Run, Christian, Run!

My rambling contemplations this September morning. The Spirit inside me speaks at times, and I simply can't keep it to myself:

Hebrew 12: 1-2
"Since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us lay aside every weight, and the sin which so easily ensnares us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith"

As I read this passage this morning, having read it probably thousands of times over the course of my Christian journey, I felt a pressing need to read it with fresh vision, to read with heightened understanding, to know more fully what the author was trying to convey to his readers.

The previous chapter details this "cloud of witnesses" that surrounds us:

~ Abel, who obeyed God's guidelines for making sacrifice
~ Enoch, who was a friend to God and has yet to taste death (Revelation gives clues as to God's exciting plan for Enoch in the Tribulation)
~ Noah, whose faith in an unseen God saved not only his entire family, but the future of all living creatures
~ Abraham, who packed up everything he owned and obeyed God's command to go, even though he didn't know where he was being led
~ Isaac, who blessed Esau and Jacob and detailed their futures by faith in the One who was able to bring it to pass
~ Sarah, who believed that God was faithful to fulfil His promises, even when he promised her a child in her old age
~ Moses, who walked away from his life in the Pharoah's palace to identify with God's oppressed people and lead them to freedom
~ Rahab, the prostitute who believed it was worth risking her life to help God's people, and from whose genealogical line Jesus came
~ The entire Israelite nation, who passed through the Red Sea with the Egyptian army in hot pursuit, because God parted the waters and told them to
~ Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel, the prophets, and many, many more men and women whose faith shines in the pages of Scripture and the annals of history

We have these examples, and so many more from more recent times, like George Mueller (one of my personal favourites), who so many times would sit down at the empty table with the children from his orphanage and begin to talk to God and say "Well, Father, here we are, ready to eat. What will You provide for us today?". Invariably there would be a knock on the door and a milkman would have a broken wheel and be unable to make his rounds, so would donate the milk so it wouldn't spoil. Someone would arrive with fresh produce, a dozen fresh loaves of bread, or an envelope of money with a note saying someone had felt a sudden and pressing urgency to send provision to George's ministry. All those hungry mouths, all those years of running the orphanage, and not one day did they go without a meal. And that is the God we serve. That same God provides for us.

These are hard times, and these are dark times. They will get harder and darker before it's all said and done. Our brothers and sisters are suffering and dying all over the world, and there doesn't seem to be any relief or escape in sight. It's so easy for us to sit here in the Western world and say that God has a plan, but what about those living with the reality of ISIS on their doorsteps, families drowning while trying to escape the oppression in their homelands, girls being sold into slavery and treated as disposable sexual trinkets, little boys being taught that the horror of beheading another human being is normal and acceptable.

An American pastor named Saeed Abedini has been imprisoned in Iran since 2012 for the crime of speaking about Christ in private homes. His wife Nagmeh and their two children, Jacob and Rebekka, have been praying for his release for three straight years, as they receive reports of his beatings and torture. President Obama has thus far refused to get involved in demanding the release of this American citizen. His wife has recently felt a strong sense that God is preparing her for something very difficult. Her hope and faith are being shaken.

The hope we have is only a tiny glimmer sometimes. We're not even sure if we actually see a flicker of light, or just imagine it on the distant horizon. But make no mistake... HE. IS. COMING. BACK!!!!!! In an instant, in the blink of an eye, this world will be plunged into terror and chaos as we who identify with Christ as our God will disappear. We will not be abandoned. This is just the waiting room to eternity. Which door we step through is the deciding factor to where we spend our eternity.

All the things that trip us up and hold us down in this world are temporary and unimportant in the light of eternity. Why do we spend our time and energy on things that won't last, that won't go into eternity with us? Women, why are we pouring our lives into our external appearances, our weight loss goals, our hair, our clothing, our perfectly decorated homes, our careers? Men, why are you chasing after possessions, homes, cars, toys, sex, power?

'Let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus". Everything else will dim and pale by comparison. In these Last Days, these End Times, nothing else should matter to the Christian.

So today, I pledge to run toward Jesus, my future. And tomorrow, I will renew my pledge. And every day thereafter, I will start all over again.

Who's with me?

I'm Coming Back to the Heart of Worship

There is so much on my heart and mind right now. So many different emotions simmering just below the surface. Sometimes the feelings just bubble up in my eyes without me even being aware, such as when my husband reached down and gently wiped a tear from the corner of my eye in church this morning.

It's a mix of so many different things... the chronic pain and exhaustion that keep me pushing myself beyond the scope of my endurance every single day; the pressure to be a more involved mother for my children, when all I really want to do is pop painkillers and sleep; the heartbreak of watching my precious daughter struggling with the same pain and fatigue I've had since my teens, and knowing that no mainstream doctor will know how to treat her, just as they don't know how to treat me; the spiritual battlefield at work that requires constant vigilance; the pain of past abuse, and the struggle with guilt for not taking the kids and leaving sooner; the ever-present thought that this disease will end my life and there will be nothing left to show for it but damaged children and a heartbroken husband.

Worship is the last thing on my mind lately, and yet... worship is what my wounded heart so desperately needs.

I don't mean worship in the popular, contemporary sense, where good feelings and positive emotions are evoked by upbeat, repetitive music and a skilled entertainer/"worship leader" who knows all the psychological tricks for building the pre-service from a light introduction to an energetic body that culminates in a crescendo of emotional release and dies down into warm and calm before a twenty minute pep talk to prepare you for the week ahead.

I'm talking about coming to the alter and laying your burdens down before the Master with your heart broken and laid bare, begging Him to pick up the pieces and put them back together in whatever way would please Him most. I'm talking about meeting with God personally, with a spirit willing to change, gladly surrendering every pain, every struggle, every shattered dream... and they are countless.

You cannot come into the presence of the Living God and leave unchanged. If you walk away from a time of worship the same as when you arrived, you have not worshiped. Do not mistake emotion for worship, for while worship invokes emotion, it does not always flow from emotion.

And so today, in the midst of pain and tears that just won't stop, I pushed myself to get out of bed and drive to church, and in the presence of the One who loved me so much He willingly submitted to His own murder to bridge the gap my sin had created between me and Him, I opened my heart and asked not for healing, but for the strength and grace to shine in the darkness. I asked for wisdom in knowing how to love my children back to wholeness. I asked for forgiveness for my impatience and my many, many shortcomings. I praised Him for the knowledge that in spite of all these chains weighing me down, I AM ALREADY A CONQUEROR!!! I am a child of the only true God and living King! I am only here temporarily, training for the time when I will trade this defective body for a new one that is perfect and imperishable, and I will cast all my crowns and trophies at His feet and give credit where credit is due.

And in the middle of crippling pain, fear for my children's future, and sorrow for the lasting effects of a painful past, I found myself standing bathed in the light of the presence of my God, and I worshiped.

Of Kings and Epitaphs

There is so much on my mind lately. I hardly know what to think about, because there are so many things fighting to be thought about. All the unrest in the world news, the persecution and suffering of people who have done nothing to incite the violence being brought against them, riots and looting in "civilized" Middle America... all of it is front and centre in the media and in everyone's mind.

Closer to home, our own family's effort to seek God's will for our lives has brought us to the point of believing we are to move fifteen hours north to a part of the country that has nine months of winter, which means my husband will be leaving the steady job he has done for twenty-five years, leaving his three children behind, I will be leaving two of my children behind, I will be taking four of my children away from their father (I have sole custody, for some very good reasons, but I still feel mean taking them away from him) and neither one of us has confirmation of a job to date.

My health is improving overall, but it is a very slow process, and I am still so tired and sore. There are lots of setbacks, lots of going back to the starting point, lots of rerouting treatment plans. This disease affects each person uniquely, which means each person requires a unique treatment approach, so there is a lot of trial and error, lots of guesswork, and very litte certainty that any of it will actually work in the end.

Have we lost our minds??! As far as the world is concerned, yes. It would certainly appear that way.

This morning I was reading an article about the beheading of journalist James Foley by Islamic militants, and I watched a stilted statement made by him just prior to his murder. It got me thinking: what would I want to say to the world in those moments before being killed? Would I beg and plead for my life? Would I tell my family how much I love and treasure them? Would I condemn my captors and spew my fear and anger?

Begging for a stay of execution doesn't affect terrorists whose mission and goal is the annhilation and destruction of everything that is not Islam. It would gain me nothing, and would upset my loved ones greatly to think that I died terrified and frantic.

I hope that I have lived my life in such a way that my family would know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I loved and treasured them to the very end, and that that knowledge would comfort them in my absence.

I have never cared to waste time condemning anyone. It only breeds hatred, and there is enough hatred in this world already. I never want my children to harbour hatred, and I feel strongly that it would be wrong for me to set that example. (Please do not confuse this for tolerance... there are many things in this world that should not be tolerated, glossed over or accepted. But letting hatred take root and control our actions is detrimental and soul-strangling.)

And then I remembered the words of a poem written by Elisabeth Elliot, the wife of martyred missionary Jim Elliot, who gave his life trying to reach the Auca tribe in Peru, and I knew that the sentiments she expressed are the cry of my heart, and that I would want them to be my testimony, my message to my loved ones, and the words engraved on my tombstone for all to see:

"Lord, give to me a quiet heart that does not ask to understand, but confident steps forward in the darkness guided by Your hand."

There is so much darkness in this world. So much pain, fear, hatred, anger. So much Satan. So little Jesus. And yet... He is still here, and longs to be seen by all who will open their eyes of faith and look for Him.

There is absolutely no doubt that Satan is the Prince of this world and the ruler of this age. But I have crowned another King over my life, and I refuse to recognize Satan's rule. Still, He is wrapped in beautiful things, desirable things, power, wealth, fame, luxury, comfort, and it is a daily battle to keep my eyes on my humble King, who makes no such promises in this life. Instead, He promises heartache, hardship, loneliness and struggle for those who choose to follow Him. He promises that the world will not accept us, that we will be hated, sometimes even by the family that we dearly love, and that we will be seen as weak and foolish by people whose eyes are on another ruler.

We do not make a choice to keep our eyes on Jesus because He promises comfort in this life. We choose to keep moving toward Him because we know that this life is just make-believe, practice for the life that is coming. We know this because when we first took that tentative step of faith and chose to believe He has provided a way for us to be acceptable to God, His spirit entered us and constantly prods us to keep looking to Him. By keeping our eyes on the King we have chosen to rule our lives, we will be able to more clearly see the path we should take. The ruler we choose to keep our eyes turned to is the one that will direct our path. Choose wisely. Contrary to what the world says, it is the destination that counts much more than the journey.

When we take a long journey and arrive at our final destination, what a joy it is to see our loved ones there, after a time of being apart from them! It is the same way when our destination is heaven. Our greatest joy will be in seeing our loved ones there. For this reason, and knowing that my final words would be replayed in the minds of my husband and children for years to come, I would want the last thing I said to be reassurance that I was confident in my salvation, and that I would be waiting to meet them at the gates of heaven when they arrived.

If you were the one kneeling in front of a video camera with an executioner standing ready to remove your head, what would you want your last words to be?

"For the word of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God." --- 1 Corinthians 1:18

Life with Lyme

I'm tired today. Not regular tired, where you were up late last night and had a busy day today, and now all you want to do is sit down with a nice cool drink, watch a couple of favourite shows, and then head to bed early.

I'm "Lyme tired". As in, I did practically nothing today but I can barely move, my eyes are so bleary they're watering nonstop and people keep asking me why I'm crying, and I look like I aged ten years in a single day. No amount of makeup can hide "Lyme tired", and I have no idea if it's going to last for a week or be gone by tomorrow morning.

This disease is so frustrating. I want to plan weekend barbecues, late night movie dates with my husband, take my Littles to the park for a picnic, get a full time job, walk with the dogs around the lake every evening, take meals to encourage people when they're sick or have a new baby, take up a hobby or two... but no. I'm still too sick. I don't want to be sick. I pretend I'm not sick all the time.

Today I sat on the couch with a plate of breakfast and a cold drink, dogs at my feet, watching a movie with my oldest daughter, and I thought "wow, this is really nice". It felt so "normal", except for the fact that I was tied to an i.v. tube for an hour. 

That's my "normal" now. Get up, take eight medicines, take the kids to school, come home, have breakfast, start my i.v., take a nap. Get up, take seven medicines, plan dinner and/or start the crockpot, have a nap. Pick kids up from school, run an errand (which generally means I nap in the van while my older girls go into the store or wherever), drive home, make supper, rest for a bit. Make lunches for the next day, head upstairs, take six medicines, fall into bed exhausted. Every. Single. Day.

One of the most frustrating things about this disease is the fact that it is a neurological illness, meaning that it affects the brain. The whole brain. It doesn't pick and choose which parts of the brain to mess with. Not only are there destructive bacteria in my brain at any given moment, as the antibiotics do their job and they die off in every other part of my body, they release toxins which accumulate in the brain, causing pain, confusion, and major emotional storms. I've pretty much conquered the fits of rage (and yes, there were many of those over the years, for which I will forever feel guilty), but the fatigue and pain just get to be too much to handle some days and they leak down my face in the form of tears at the most inconventient times. I have no idea how to conquer the tears. To be honest, I'm too tired to try.

I am learning to be grateful for the things the healthy Susan might have taken for granted: my husband coming in the door after work and walking straight across the room to kiss me hello before he even cleaned out his lunch bag; the lack of rain today so the kids can play outside and not strew their toys, blankets and dirty dishes around the house; the warm(ish) temperature that allows me to have the windows open for a fresh breeze; my 18 year old daughter's culinary expertise and willingness to pick up making the dinner I had planned and run out of steam while doing. 

Lyme Disease gives you a choice: you can either choose to let the discouragement, pain and frustration take over and strangle your spirit, or you can choose to find beauty in the little things and let them be a healing balm.

Tonight my healing balm is Jambalaya with chicken, sausage, shrimp, peppers, onions and peas, made by my thoughtful daughter-blessing. To her future husband: you're welcome. This girl is an amazing cook, instinctive and creative. She embodies beauty, and you will be blessed many times over by her cooking. Trust me. This Jambalaya is delicious.

And now the love of my life is taking me for a drive that may or may not include ice cream. He knows when I have exhausted my store of endurance, and knows that alone time with him recharges my drained batteries. More beauty, and another healing balm.

Thank you, Father, for the blessings you have hidden in the pain, like diamonds waiting to be unearthed. For these I am deeply grateful.

Blessings,

me. <3