Where the Grass is Greener

We sat across from each other over coffee and crumpled, crumby napkins, catching up.

She told me how long her evenings had been with her hubby working extra hours.

I tried to feel compassionate but was mostly wondering how she could complain...after all she has three solid days of solitude every week. What I wouldn't give for that!  I'm certain if I had 21 blessed hours of peace and quiet I could leap over tall buildings in a single bound.

I felt horrible immediately.  If we had to pick challenges, I'd keep mine over hers any day.  Yet there I was peering over the fence at her presumably greener grass.  Because we have that kind of friendship, I confessed.  She 'fessed up too.  Apparently she'd been thinking my grass was looking pretty sweet.

The seductive allure of that emerald green grass on the other side of the fence.

I heard a message last summer about longing for your neighbor's greener grass, and how our own would be greener if we'd take care of the weeds.  My head assented to the sound logic, but my heart was heavy.  I know better than anyone else just how weedy my lawn is and how hard I've worked to eradicate all the nasties.  How many times I've been certain that I finally annihilated one only to find it as hardy as a wretched dandelion.  Exhausting.

There is, however, a place where the grass is green beyond my wildest dreams.

This green meadow is not of my own making.  It's a place discovered while following the Shepherd.

When I follow Him I have everything I need.  He lets me rest in those green meadows.  There He renews my strength.

He leads me in the paths of righteousness.  He wants to.  He's a shepherd.  He leads me into righteousness--it's not the result of my own efforts.

The key to greener pastures is not in seeking weeds, but in seeking the Shepherd.  If you see a weed, by all means, ask the Shepherd how He wants you to deal with it.  Otherwise, let's keep our eyes on the Shepherd and our ears tuned to His voice and follow.  If you feel lost, find His voice in a favorite Psalm or begin to worship, giving thanks in all things.  This will lead to pastures so green you'll never long for the turf on the other side of the fence again.

The Lord is my shepherd;

I have all that I need.

He lets me rest in green meadows;

he leads me beside peaceful streams.

He guides me along right path,

bringing honour to his name.

My cup overflows with blessings.

Psalm 23:1-3, 5b NLT

Dance on Your Disappointment

Monday we stood on the dusty roadside of a mountain pass peering under the open hood of our van.  Acrid, too hot scent stinging our noses.  An irregular knocking filling our ears.  Only one set of eyes knew what they were seeing, but five hearts were sinking.  We were supposed to be off on an adventure, having a change, a rest.  The only wise choice was to turn around and try to get back to the nearest town.

Naturally, there were tears and questions.  The little one leaned against me with a small sob and said, "We've had a lot of disappointments lately, Mommy."  I knew she was thinking of the Big Disappointment which was now about six weeks past but still fresh in our hearts.  Then she asked how I could bear this one.  The simple answer was, "I know He loves me."  Deeper than that, I had an epiphany right there in that melting mountain pass--I'd claimed Hope Territory in the time of the Big Disappointment.

We'd gone more than three months with mom, the heart and soul of the family, out of commission.  Quiet Christmas sans turkey dinner, limping along through the basics, postponing holidays, and continually praying for healing.  Into the fourth month and there was a cancellation, they would take me in for surgery.  Hope rose.  Only to be crushed after hours of waiting.  I'd have to be bumped to another day...a month away.  We cried together, feeling quite like we'd been taken out at the knees.  The long struggle had worn on us all.

I'd been sixteen hours without food, water or medication while waiting for my surgery.  With all those needs finally met, I slipped into the blessed relief of sleep while my family cuddled together with a movie.  A few hours later I returned to cognizance with one urgent thought, "You need to dance on this disappointment."

What a silly idea!  And not because, as my curly-haired family frequently tells me, I dance like a white woman.   Physically, I was no condition to dance and who dances anyway when they haven't got a clue how they're going to get through another month of this?  But I know that Voice and I've learned it's worth listening to...

So I found the song that said what I needed to say and I played it.  On repeat.  Loud enough to saturate my senses. And I sang and sang and twirled around as best I could until hope rose.  I sang and twirled some more until I was bursting with hope.  When I finally flopped down breathless I still didn't know how...how anything, but I knew that I knew that I knew that God loves me and that nothing is impossible for Him.  I knew that as long as I could dance on my disappointment, thereby declaring my confidence in His goodness, He would make something glorious out of this whole big mess.  For me and for my family.

Navigating disappointment isn't easy.  It's important to be honest and process our sadness.  But we can't live there.  Disappointment pulls with a tremendous gravitational force, trying to hold us down.  Self pity encourages us to put down roots in that place.  Disappointment is a place to go through.

We can, in fact, be "perplexed, but not in despair...cast down, but not destroyed."  Whether your setback is great or small, I encourage you to dance.  Dance on your disappointment. 

Dance.  As though your life depends on it.

What joy for those whose strength comes from the Lord,

who have set their minds on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem

When they walk through the Valley of Weeping

it will become a place of refreshing springs.

The autumn rains will clothe it with blessings.

They will continue to grow stronger, 

and each of them will appear before God in Jerusalem.

Psalm 84:5-7

2 Corinthians 4:8-10

The Basis of Hope

She told me.  Right to my face.  She suspected that cheerful, hopeful people couldn't possibly be very intelligent.  Really smart people comprehend the full ramifications of the dire straight that is the state of our universe.  And it's impossible to be very hopeful or cheerful when you're so fully informed.

I laughed.  I really did.  I couldn't help it!  Maybe I didn't try, I don't know.  It's just that this joy is irrepressible.  Which probably confirmed her point.

It really is foolishness to believe that the impossible could be possible.  To have hope when there's no hope of our circumstances changing.  When the prognosis is bleak.  When the relationship has been fragmented for years.  When we've failed repeatedly to change.

It's utterly foolish to believe that a crushed lifeless body, devoid of heartbeat for three days, could live again.  Yet it happened.  It's been historically validated and it's power is still evident in our lives.  Even death is impotent in the presence of the Spirit of the Almighty God!

We have this hope that is an anchor for our souls...

Oh, this hope we have!  It's so much more than a lackadaisical, Pollyannic good cheer.  Much more substantial than the vapor that is the power of my own positive thinking which burns away quickly in the heat of the marathon.  This hope we have is based in the resurrection.  Every promise we've been given is backed by the same power that raised Jesus from the dead!  This same power lives inside you who are called by His name.

Hebrews 6:19

The Bride Price

What on earth does Good Friday have to do with a wedding feast?  How on earth could a bloody, gruesome death be connected to the finest of all occasions?

Yet, it is.

I can't quite bear to look straight at all that it meant for Christ, the perfect sinless Son of God, to be pierced and mangled and cast into hell on my behalf.  Him, tormented in hell, instead of me.  A glimpse is all it takes to send me to my knees...it's hard to breathe when I think of what He's spared me.

How much more the crushing despair of the disciples?  That ragtag lot who'd abandoned everything and placed their hope in this Messiah.  They saw Him with their own eyes.  Crushed and lifeless.  Their sky turned black. They felt the earth heave beneath their feet.  Terror and grief.  Utter hopelessness.

We have the privilege of knowing what those grieving disciples couldn't even imagine.  It might be Friday, but Sunday is coming.  We know the rest of the story...there's a resurrection.

Not only is there a resurrection, but we're invited to a feast that trumps all feasts, not just as honored guests, but as the Bride herself!

To we who have fallen in repentant grief at the foot of the cross, the risen Savior has come and lifted our faces to meet His eyes. His Spirit has called us to come...to be prepared for a Wedding Feast.  This unfathomable groom doesn't just call us to the feast, but also provides the dowry and makes us His Bride.

Good Friday is the invitation to the wedding. The invitation is open to everyone.  Respond and receive the gift of freedom from the deadly cost of your sin.  He paid the price willingly, even eagerly, so great is His longing for you.

"Come!" say the Spirit and the Bride.

Whoever hears, echo, "Come!"

Is anyone thirsty?  Come!

All who will, come and drink,

Drink freely of the Water of Life!

Revelation 22:17

Do Ya Dare?

Hope is risky business.

That sense of eager expectation.  Anticipation.

It involves vulnerability.

Only those who hope can be disappointed.

Through all these months of medical ups and downs this purveyor of hope has been challenged.  One disappointment and delay after another.  There have been times when it felt like too much work, too much risk, too much potential pain...to dare hope again.

Cynicism is such excellent armour against disappointment.  Funny and witty!  Sophisticated, even.  But in the alone times it's a soul desert devoid of real joy.

Between the proverbial rock and the hard place.  To live without hope is to suffocate, but to hope again might be...will be, at times...costly.

There really is nothing new under the sun and 3,500 years ago there was a group of people who had endured slavery for many years, enough generations to have hope bred right out of them.  Along came Moses who told them that God says he's going to set you free!  Yeah, right.  They refused to listen.  "They had become too discouraged by the brutality of their slavery."  Who can blame them?

The good news?  The state of their emotions didn't change the nature of the One who promised or the power of the promise.

Actually, things got worse before they got better for those ancient people.  It's often that way.  Still the power of the promise was not lessened.  Its fulfillment only nearer.

The only difference between those who dared to hope and those who didn't was the joy they had in the waiting.

Selah.  Pause and think on that.

Two weeks post surgery and I'm definitely feeling better. Dare I hope?  I don't have the pathology report yet.  What if...?

What if, indeed.  I have a Papa who knows the contents of that report before it is even written.  Not one iota of it will be a surprise to Him.  And He is faithful.  He will never leave me or forsake me.  He delights in every detail of my life.  His plans for me are good.

Pondering all of that goodness fuels hope.

Oh! May the God of green hope fill you up with joy, 

fill you up with peace, 

so that your believing lives, 

filled with the life-giving energy of the Holy Spirit, 

will brim over with hope!

Romans 15:13 MSG

Perfect Weakness

"My grace is sufficient...my strength is made perfect in weakness."

I feel like I've known these words my whole life.  In fact, I think my mother may have muttered them a lot.  Moms need a lot of grace.

They're beautiful words.  Poetic.

Yesterday, as I laid on a hospital bed for hours, these words ran insistently through my heart, on repeat.   I was hungry for understanding.  Needed that strength.

Weakness.  It's not something I like.  It might even be something I despise in myself.  Okay, it is.

Energy!  Competence!  Efficiency!  Helpful!  Those are my kind of words.

And I am all too aware of their absence in my life.  Recent weakness has been devoid of any loveliness, much less perfection.  It's humbling me.  It's costing others.

Seeking and hungering for more, I found what I needed.  Not in the morphine (though it was really lovely), but in the Greek dictionary on my smart phone.  The deeper layers of meaning in the beautiful words.

These words that were from the heart of God to Paul regarding physical weakness:

My grace...

...the merciful kindness by which God keeps, strengthens, increases faith, knowledge and affection...

...is sufficient for thee.

...to be strong, to be enough, to defend and ward off, as though raising a barrier.

For my strength...

...the inherent power of God which resides in him by virtue of his nature, a miraculous power...

...is made perfect...

...to carry though completely, to add what is yet wanting in order to render a thing full...

...in weakness.

...want of strength of the body (feebleness of health or sickness) 

or of the soul (want of strength and required capacity).

In other words,

"Michelle (add your name), 

I--your Heavenly Papa--

 gladly extend my merciful kindness to strengthen your faith 

and your knowledge of My affection for you.  

All that is in my nature I extend to you 

to carry you through completely.  

All that is in Me I extend to you

 to fill up what is lacking 

in the strength of your body 

and the capacity of your soul."

It really is enough.

It's for you too...whether its health in your body, mind, relationships...wherever the need.  He will add to what is yet wanting in order to render a thing full.

It's not you.  It's Him.  He will carry you through completely and make up all that you lack.

2 Corinthians 12:9

An Invitation to Trust

It seems like it was ages ago, but perhaps it was only three months...

I was sitting, endless hours, in the waiting room. Keeping anxieties at bay with an ebook, but my reader died. Amusing myself listening to the darling nonagenarian blurting out commentary on the current state of affairs...but her name had been called.  Along with almost everyone else. Wondering if they forgot me? If the pain in my bottom might soon be greater than the one on the inside? Shushing all the what ifs. Grasping at gratitude.

A young, very young, woman came in with four little stair-step children, all preschoolers I would guess, the youngest still in a carrier. They quietly followed her through the registration process in wide-eyed silence. In a little row, they filed along and sat down across from me. Six big eyes stared at me. Six little legs swung. Six little hands folded in three little laps. 

This is usually when I begin to bemoan the fact that my children seem to be completely devoid of whatever gene is required for such calm and orderly behaviour...

Just then a large and odd looking bath chair contraption rattled by.  Six wondering eyes followed and then turned to mamma.  She smiled.

A nursed wheeled a severely handicapped woman by and legs stopped swinging.  Once out of sight all eyes turned to mamma.  She smiled.  Legs resumed swinging and eyes watched.

An eerie cry echoed down the hall.  Eyes widened and turned to mamma.  She smiled...extra reassuringly.  Shoulders relaxed and legs swung again.

Babies cried. 

Nurses called out. 

Alarms rang.  

Six little eyes sought mamma's and she smiled.

It was enough.  For now.  Maybe answers would come later.  

My turn finally came.  Kind nurses and gentle doctors did all they could but they couldn't budge the system.  Anxiety rose.  Uncertainty and pain are a nasty combination.

Then I remembered.  

Seek His eyes. 

He smiled reassuringly and invited me to trust.

My shoulders relaxed.  

Months have passed.  Waiting has wearied.  Uncertainty has vexed.  Friends have hugged and prayed.  I've fallen apart and gotten up again.  Panic rises quickly when the mind is focused on the pain.

However, I've had frequent reminders of those six little eyes and six swinging legs.  Every time I remember, I seek His eyes.

Every time I find His eyes are already upon me, anticipating my need.

All I can see is love. And an invitation to trust.

It is enough.

For today.

Maybe all the questions will be answered someday when we go Home.

For now the warmth of His tender gaze is enough.

I will be with you, and I will protect you wherever you go...

I will be with you constantly 

until I have finished giving you everything I have promised.

Whom have I in heaven but you?

I desire you more than anything on earth.

My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak,

but God remains the strength of my heart;

He is mine forever!

Genesis 28:15

Psalm 73:25-26

NLT