Don't be afraid

We have this cat, Joe Kitty, who doesn't see very well, and so she pretty much stays indoors. But she still loves fresh air and sunshine. It has been warm and sunny lately, and we have had our office window open. Needless to say, Joe Kitty has been hanging out by it. Yesterday, a really loud plane flew overhead. Of course, because the window was open, it was even louder than planes usually are. It was the kind that make you run to see if they are planning to land on the roof. Joe Kitty was petrified. She couldn't even run. She just made herself as flat as she could and hoped it wouldn't see her. I just kept right on typing. When it was over, Joe Kitty tiptoed over to me and looked at me quizzically, almost as if to say, "You weren't afraid!" So I picked her up and held her close and petted her and said to her, "I wasn't afraid, so you don't need to be either." And I could feel her muscles relax and she started purring.

And I thought, That's how God holds us too, in our times of fear and doubt, and He says to us, "I am not afraid, so you don't need to be either."

A Chair is a Chair

When I was in college, one of my education professors cautioned us not to jump too quickly to a diagnosis of dyslexia in young readers. He went on to explain that up until a child learns to read, position doesn’t matter. For example, a chair is a chair, whether it is facing right or left or if it is upside down. One of my very first memories of reading was that I had written my name on the inside of the lid of my pencil box. It was a light blue cardboard box and I had taken the entire width to write “J o b I e”. (I think the “e” was backwards too.)
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So years later, when I read the book of Job, I felt a special connection, not only because I was a teenager when I read it (and I suspect every teenager thinks his/her life is the hardest, meanest, most stressful life ever lived), but also because I had this memory of my name being written “Jobie”. As an adult, after I had my first miscarriage, I again could relate to Job, only this time taking away the quote, “Though he slay me, yet will I hope in him.” (Job 13:15).

Recently, a friend of mine brought up Job. She said that she felt more like his friends than she would like. This year, through the course of our difficulties, I thought about Job again, but I realize my life does not even hold a candle to his. But after my friend’s comment, I got to thinking. It’s actually true that I have acted more like Job’s friends this year than Job. Early in the year, when I broke my leg and we lost our granddaughter, I was inwardly angry. And I spoke very arrogantly to a friend. And later in the summer, I apparently made a remark (or two) that another friend considered condescending.


My father-in-law is an alcoholic and he has been through many cycles of recovery and relapse. Often, during his recovery, he is arrogant and uncompassionate, as if to say, “If I can get my life right, so can everyone else”, and there is no grace in him. I’m guessing that’s pretty much how I have come off to people. I never meant it that way, but I think it’s been interpreted that way.

Nevertheless, that’s definitely NOT a god-like attitude. And if it takes hard times to produce the fruit of compassion in me, then let them come. I would much rather have hard things in my life, if that’s what it takes for me to reflect God’s heart, than to have everything come easy but be arrogant and condescending.

Chemisty

Boiling points. I remember learning that different liquids had different boiling points. It was in junior high. It's one thing to learn it in your head, but to see someone stick their hand in a boiling pan of alcohol--you expect them to pull their hand out and for it to be painful and blistered and red Not so. Alcohol boils at a temperature not too much above body temperature....

But the most vivid demonstration that sticks in my memory is when Mr. Browning, in Chem I, took a gigantic glass flask (like a 10-gallon flask, with sides at least an inch thick) that was full of ice water and made it boil. Impossible you say? Nope. Even the temperature at which water boils is affected by the pressure over it. By creating a vacuum in the flask, Mr. Browning was able to make the ice-cold slush contained inside it BOIL! Boiling slush. Such an unusual sight, it's still in my memory like it was yesterday, and it was over 30 years ago!

We use the same principle in pressure cookers. Just as water boils at a lower temperature under less pressure (which is why you have to cook things longer at higher altitudes, by the way-less atmospheric pressure); it boils at a higher temperature under pressure. That is why we use a pressure cooker for canning starchy vegetable snd meats, so they will "boil" at a higher temperature, a temperature high enough to kill the dangerous bacteria, like botulism, which can withstand normal boiling temperatures.

But an interesting thing happens as a jar of water is boiled in a pressure canner. As the water boils inside the jar at hotter-than-normal boiling temperatures, air is forced out of the jar. As the jar then cools, the lid seals before it has reached room temperature, creating less pressure inside the jar than there is on the outside. That's why when you open the jar, you hear that characteristic "shoop" as air rushes in to equalize the pressure.

The interesting thing is this. because the water inside the jar is under less pressure, it will now "boil" at a lower temperature than water under normal atmospheric pressure.

I think that is why Joy bubbles up through all kinds of circumstances. It may look odd to us to see people joyfully worshiping God on the streets of Haiti, amid hunger and stench and unknown futures. But it's really the same thing as seeing a boy put his hand in a boiling kettle of alcohol or ice-cold slush boiling. They have been "cooked" under pressure, and their boiling points have been lowered. Joy bubbles up through it all.

I "listen" to my teenage friends on Facebook struggling under the pressures of their lives, and I remember being a teenager, and how hard it was; and yet, being an adult is so much harder. But we don't get there overnight--most of us. We are boiled in the pressure cooker of life over and over, hotter and hotter, under more pressure each time, until we get to the point where we bubble at room temperature.

Juxtaposition

I just love the sound of that word. Do you ever come across a word that is just fun to say? In medical transcription, my fun phrase is "popliteal fossa". It's just fun to say. Same with "juxtaposition". But I like the meaning of the word too. I think it pretty much describes my faith.

I have from time to time, tongue-in-cheek, and with all apologies to those suffering from mental illness in earnest, said that God must be schizophrenic, or of two minds. How else could He grieve at the horrors going on the world and at the same rejoice with those who are rejoicing?

How is it that the very God whose "fingerwork" is the galaxies that we see as stars could care to count the hairs on my head? How is it that this God would take the form of man and die on a cross so that the relationship between Him and me could be restored? How can God, who is so big (gigantic, monstrous, enormous, immense, powerful, immeasurable, unfathomable) be concerned about what is so small? How is it that He can rejoice with those who rejoice and mourn with those who mourn, all at the same time?

And how is it that despite my circumstances,the long uphill journey I have laid out before me, I can still be filled with Joy? It's as if no amount of pressure can keep the surface of the deep from bubbling. Thankfulness and joy cannot be contained........you can clothe them will illness and dark circumstances, but they persist.

The Hope that I was looking for last fall isn't related to any circumstances or feelings. My hope is in my redeemer....and He, whose fingerwork is the stars, even cares for me. How can I not find Joy in that?

Juxtaposition....

Eew, gross!!

We have been watching M.A.S.H. lately. We just saw the episode where BJ Hunnicut arrives. The trip from Kempo to M.A.S.H. 4077 inducts him fairly well, as they meet a patrol on the way that has been wounded and needs assistance. BJ's first look at the shredded abdomen of a soldier leaves him heaving in the dirt.

My mom recently had carpal tunnel surgery, and I looked up pictures on Google Images, to get a better idea of what took place during the surgery. Keary came in the room and looking over my shoulder said, "Is that a REAL hand? EEW GROSS!"

My friend, Sue, who had a below-the-knee amputation years ago, sometimes takes her prosthesis off in church, when it is uncomfortable, but she is very careful to cover her stump, especially from the view of children, as the view to people is often shocking.

I feel the same way about my own incisions. Though they are nothing really gross to look at, they are not they way God intended my foot to look, and I always have the reaction, "Eew, gross" when I catch sight of them, and then sadness comes, and then thankfulness that I still have my foot.

But all this converging got me to wondering if that isn't God's immediate reaction to the sin in our lives. I mean, He created us in His image. I'm pretty sure He intended us to be sinless. And so when He looks at us, I wonder if the first reaction in His heart is, "Eew, gross." Followed by sadness. Followed by thankfulness, that we have chosen relationship with Him.

Finding God in a Box of Salt

We have had quite a year of "opportunity for growth" (as my friend calls it). First I broke my leg, then our daughter had a miscarriage, then, before my leg was completely healed, I developed ian infection in my foot and a month later had to have surgery to drain it, then developed sepsis and subsequent renal failure. I was very sick and had to be on daily IV antibiotics for weeks. When I was finally almost better, I fell off a friend's deck and had bruised ribs for a few weeks. As that was healing, my husband had a stroke, landing him in the hospital for a week. A week later he ended up in the hospital again.

The bottom line is we are running at about half power income-wise right now, have medical bills that exceed our mortgage, and are in a place of having to completely trust God for our provisions and our health and our future. Frankly, this is where we all are anyway, whether we realize it or not; it's just absolutely clear in our lives at this moment.

Five years ago this season, we lost my mother-in-law to a stroke. Nevertheless, she is still here with us in our hearts and memories. She used to say, "Out of salt, out of money" and my husband still says that. This past month, my son had used up the last of our salt doing various science experiments, and the almost empty container sitting on the counter calls out to me, mocking me, "Out of salf, out of money."

Today, a friend brought a care basket from some coworkers (most of whom we don't even know). As I was putting various items away in my pantry, I came upon a box of salt. And this precious box of salt spoke over and above the empty one sitting on the counter. "I see your need. Your provision comes from Me, and I will take care of you."

While I was pondering this, my son skipped into the kitchen, noticed the salt on the stove and said, "Mommy, how did they know we needed salt?" God knows.

As Deep Cries out to Deep

I have experienced some dark times this year. I'm not sure which was the darkest part; the days after my surgery when I was so sick I thought I was going to die, or the weeks after I got home when I was so sick but didn't know if I would ever get well or just live in misery forever.

First off, let me say, I would be happy to die. I know that a much better place awaits me. But all I could picture, as I lay there pleading with God for my life, was my 8-year-old son, my husband, and my grown daughter. My daughter would get through, but she has already suffered so much this year with the loss of her daughter. My husband would make it, I think; but it would be only by God's mercy and grace. It takes both of us to raise our son, and both of us to keep us afloat financially. I could not imagine how he would deal with the stress, physically, financially, emotionally, psychologically. God would provide, but still, if I could spare him that road... And most of all, my son, who has so much growing up to do, and who really needs the balance of both his mom and dad. I called my friend Laurie in tears, begging her, "If I die, please make sure my boys are taken care of." And then things got better. Laurie came the next day and we had a time of worship and the whole atmosphere of the room changed...and things began to improve, though I was still quite sick. God put me on Gordon's heart that night and he prayed for me. Friends from church came the next day and prayed for me. Laurie and Dan came the next day and prayed for me, and that night was the last of my fevers and chills and sweats and vomiting. People kept coming and praying, and calling, and praying for me.

After I came home, nausea and fatigue and diarrhea still plagued me. On top of that, I had people coming to my house, poking me and prodding me and just invading my life. And there were countless doctors demanding I come see them. And Gary was stressed out, trying to work and take care of me. He couldn't fit in driving me to town for all those doctor visits. And I was too exhausted to go. Did I mention the overwhelming nausea? Forcing myself to eat, but having no appetite. Feeling like I wanted to heave my innards out all the time....On top of that, no one could tell me why I felt so miserable. Perhaps the kidney failure? That was the best guess. And no one could tell me if my kidney function would ever return to normal--or even improve. I was faced with the thought of living the rest of my life sick beyond bear.

The worst part was that I had no hope. If someone could just tell me, "Yes, you will get better." Then I think I could have tolerated it better But I had no hope. In the hospital, I could draw myself to worship God. I could say to Him, "Not my will, but thine." with regard to whether I lived or died. But this nausea. This unknowing. This hill that had no end. These waves that just kept coming and coming, with no end in sight. At least death would have been an end. I was struggling so with making peace with God about living the rest of my life in nausea.

I had to get to church, but I could not drive our manual because I could not push in the clutch with my left (wounded) foot. Gary got sick, very sick, with a GI bug and could not take me the second Sunday after I got home (the first Sunday, I was just too weak to go still). So I asked a friend to give me a ride the next Wednesday, but when she didn't show up, I knew that it was the enemy keeping me from where I really NEEDED to be. I needed to physically submit myself to God and go, to say PHYSICALLY, "I will still worship You; I will still acknowledge Your sovereignty, even though I don't understand or know what You have planned, or have faith or hope in my future." And so I climbed into my truck (after Gary moved the car for me) and drove myself to that Wednesday service.

And people were glad to see me. And they prayed for me. One woman told me she had faith for me where I did not, that I would get better, completely better. Another man told me that they were not letting me go. I needed to hear all that. I DESPERATELY needed to hear all that. By the next week, the nausea was gone and I had improved immensely--to the point that I could have hope for myself that I would continue to improve.

Forgive my personalization of Psalm 42:6-7, etc.

My soul is downcast within me; therefore I will remember you from the land of RiverBend; from the heights of kidney failure--from immense nausea. Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me.

And in the future, remembering how He has brought me through, I will say, "Why are you downcast, O my soul? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God."