The One who Sees Our Tears

Yesterday Roman decided to put up a fuss about something he didn’t want to do and I said to him, “No crying. Suck it up!” My inquisitive little three year old replied, “Mom, what is ‘suck it up’?”  Yea, I guess it’s what we all do a lot of the time when we don’t have time for our real emotions to surface.  And sometimes that is a good thing. I mean really, if we all went around whining like preschoolers, what a miserable life this would be. Often things happen that I don’t like, and I just have to “suck it up” and accept them.

But what happens when this becomes our spiritual MO. Especially when we are disappointed with God. After all, we’re not really supposed to be disappointed with God if we actually trust Him, right? Often when I experience emotions of confusion and sadness about something God has allowed to come into my life, I sternly remind myself that God is sovereign, that He is good, and does only good. These are truths I live by. And it is good to remind myself of them. But when I do not allow myself the freedom to be “real” with God, when I am always “sucking it up”, do I become a faux-Christian, living a life of pseudo joy?
Tonight in our Bible study time, the boys and I read one of my favorite Old Testament stories. Hezekiah, whom the Bible calls Judah’s most faithful king, became deathly ill and God sent Isaiah to tell him that he was going to die. I find Hezekiah’s response riveting. ” WHen Hezekiah heard this, he turned his face to the wall and prayed to the Lord. ‘Remember O Lord, how I have always been faithful to you and have served you single-mindedly always doing what pleases you.’ Then he broke down and wept bitterly.” (2 Kings 20:2-3) The Bible records for us in 2 Kings 18, that Hezekiah did indeed follow God whole- heartedly his whole life. Hezekiah wasn’t boasting when he reminded the Lord of his faithful life. I am deeply moved by this statement of faith, challenged to assess my own pursuit of God, questioning my own single-mindedness in that pursuit. But I am also moved by Hezehiah’s grief. He wept bitterly! He didn’t ask God to spare his life.  Although clearly that is what he wanted. He just expressed deep sadness and even disappointment to God. He didn’t “suck it up.”

The reason this is one of my favorite stories, is because of verse 4. Before Isaiah had even left the courtyard of the palace, God was sending him back with a new message. “Go back to Hezekiah…tell him, ‘This is what the Lord the God of your ancestor David says: I have heard your prayers and seen your tears. I will heal you…'” God was moved with compassion and added 15 years to Hezekiah’s life in response to his anguished cries. This story reminds me that I can be real with God. I don’t have to “suck it up”, I can weep before God. He is the one who sees my tears! And he responds with compassion and mercy.

A Reminder

What a precious visit Joel and I had on Saturday. Four and a half hours of uninterrupted conversation; how could it go by so fast, never seem like enough? But before I knew it our time was over, and I was saying goodby and trying not to look too sad as I waved and was ushered out of the visiting area. Why does it get harder and harder to say good by?

I went from rejoicing on Saturday, to doldrums on Sunday….sick myself and caring for a sick child. It was a long, trying day. One of those days that reminds me of how weak I am. A day of frustration in my own limitations. And a reminder of my own tendency to rely on self. How quickly I fail when I find my strength in me. A little physical limitation is all it takes to show me  my frailty, that without Christ I am nothing.

So today, feeling a little better, though uncharacteristically tired, I am pondering rest. I am contemplating the lesson of weakness.  I hate being sick…I hate feeling weak. But my physical condition awakens my heart to my spiritual condition. It speaks to me of the weakness that requires rest–His Rest.

 

 

Celebrating

Tomorrow Joel and I will celebrate our 18th anniversary. I guess I am really getting old…In one more year I will have spent half of my life married to my sweetheart. I will be traveling up to Jesup tomorrow so we can spend the day together. I am so thankful to have family who will keep the kids for me, so Joel and I can log some one-on-one time. I can’t wait.

This milestone, understandably calls to mind so many other years, so many memories. Like the day we started dating,  and the moment we both said “I do.” Or our first anniversary when we were no longer “newly weds” and we forgot to eat our frozen cake top! (I wonder how many people actually remember to eat it!) And our tenth anniversary when I thought he had forgotten and at bedtime he gave me the emerald ring I’d been ogling at the mall for months, and, of course, two years ago when we spent our first anniversary of his incarceration apart.

I remember clearly in the first few months of our present reality when people would ask me how I was doing and I didn’t really know how to answer. I was in pain, raw, unadulterated, terrific pain.  No matter how much I carried on with the duties of every day life, no matter how “together” I appeared, I was living in the constant agony of unrelenting pain. And I really did not know what to say when it was clear that they expected me to say the pain was getting better. I remember saying to my sister that in some ways it only got worse, because the longer we were apart the more of eachother’s lives we were missing. And I wondered how much worse I could take. So no matter how bravely I answered, no matter how much I wanted to allay the concerns of these inquirers, in my heart I wondered if the agony I felt would ever relent.

Now as we face another anniversary, I’m given the chance to look back and see all the ways that God has been healing us, even though our circumstances haven’t changed logistically. The despair on that first anniversary sought to swallow me up. The waves of panic at the realization I was just at the beginning of this long journey nearly engulfed me. But God has a way of rescuing us, redeeming us, even when we do not fully comprehend it.  God’s work in our life has been a catharsis so that even though the pain is still real, and the loss is still catastrophic, the agony no longer threatens to consume.

By His grace, God is making us more than conquerors, and in the process He is mitigating our pain. The pursuit for succor has ended. The pursuit of God engulfs, and we celebrate!

Everything is Meaningless…

What do Job and Ecclesiastes have in common? Not much…or so it seems. But really the more I ponder, the more I realize they both hit on the basic tenant of our existence. What is the meaning of life? Why are we here and what does God have to do with anything? Don’t worry–I’m not going to go all existential on you or anything. But these are questions that plagued the ancients and still daunt us today. Certainly a search for the answers to these questions is a worthy quest.

In Job we find a man railing against God because of the grief and pain that suddenly fill his life. He argues against the religious rhetoric of his day. He firmly asserts his innocence. And he demands that God give him an explanation. What is he alive for? Why is he even on the earth if all there is is suffering?

In Ecclesiastes, the Teacher, whom many assume is Solomon rails against the meaningless nature of even a productive life. He experiences wealth, opulence, and success. Yet he is asking the same questions. What is he alive for? What is the point of this existence, if all there is to do is eat and drink and revel?

What I find so interesting is that on either end of the spectrum the same question arises. Abject suffering and pain forces to the surface a desperate cry for meaning and plea for something greater than pain to hold on to. Likewise, prosperity, wealth, and success drive us to laments of boredom. We question, “Is this all there is?” searching desperately for something greater than success to hold onto.

Perhaps this search meaning in both prosperity and disaster can be explained by Ecc. 3:11 “…He has also set eternity in the hearts of man, yet they cannot fathom what He has done from beginning to end.” Our hearts beat for eternity. Yet, in our finite minds we cannot fathom His ways. So we were created for eternal purpose, yet live in this temporal world. We were created to find total satisfaction in God.  Yet we live, seeking satisfaction in all other sensory input and blame God when nothing fills the void.

The struggle in my life boils down to this…am I on a quest to find meaning in my life, or a quest to know God. When I seek for meaning, even from a spiritual perspective, I will come up with the same answer as the Teacher. “Everything is meaningless.” But when I seek God, meaning ceases to matter. Only He matters.

 

Love Truths Others

I have been thinking lately about truthfulness in relationships. How well do you have to know a person to be honest with them about the tough issues of life? Is being “politically correct” really a way of showing kindness and respect? What does the fruit of kindness look like? And how much onus is on me for the speaking of truth? In other words, is it OK to leave hard things unsaid?

I have been listening to a series of messages on Pete Briscoe on 1 Corinthians 13. He has pointed out that in the Greek the descriptions of love found in vv. 4-8 are formed using verbs. So in our English versions it might say, “Love is patient.” In the Greek, that would literally be, “Love patients others.” “Love is kind” would be “Love kinds others.”

In verse six, “Love delights not in evil, but rejoices in the truth.” So when it is loving to “truth” someone? This is a personal struggle for me. When I see someone suffering the consequences of their own wrongheaded thinking, my heart goes out to them. Is it my responsibility to shed truth on their thinking? And if so, how do I do that kindly? Our culture has taught us, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” But I am beginning to see the lie in this statement. Sometimes, the not-nice things should be said, to prevent the not-nice things from happening.

Jesus was a master at this. Throughout the gospels Jesus spoke the hard truths, often in very “unpolitically correct” ways. You can feel the awkward silence filling the void between Him and the crowd after such comments as, “Why do you entertain evil thoughts in your hearts?” (Matt. 9:4b) or, “A wicked and adulterous generation asks for a sign.” (Matt. 12: 39)

From my own experience, I see two possible causes for our reticence to “truth” others. One:   peace at any cost, even the sacrifice of truth, is of utmost value. Two: the easy way is the best way. But neither of these are truth! The truth is peace at any cost is the tyranny of sin. And often the hard way is the better way.

A Lament

Today as we said good by to Joel before leaving the prison Roman looked at him and said, “Dad, you’re trapped in here!” As if full understanding had just dawned. “Yea, I’m trapped.” Joel agreed. “Why would they keep you? I’m going to ask those men to let you go!” Roman cried. As we walked past the guards station on our way out Roman asked them, “Why are you keeping my dad here. Can’t you let him go home with us? Please?” When nobody answered he simply repeated himself.  It was heartbreaking to see our precious three year old feel so helpless, understanding so little and so much all at the same time.

Yes, the consequences for our boys is one of the most painful parts of this journey. And today, I nearly lost it, listening to Roman’s desperate pleas. As we walked through the parking lot to our car, Roman started talking about when Joel was at home, as if he actually remembers daddy being at home. But he was only one when Joel was sentenced, so it’s hart to imagine that he could remember anything. Life with Joel living at home, will be a new, exciting experience for him. Oh, how I long for that day. And how I ache for all the lost time.

Many of the Psalms are written as laments, or angry diatribes to an apparently silent God. I think God chose for the Psalms to be that way to show us that our sorrow matters to God. The grief I feel for the loss my kids are experiencing, is precious to God.  My own grief at all I have lost is precious to God. And He is OK with my painful laments, my gut wrenching questions, my lonely pleas. But in the end I come to the same conclusion that many of the Psalms come to…My hope is in the Lord. My ultimate comfort is that God is good and does only good. I can cry, I can rail against my present “normal”, I can beg God for reprieve. And after all that, “…yet will I rejoice in the Lord. I will joy in the God of my salvation…” I have nowhere else to go in my heartbreak.

 

Panic Attacks

So today I lost my computer! How does a person go and lose a computer? That’s what I want to know. For me, that’s about as bad as losing the head off my shoulders. (Which if I remember correctly my mom used to comment might actually happen if it weren’t attached.) So yea, I have battled with organization my whole life. But over all I’m a pretty responsible person and I don’t leave expensive items that I can’t replace just lying around! And beyond that I work on my computer so much of the time, it’s hard to figure when I would have time to lose it. But today, I lost my computer.

I was putting the kids in bed around 9:30 when I realized it wasn’t in its spot at the end of my bed, beside my favorite quiet time, blogging, studying, and everything-in-between chair. (I don’t have an office or a desk, or a bookshelf big enough for my school books, so it’s all just in one corner by said chair in an area my son likes to call my shelf-less library.) Anyways, my first thought was that I had left the computer in the car when I had gotten home from work. I am off early on Fridays, but I had ended up getting home later than usual after a stop at the hospital to visit my ailing gramps, who was admitted yesterday. But that’s a story for another day. Anyways, when I got home, I carried my school books in, but I just had no memory of what I had done with my computer. So the boys and I searched the house over, and the car over, and by that time, I was starting to panic. In desperation I asked the boys to pray for me to find it, which of course, I had been doing in little spurts along with gutteral moans the whole time.

The only place left to look was the school. (Thank God, I have a way to get in!) Racking my brain wasn’t helping. It may as well have rolled off somewhere along with way for all the good it was doing me. So off I ran to the school to search for it, calling my prayer-warrior mom on the way to entreat her prayers. My dad, who is the best kind of person to have around in a panic, offered to come right over and go down to the school with me. Gratefully, I met up with him, and he drove me to the school, while I retraced my every step out loud, hoping something about where I had put my computer would come back to me. But alas, about the time I was ready to give in to real waves of panic, and maybe just out and out bawl, because a bucket of tears always helps in a situation like this,  my dad started telling me about how everything, even death, is used by a loving God to draw us to Himself. Now, of course, I know this. I blog about this. And I have seen it be true in much bigger areas than a missing computer. It’s not new, but it’s necessary, because I forget so easily.  Dad isn’t the kind to rebuke, so it didn’t feel like a sermon. Rather, it was a holy reminder.

The happy ending to this story is that just inside the office at the school, my computer was sitting, safe and sound in it’s little black case, waiting for me to come and get it. I don’t remember setting it down there, and I don’t remember leaving without it. (I think my mind might still be missing.) But as we drove away I thought about how easy it is to lose sight of God’s goodness, how quickly we develop tunnel vision. I am so glad God allowed me to find my computer tonight. Would He still be working for my good even if the computer hadn’t turned up? Of course! But that is easy for me to say…sitting here in my blogging chair, typing on my once-lost, now-found computer! Grateful to know He is always good….and does only good.

Groaning

The other day Joel sounded a little down when I answered his call. Briefly he explained how he had been moved for the second time in two weeks to a different cube. The “cubes” or rooms are about 9 ft square and house two to three inmates in double or triple bunk beds. The walls of these rooms only go up about 7 feet, so a couple feet of open space remain between the walls and the ceilings. If a person is on a triple bunk bed, he is above the level of the wall to his “room”.  Inmates can be moved from cube to cube for any number of reasons, not to mention the random whims of whoever is in charge.  The three man cubes are understandably more cramped, so a two man cube is a coveted luxury. Joel seems to have been moved quite a bit through out the course of the last couple years. You might think it something he would get used to. Each time, though means new sleeping arrangements and cell mates. After his last move to a three man, from a two man cube, he was relieved to be assigned to a room with one of his buddies and even though it was a three man, he was given the bottom bunk, so felt pretty comfortable. Unfortunately, that move didn’t last. Thus, the disappointment when he called the other day. Now he is on the top bunk of a three man cube–just inches away from the inmate on the top bunk across the wall,and he has two guys as roommates that he doesn’t really know. To make this move even more uncomfortable, his bed is right under a vent that blows cold air all night long. Since no inmate is allowed to have more than one blanket, he has resorted to sleeping in warmer clothes, including a ski cap!  Difficult circumstances, for sure. But I was relieved that Joel did not seem angry or frustrated, just a little sad.

As I was commiserating with him, I started to say, “I’ll pray that you get moved out of that cube soon too.” But then I stopped, and said, “Oh, honey, I used to think I knew how to pray about things like this, but now I don’t even know how to pray. So I will just pray that God will do what is best.” We were both reminded of the passage in Romans that assures us of the Holy Spirit’s participation in our prayer life. Romans 8:26 “And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.”  This is another area where God is making clear to me my own impotence and His mighty power. His Holy Spirit, is groaning for Joel right now! He is, according to verse 27, pleading with the Father, “in harmony with God’s own will.” What a comfort. I can groan, and the Spirit groans, and God listens!

Why Are We Here?

I have often asked myself this very question in the past couple years. Why am I still here on earth? Why doesn’t God simply rapture us the minute we become saved? The obvious answer to this question is so we will share His gospel with others, that through us many might be saved. I get that. But it is not the all-satisfying answer I am looking for. Jesus said that God could make the rocks cry out in testimony of Him.  In the Old Testament God demonstrated His power to accomplish His purpose, using both a donkey and a great fish. So the simple answer to our continued existence on the earth, doesn’t totally satisfy the dilemma.

So what are we here for? The Westminster Catechism asserts that the chief end of man is to “glorify God and enjoy Him forever.” And that is exactly what we will do, uninterrupted in His presence for eternity.  So if we have that to look forward to, what are we still here for?

I have become increasingly sure that there is a certain aspect of our relationship with God that can only be accomplished here. I am convinced that our time here is an essential step to glorifying God and enjoying Him forever. Being convinced of that, I am passionate about pursuing whatever aspects of knowing God, might only be available in this life. And as I think of that in a practical sense, I begin to name the issues on earth that we experience that will no be a part of eternity: suffering being chief among those issues. But the simple answer that we are here to suffer, is ludicrous.

Rather, I think, we can begin to understand why we are here if we reconcile all three of the answers suggested. We are here, because on this earth, we have the unique opportunity to know and glorify God in the midst of suffering, and thereby testify to the goodness of God among the heathen of the world, turning many to Him. Now, that is an opportunity we ONLY have this side of heaven. That is an aspect of knowing God which is unique to our earthly existence.

For Such a Time…

In history class this week, we have been studying the Persian Empire. It is fascinating to see how some of the Biblical stories fit into the historical timeline. Each story has its pinnacle moment in which God’s people offer astounding testimony to His goodness even in the midst of their suffering.

The Judean people were conquered by the Babylonians who were conquered by the Persians. So the Jews were under first Babylonian rule and later Persian rule. They were exiled in a land not their own. But God was preserving for Himself a renment of the faithful. And their stories, fill me with awe, inspiring me to believe God even in my time of exile.

Consider these rousing testimonies:

Daniel 3: 16-28 “Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego replied: ‘O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God whom we serve is able to deliver us. He will rescue us from your power, Your Majesty. But even if he doesn’t we want to make it clear to you, Your Majesty, that we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up.”

Daniel 6:10: “But when Daniel learned that the law had been signed, he went home and knelt down as usual in his upstairs room, with its windows open toward Jerusalem. he prayed three times a day, just as he had always done, giving thanks to his God.”

Esther 4: 13-14 “The Mordecai sent this reply to Esther: ‘Don’t think for a moment that because you’re in the palace you will escape when all other Jews are killed. If you keep quiet at a time like this, deliverance and relief will come from some other place, but you and your relatives will die. Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?”

God had each of these individual right where he wanted them to display His glory among the pagans. They were faced with agonizing risk. Obedience to God was tremendously costly for Shadrach, Meshach, Abednego, Daniel, and Esther. But Mordecai’s famous challenge to Esther, still rings true for each of us today. It is sobering to think that I could refuse to participate in God’s global plan, and thereby miss out. Mordecai was certain that God would raise up a rescuer for His people. If Esther had refused, she would have forfeited the joy of being a part of God’s powerful redemption plan.

When I am faced with the agony of exile, these Old Testament saints remind me of God’s precious hand in my circumstances, His ultimate plan, and His sustaining power.