. Everybody does at one time or another. It can be simple and harmless, such as I wish I had a bowl of ice cream. Actually, right now I do, but I am trying hard not to eat dairy. Other wishful thinking is not so innocuous. Wishing harm on others, wishing to be rich without any effort on your part, wishing to have an easy life, which often comes at the expense of others and can lead to selfish slothfulness.

But lately, I really have been wishing for an easier life. I still have daily struggles due to inadequate sleep. I weigh far too much, yet I am not exercising as I truly need to. I have far too much stress from work that's affecting me physically and emotionally, yet I have dragged my feet about therapy (though I did finally make an appointment and have seen a therapist for one session so far). I wish I did not have bipolar disorder and so much anxiety. I want to be able to retire now, but I'm only 64. I have to work for at least two more years. There are debts to be paid off first. And I have to have medical insurance.

Yet, I am making changes. I found a new psychiatrist who really listens and is addressing the anxiety which my prior one did not. I have made an appointment with a sleep specialist to see if I can have a sleep study done. I saw the therapist and have another appointment in a week. I am going to go on a daily walk after work, weather permitting, and I may try Tai chi.

I am trying to cope with arthritic pain. Giving up playing guitar after 54 years wasn't an easy decision. And I actually listed my beautiful guitar for sale on Craigslist, but thought better of it and pulled the ad. I asked my son if it had any sentimental value to him, and it does, so he will keep it in the family. I cried when he said that. My son was immersed in music growing up. Music has been such a huge part of my life. It was a form of prayer.  So, I have a lap dulcimer and I am going to teach myself how to play it. It will be easier on my joints. Joni Mitchell played lap dulcimer on many of her recordings, so I have set the bar high.

Where is God in all this? He has hemmed me in. Christ before me, Christ behind me. Christ above me, Christ beneath me and Christ at my side. I cannot flee from his presence. Wherever I go, he is there. He is as near as the very air I breathe. Life is always evolving. I don't know what lies in the future other than glory at the end. But the journey to glory is filled with detours and sometimes dangers. The only map I have is scripture and the still small voice of God.

All this to say I have reached radical acceptance. By that I mean I accept I may never be free of psychiatry and medications. Arthritis could progress and worsen. Maybe I'll never know the bliss of a full night's sleep. I have spent many years arguing, pleading, bargaining, and at times angry with my back turned to God because of various trials. But radical acceptance leads me to kneel before my maker and bless him for making me and learning to be content, whatever my lot. All told, God has blessed me beyond measure. I admit I have wasted years complaining to him, all for naught. I may not have much, but for what I have I will be grateful.

There is an old gospel song that goes, "God has smiled on me,  he has set me free. God has smiled on me, he's been good to me." It's true. God looks at me and smiles. His face shines upon me. More than ever, I want to dare to look at him and smile back. It's all good. It really is. May you also see God's smile and taste his goodness. Because it really is all good.

Life's Adversities

I'm sitting in a hospital room, by my husband's side. His alarming symptoms yesterday prompted a call for an ambulance and a visit to the ER.

For the record, he's going to be okay. A bad case of vertigo from an inner ear issue. Completely fixable. But he's been miserable and I know exactly what he's going through because I had the same thing happen to me about thirty years ago. I feel bad for him.

Being here takes me back to the bedside visits to my dad and mom. I can't count the number of hospitalizations my father had. So many things went wrong after his heart attack. But the five years they gave him turned into thirty. He was a fighter.

He didn't sit around until near the end. He and my mom delivered food for Meals on Wheels for twenty-five years. Same with working in a food pantry. My father did his best to help get utilities paid and give groceries for a week to desperate people. He judged no one. He just took people at face value and tried to help.

When my son was little, we'd go once a week to help at the food pantry. My son would put donations on the shelves and help put food sacks together. It was a good lesson for both of us. We didn't have much money, but seeing the needs of others gave us compassion and appreciation for the little we did have.

My father's faith fed people and the spiritual lives of both my parents are my heritage. It's also the heritage my son was left with. We both took their deaths hard. They were so alive and served the Lord to the end. The hole that's been left in our hearts is still there.

My father showed my son what honesty, fairness, strength, love and faith looked like in ways only a grandparent can. And my son reflects it. He was with my father that day he died. It was a hard death and I know my son grieved deeply. But my father accepted his manner of going and was brave.

My husband is just like my father in so many ways. They say women marry men like their fathers. Might be some truth to that. He's taking this health issue as well as can be expected. I want my son to know that. And he will. Even more, I see the same attitudes in my son with his health.  He lives with pain daily and yet goes on with life with zest and drive.

What a fortunate woman I am to have lived a life surrounded by men of integrity, whose strength is shown in love. My father, my husband, and my son. I am blessed beyond measure for I have seen the face of Jesus in each of them.

New Beginnings

Today, the Lord and I had a conversation at church, my first Sunday not playing with the praise team. I cried through the music. Couldn't sing a word. It was painful. I'd glance up at the music stand I had sat at and just cry. Something was being taken away,  and even though I was willing for it to happen, it hurt.

Yet, today something else happened. I answered God's call to take back the mantle of being an active elder in the church. It requires the same commitment I gave to help lead worship. As I answered the required questions about my faith and commitment I felt earnest, yet not overwhelmed. But when the time came for other elders to lay hands on me and pray, I felt a burden lift. By the end of the service I was smiling. There is a weight of responsibility in being an elder  actively serving, but I didn't feel that. I distinctly felt a burden lifted. I was at a fork in the road, and made the decision to walk the path leading in a different direction.

My Pastor's sermon was about new beginnings, the dawning of God's light illuminating a new thing. I felt it was for me. God talking to me as though I was the only one there. Then we had communion, and nothing so moves me as that. I cannot take communion without tears. It's a visible manifestation of God's grace poured out fresh. I get very real with the Lord with communion. Maybe it's my Lutheran roots, but I take communion very seriously. It's not just a symbol, a reenactment. I meet God practically face-to-face in the bread and cup. My soul is laid bare and I can only pray for mercy. It always comes. God has never passed me by. In remembering his death, I experience the depth of his love all over again.

This blog entry is a little disjointed, I think, but a lot happened in the service. I'm being called to a new thing and God will give me all the grace I need to do what he wants. Just as he has down through the past nearly forty years of playing guitar in worship for churches.  I know I can always sit in with the praise team. Another guitar player may show up and that would be awesome, but they'd still welcome me to play on a Sunday. But I know there has been an internal shift. My focus is being redirected and I will embrace what God has planned and be open. And part of that is the desire to write even more.

So, as I just toss these thoughts down on digital paper, I'm looking at the guitar I have played for the past forty plus years and understand my way of serving is changing and arthritic fingers can manage to type easier than play steel strings. God never ceases to amaze me, and he always will.

Count Your Blessings

It's the first day of 2019 and it a dreary, overcast cold blustery day. I woke up in pain as usual and found all we had was decaf coffee. I was counting down to the moment my headache was going to kick in. But something shifted and I drank the decaf while reading about a positive challenge. Set a timer for fifteen minutes and write down all the blessings you can think of from 2018 in that time frame. Sounded like a good writing exercise, but more than that, a perfect way to start 2019. If I received blessings in 2018, chances are really high I will receive them in 2019. Some might be the same, But there is hope for a surprise or two.

So what was my blessings list? I will insert the fact that I m a two finger typist. At 40-60 words a minute, I would have recorded more, for I just opened my mind and kind of went stream of consciousness. I was still typing when the timer went off.

1. My husband 

2. My beautiful son 

3. Clean drinking water anytime I want it. 

4. Family 

5. A job 

6. A house that's paid for.

7. A working car, soon to be paid for 

8. Loving friends 

9. Modern medicine 

10. A church home. 

11. A great pastor 

12. Shoes to keep my feet warm and dry 

13. Decent clothes 

14. Supermarkets with an abundance of all kinds of foods 

15. Bug-free house 

16. My dog, Zed 

17. My cat, Wild Thing 

18. A smartphone 

19. A new laptop 

20. My first published book. 

21. My guitar 

22. Health 

23. Living in a democracy 

24. Jesus. should have been number one. 

25. People who have prayed for me. 

26. Freedom of speech 

27. Being able to help others in accordance with how God has blessed us. 

28. Flowers 

29. Nature's beauty 

30. The Christian heritage my parents left me. 

31. Not having to worry where my next meal is coming from. 

32. Imagination and creativity 

33. No hospitalizations this past year 

34. Having had second chances 

35. The surprise visit from my son on my birthday. It was a BIG blessing. 

That's what came to my mind in fifteen minutes. 2018 had a few bad moments, but gratitude for the past year's blessings outweighs all the down time. What about you? It seems like a good way to begin a new year.

A New Year, a New Path

Today is a huge day for me. I just took a step in a new direction. I played my last time with my church's praise team. I've sat on the podium for eighteen years playing guitar. That adds up to a lot of Sundays. Before 2000, I was a worship leader and played guitar for two other churches beginning in 1984. And before that, played some for the church of my youth and a Christian band in high school. I've played guitar for over fifty years, having taken my first attempted strums at the age of ten.

I threw my hat in the ring in my early twenties for some all female folk rock bands. Played around town a little, but nothing came of it. It wasn't meant to be. Tried going solo, recording an album of my own Christian compositions in Nashville. Wanted to be the next big star. The producer took it around and pitched it, but no record label picked it up. It wasn't meant to be.

Serving God doesn't mean big tent revival meetings and giant ministries traveling the world or performing on the big stage. There are people called to that, but that's not what God had in mind for me. My service has been limited to churches numbering maybe 125 or so. And now, the numbers have dwindled down to maybe 30-40. But I've been where God wanted me for different seasons. God counts lives touched by us one at a time. It's my true heart's desire that these past years have born fruit for his glory. I have sought no recognition, just showing up Sunday mornings to sit on a stool off to the side not entirely visible, a preference. Just to offer my guitar playing to the Lord. Sometimes feeling overwhelmed spiritually, other times struggling just to play. My emotions sometimes raw and bleeding, and at times dull. But I was doing what God wanted me to do. He gave me a gift and I used it. Now he's leading me a new direction.

I feel strangely numb at the moment. Which is odd. Playing guitar in church has been my identity for my entire adult life. I am now 63. I have accompanied many singers and played with many different musicians over the years. I expected tears as I was packing up my guitar for the last time this morning. I felt numb. Maybe the Lord is doing me a kindness. Now I have to learn a whole new identity as a servant of God. I know I have been released to write beyond blogging. And I know some part of  past experience  or innate knowledge will now come into play, but what it's going to look like I haven't a clue.

It will be a new year in two days, and my new ministry begins. Using my mind and words instead of holy emotions and hands. I must remember one is not superior to the other and God given talents can be used in a multitude of ways. I am still a part of the Body. Not sure what part I am now, but God will make that known. There will be a time of adjustment, and not just for me.

My prayer is I hold tightly to the Lord's hand as he leads me. Life is changing. Like the Godly women of old who followed their nomad husbands to unknown lands and futures as they followed the Lord's leading, so too, I will follow where God is leading. It's a little scary. Well, a lot scary. But my life is in God's hands and I want to please him. So, here I am, just as I am, and waiting and watching for him to lead me down a new path to an unknown future. May I have the heart of Mary and let it be done.

Waiting

Today I awakened with a migraine. It’s Saturday and my hopes of catching up on sleep were dashed. I did what I normally do. Got up, took a double dose of Motrin and drank coffee. After about two hours the pain eased up and I felt like not having to cry. It was a rough Friday at work and I think the stress wasn’t relieved by sleep, hence the headache.

I have been home sick twice this month. I rarely ever get sick, but now I take a medication for my rheumatoid arthritis that suppresses the immune system a bit. It’s frustrating. But I don’t want RA spreading, so I take it. We live in fragile shells and have to cope with whatever happens in them. I’m not feeling sorry for myself. I have the ability to put things in perspective when I look at how others suffer far worse. My ailments are miniscule.

But I am struggling with Christmas. It’s always been a struggle in my adulthood. Americans make it such a spectacle. Both magical and commercial. Even the church can get caught up in the hype. My senses get bombarded by commercials and Christmas music that drones on endlessly. And all the while I wonder when Jesus will show up.

My church is low key in a good way. There is a tree and an empty manger, but the decorations are restrained. In the past it was covered with red and green and lights. I feel far more comfortable with less. It’s like Jesus isn’t going to get missed. He’ll be front and center when his time comes. I don’t want to lose what anticipation I have mustered.

This may seem a poor blog entry, but there are people just like me who are brokenhearted at Christmas. I think of being with my mother when she passed away during the Advent season. I still cry and it’s been five years. She was longing to go home and I whispered in her ear that it was okay to let go. She looked at me and said thank you. I did it knowing full well I would soon be kissing her for the last time. She passed away the next morning. I sobbed when I realized she was no longer breathing. It was a hard Christmas. But I am grateful I had the chance to say I was sorry for hurts and disappointments I had caused. And to say I loved her one last time. I have a peace about that.

Jesus is the reason for the season. Somehow my joy needs to be rekindled by him. I owe all to him. I was so lost. And he has given me a life beyond what I could have ever imagined. Challenges yes, but without him I’d be dead. No drama, just fact. I’m ready for his coming into the world. I won’t mind the Christmas music of the angels because they won’t detract from the King in the manger. They’ll announce his birth, then leave behind a silent night of wonder and mystery.

I can’t make myself be sociable for holiday parties. I just want to be in his presence. Worshipping the way he has taught me. Not like anyone’s expectations of how worship should look. But between the Lord and me. In the church we stand together. But we kneel alone before him. I might be struggling this Christmas season, but Jesus is near. And he is not judging. That was done at the cross. He is a sympathetic high priest. In the midst of pain, I will adore him. And he will love me.

Advent Hope

For a child has been born for us, a son is given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. His authority shall grow continually, and there shall be endless peace for the throne of David and his kingdom. He will establish it and uphold it with justice and with righteousness from this time forward and forevermore. The zeal of the Lord of Hosts will do this. Isaiah 9:6-7 NRSV

It's been a long time since I last posted. Many things have come together to form a perfect storm of sorts to hinder my walk with the Lord. Physical and mental ills have conspired to keep me from turning daily to the One who loves me and keeps me. I have been cold, which is bad, but at least according to Jesus is preferable to lukewarm. My years long daily routine of morning prayer and bible reading just fell by the wayside as depression began to rear it's frightful head. I have been battling an increasingly deepening depression and adding to that the holiday blues I've generally fought for years that has been exacerbated by the anniversary of my mother's death at Christmas, and the fact that son will not be home for the holidays has all added up to a downward spiral.

A decision by my doctor to drop one med and double another turned out to be fatefully bad. Changes have been made, but medications take time to work. Weeks, sometimes as long as six, which leaves me on shaky ground this Advent season.

I opened with a well known quote from Isaiah about our blessed Redeemer. Our most precious gift from our Creator, given to us who did not deserve it. As a child I remember being told Santa was watching to see if I was good or bad. A gift depended entirely on my merit. But the Father gave his only Son to us who had no merit due to good behavior. The gift of eternal salvation was bestowed on a wayward and blind people, who walked in ignorance of truth. Beauty distorted, promises broken, lies passed for truth and no one could even begin to comprehend what true love and forgiveness was. Yet here, centuries before the birth of Christ, hidden among some heavy prophecy, is a promise spoken to bring hope to a world in short supply of it.

Advent hope is a universal gift, yet it spreads one heart at a time. Hearts that long for something more that just a day to day existence. Hearts hungry for a love that will never fade or leave. Broken hearts that see only through a veil of tears. Disturbed hearts, torn by violence and deprivations. And lonely hearts that see no companion to share the journey.

Advent hope comes into a sin weary world. Some announce it from the roof tops, loudly proclaiming the coming of the King. But I see Advent hope speaking gently and with carefully chosen words to individuals who are stumbling along the path, promising to come alongside and stay for the journey. I see Advent hope starting small and unassuming in the heart that cries out for hope and just as a spark kindles a flame that burns brightly, the Light of the world begins to shine in the dark hidden places and soon his light and warmth spreads to all corners of the heart and that renewed heart in turn brings the good news to the one nearby. One by one, Advent hope spreads. The Long awaited Prince of Peace enters in and at his coming and sorrow gives way to joy. Confusion turns to wonder, and the broken are bound up for the healing process.

I feel worn and broken at the beginning of this Advent season. I know I am not alone. But I will not shut my mind to the promise. If I've learned anything at all in my life, it is Jesus appears unexpectedly and never empty-handed. Just when you feel another step isn't possible, an arm braces you up and you keep walking.

Join with me this advent season in looking forward to what God has planned from before the foundation of the world. Let's wait to hear what he will speak in his still small voice. And let's reach out to one another in Christian love, bearing the weak, speaking words of grace to one another, singing hymns to the Savior and praying for the hope than cannot die.