April 2, 2019

Funny. When all you want to do is sit in a corner and cry (and perhaps suck your thumb), this pops up. When Christ faced death and suffering, He loved and served those God gave Him. It takes courage to do that. But Jesus is on the move, and so I am called to take up my towel and follow.

April 2, 2015

John 13:3 Jesus, knowing that the Father had given all things into his hands, and that he had come from God and was going back to God, 4 rose from supper. He laid aside his outer garments, and taking a towel, tied it around his waist. 5 Then he poured water into a basin and began to wash the disciples’ feet and to wipe them with the towel that was wrapped around him.

April 3, 2019

Joy in the Trenches

My grief is an open wound, jagged edges throbbing, torn flesh refusing to rejoin and heal. I walk into the house and expect to see Kiki cooking dinner. I wake up in the morning and think I’ll see her already on the couch doing reads for her job. I make supper and turn to ask her how many carbs and how much insulin should her son take. Each time, it’s like a new tear in my already bleeding heart.

BUT. I love the fact that as a Christian, our lives are transformed by that eternal “BUT.” But there are two sides to reality. From my point of view, I just got thrown in the fiery furnace of loss. From God’s, I am safe in His arms and His plan is being unfurled like a sail, carrying me and all His children Home. So despite the flames, I praise God. Despite the grief, I will rejoice in Him. Despite uncertainty, I stand firm in God’s sovereignty, His provision, and His love. Isn’t it a wonder that we have been saved by so great a salvation? God has invited us into His heart and work and that transforms not only ourselves, but our tasks, our loves, and our pain, into something glorious.

I sit on the edge of this day, grief and joy mingling like the fragrance of a magnificent bouquet. I can’t wait to see what the Lord has in store. My heart’s desire is to see His face. I’m jealous that Kiki already does. Heaven is lovely, bright, and deep, but I have promises to keep and miles to go before I sleep. Sorry, Robert Frost!!! I better get moving.

Habakkuk 3: 17 Though the fig tree should not blossom, nor fruit be on the vines, the produce of the olive fail and the fields yield no food, the flock be cut off from the fold and there be no herd in the stalls, 18 yet I will rejoice in the Lord; I will take joy in the God of my salvation.

19 God, the Lord, is my strength; he makes my feet like the deer’s; he makes me tread on my high places. To the choirmaster: with stringed* instruments.