Observing sacrifice during sacrifice...
This is a different Good Friday from any we have known.
I attended an online service this morning, provided by Bethany Church in Baton Rouge, Louisiana (where my oldest niece and her husband serve). The speaker noted the significance for us today, in our present circumstances, of families being gathered into their own homes for the original Passover meal. We are now gathering in our own homes rather than gathering in packed churches.
We could look at this as suffering, a loss of freedom. But what if it's an opportunity? What if God is wanting to prepare our hearts for other challenges ahead?
I am someone who tries to find significance and meaning in every situation. Yet I shy away from the notion that everything hard is sent by God to test us. And I don't like the phrase, "Everything happens for a reason." I don't believe God causes or sends evil. But I know He isn't surprised or caught off guard. And I believe He is able to use even the worst people and events for our good.
Everything that has ever tested my faith wound up building my faith. And it's easier to trust God at 60 than it was at 20 because He has been showing up with His love and grace again and again over those forty additional years of my life's mixed experiences. He hasn't carried me through all those years to drop me now. And although His will for me may not always coincide with what I would choose, I know His will is for my ultimate good. His will is for me to be triumphant over every situation, challenge, trial, adversity. His will is for me to find joy and peace in Him and in knowing He is in control.
Sometimes a mountain is removed. But other times we receive the strength and grace to scale the mountain in front of us and stand triumphantly on its peak. Either way, faith increases. And we overcome. The mustard seed of faith sprouts. And when that seed takes root deep in our hearts, nothing can remove it. Not even a lack of understanding.
Disease is part of life on earth. God doesn't have to specifically send a trial for us to find spiritual significance as we walk through it. When I lost my mom to cancer in 1987, I didn't struggle with my faith or being angry at God. I did experience grief, sorrow, loss, disappointment and a little confusion. But I also grew in wisdom and trust.
When John was diagnosed with a chronic leukemia in 2007, we had only been married for three years. I had spent decades in an abusive marriage. My fairy tale future suddenly felt fractured with that diagnosis. My fear of losing him overwhelmed me.
But one day, I was watering flowers on my back patio as I cried and prayed. I had learned that a range of prognostic markers provided a window into how each patient's CLL might be expected to progress. Certain markers indicated an indolent form of the disease, while others were predictive of a more aggressive and resistant-to-treatment progression.
We had an appointment for John to receive testing and evaluation at Mayo. And I was praying that John would have "all good markers." I prayed that way because having all the good markers would put my mind at ease about the future. My dad had CLL and had no symptoms other than a high white count for 18 years. His CLL was quite indolent (He died of Parkinson's). I learned of patients who lived more than 25 years following diagnosis and died of old age (even before the newer therapies we have today). Good markers predicted the "better" future I wanted to cling to.
I did not hear an audible voice respond to my prayer. But I heard with crystal clarity a voice that was not my own speak inside my thoughts. And that voice said: "I don't want you to put your faith in the markers. I want you to put your faith and trust in Me; that I am working all things for your good. Even this." (Emphasis on "even this.") In another conversation, I experienced God reminding me to enjoy and appreciate my today instead of projecting myself into an uncertain future. He reminded me that all of our futures are uncertain; with or without a diagnosis. I was allowing my fear to rob me of my present joy. And I remember distinctly these words: "I haven't taken John from you. He's alive and he's in good health. This is not the time to grieve. It's the time to live."
Those experiences have never left me and I've shared them before. But today I felt to share them again.
Within months of moving to WV in 2012, John choked on a piece of chicken in our kitchen. He couldn't swallow any water and he couldn't breathe. I tried to do the Heimlich Maneuver and failed repeatedly to dislodge the obstruction. With tears running down my cheeks, I felt frozen in time and helplessness. I watched as John walked away from me, and out into the garage. He was calm and then he bent over at the waist and stood that way for a few seconds. Slowly he regained his breath.
Once he was breathing normally, he told me what he had prayed while he thought he might be in the final moments of his life. He said he wasn't afraid. He was worried about me. He told me he asked God to take him in a different way if it was his time. He said he told God that if he died right in front of me after I had tried to help and couldn't, he feared I would blame myself and carry that for the rest of my life. In that moment, he said God told him to bend forward. He did. And he started to get a little bit of air.
When the crisis was over, I felt overwhelmed with emotion. I walked into the bedroom and cried (to God, I guess), "His life was in my hands and I was completely useless!" And in that same voice I heard on my back porch years before, He responded: "His life was never in your hands. His life is in My hands." I immediately reflected on the fears of 2007; that CLL would take John from me prematurely. It hit me that if I had lost John that day (in 2012), it would have had nothing to do with CLL -- the "thing" I had feared taking him. It would have been unanticipated -- in spite of the known diagnosis. And I realized that every tomorrow is in God's hands; those we are worried about and those we are not.
John mentioned to his doctor later that he thought the chicken had lodged in his esophagus and not his wind pipe. The doctor told us that if he had passed out, his esophagus may have relaxed and opened up. But it was possibly a blessing that I was unsuccessful at the Heimlich. If his esophagus had been obstructed, the Heimlich Maneuver done forcefully could have caused it to rupture. That was a lesson to me in total dependence. God can even use my helplessness.
I have reflected on that day many times since. Eight years have passed. John is still healthy and active, 13 years after his CLL diagnosis. I don't worry about CLL like I once did. I've learned to accept the journey God has given to us and embrace each day as a gift. I thank God every day for all the days we've enjoyed together, as I ask Him to grant us many more. And I trust in His faithfulness.
That doesn't mean we throw caution to the wind and live recklessly. We try to take care of our bodies. And, in response to the pandemic, we are content to stay in and help slow the spread of this virus by practicing extreme social distancing. We are thankful for the health of our bodies and minds. We do not take either for granted. And we have a responsibility to God and to others to be good stewards.
Our stewardship of God's gifts are not limited to finances. The earth is His, and ours to care for. We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves; which means to protect others; the health and welfare of others. We are called to lay down our lives. And while that has meant physical death for some, for us it may mean laying down our daily pursuits of activity and freedom in order to preserve the lives and welfare of the vulnerable (or "the least of these").
As Americans, it's so easy to be caught up in our "rights" as citizens of a free nation. But let us always remember that being a citizen of God's Kingdom supersedes our earthly nationality, freedoms and rights. Jesus did not talk about our rights. He was the ultimate example of servanthood and sacrificial, selfless love. And He calls us to follow His example.
I believe there is significance to be found in this experience extending through Passover, Good Friday and Easter Sunday. What better way to follow the example of Christ in sacrificial love than to lay aside our wants and desires (and rights) for the sake of loving our neighbors? We have been given a cross to bear and yet, simultaneously, an opportunity to represent the coming Kingdom to the world around us.
If God's love is not flowing through us to others at this time and we are more wrapped up in ourselves and our own circumstances, we are not representatives of Christ or His Kingdom. We are missing that opportunity. Good Friday should remind us that sacrificial suffering was a necessary part of the redemption story.
Our concerns for the future -- our health and our economic survival -- are real, just as my concerns for John having "all good markers" was real and justified. But John has done well in spite of not having all good markers. We are tempted to look to models and predictions, human leaders and representatives, even the stock market for signs of hope -- just like I asked for the "good markers" to ease my mind. But God wants our faith and trust in Him.
I attended an online service this morning, provided by Bethany Church in Baton Rouge, Louisiana (where my oldest niece and her husband serve). The speaker noted the significance for us today, in our present circumstances, of families being gathered into their own homes for the original Passover meal. We are now gathering in our own homes rather than gathering in packed churches.
We could look at this as suffering, a loss of freedom. But what if it's an opportunity? What if God is wanting to prepare our hearts for other challenges ahead?
I am someone who tries to find significance and meaning in every situation. Yet I shy away from the notion that everything hard is sent by God to test us. And I don't like the phrase, "Everything happens for a reason." I don't believe God causes or sends evil. But I know He isn't surprised or caught off guard. And I believe He is able to use even the worst people and events for our good.
Everything that has ever tested my faith wound up building my faith. And it's easier to trust God at 60 than it was at 20 because He has been showing up with His love and grace again and again over those forty additional years of my life's mixed experiences. He hasn't carried me through all those years to drop me now. And although His will for me may not always coincide with what I would choose, I know His will is for my ultimate good. His will is for me to be triumphant over every situation, challenge, trial, adversity. His will is for me to find joy and peace in Him and in knowing He is in control.
Sometimes a mountain is removed. But other times we receive the strength and grace to scale the mountain in front of us and stand triumphantly on its peak. Either way, faith increases. And we overcome. The mustard seed of faith sprouts. And when that seed takes root deep in our hearts, nothing can remove it. Not even a lack of understanding.
Disease is part of life on earth. God doesn't have to specifically send a trial for us to find spiritual significance as we walk through it. When I lost my mom to cancer in 1987, I didn't struggle with my faith or being angry at God. I did experience grief, sorrow, loss, disappointment and a little confusion. But I also grew in wisdom and trust.
When John was diagnosed with a chronic leukemia in 2007, we had only been married for three years. I had spent decades in an abusive marriage. My fairy tale future suddenly felt fractured with that diagnosis. My fear of losing him overwhelmed me.
But one day, I was watering flowers on my back patio as I cried and prayed. I had learned that a range of prognostic markers provided a window into how each patient's CLL might be expected to progress. Certain markers indicated an indolent form of the disease, while others were predictive of a more aggressive and resistant-to-treatment progression.
We had an appointment for John to receive testing and evaluation at Mayo. And I was praying that John would have "all good markers." I prayed that way because having all the good markers would put my mind at ease about the future. My dad had CLL and had no symptoms other than a high white count for 18 years. His CLL was quite indolent (He died of Parkinson's). I learned of patients who lived more than 25 years following diagnosis and died of old age (even before the newer therapies we have today). Good markers predicted the "better" future I wanted to cling to.
I did not hear an audible voice respond to my prayer. But I heard with crystal clarity a voice that was not my own speak inside my thoughts. And that voice said: "I don't want you to put your faith in the markers. I want you to put your faith and trust in Me; that I am working all things for your good. Even this." (Emphasis on "even this.") In another conversation, I experienced God reminding me to enjoy and appreciate my today instead of projecting myself into an uncertain future. He reminded me that all of our futures are uncertain; with or without a diagnosis. I was allowing my fear to rob me of my present joy. And I remember distinctly these words: "I haven't taken John from you. He's alive and he's in good health. This is not the time to grieve. It's the time to live."
Those experiences have never left me and I've shared them before. But today I felt to share them again.
Within months of moving to WV in 2012, John choked on a piece of chicken in our kitchen. He couldn't swallow any water and he couldn't breathe. I tried to do the Heimlich Maneuver and failed repeatedly to dislodge the obstruction. With tears running down my cheeks, I felt frozen in time and helplessness. I watched as John walked away from me, and out into the garage. He was calm and then he bent over at the waist and stood that way for a few seconds. Slowly he regained his breath.
Once he was breathing normally, he told me what he had prayed while he thought he might be in the final moments of his life. He said he wasn't afraid. He was worried about me. He told me he asked God to take him in a different way if it was his time. He said he told God that if he died right in front of me after I had tried to help and couldn't, he feared I would blame myself and carry that for the rest of my life. In that moment, he said God told him to bend forward. He did. And he started to get a little bit of air.
When the crisis was over, I felt overwhelmed with emotion. I walked into the bedroom and cried (to God, I guess), "His life was in my hands and I was completely useless!" And in that same voice I heard on my back porch years before, He responded: "His life was never in your hands. His life is in My hands." I immediately reflected on the fears of 2007; that CLL would take John from me prematurely. It hit me that if I had lost John that day (in 2012), it would have had nothing to do with CLL -- the "thing" I had feared taking him. It would have been unanticipated -- in spite of the known diagnosis. And I realized that every tomorrow is in God's hands; those we are worried about and those we are not.
John mentioned to his doctor later that he thought the chicken had lodged in his esophagus and not his wind pipe. The doctor told us that if he had passed out, his esophagus may have relaxed and opened up. But it was possibly a blessing that I was unsuccessful at the Heimlich. If his esophagus had been obstructed, the Heimlich Maneuver done forcefully could have caused it to rupture. That was a lesson to me in total dependence. God can even use my helplessness.
I have reflected on that day many times since. Eight years have passed. John is still healthy and active, 13 years after his CLL diagnosis. I don't worry about CLL like I once did. I've learned to accept the journey God has given to us and embrace each day as a gift. I thank God every day for all the days we've enjoyed together, as I ask Him to grant us many more. And I trust in His faithfulness.
That doesn't mean we throw caution to the wind and live recklessly. We try to take care of our bodies. And, in response to the pandemic, we are content to stay in and help slow the spread of this virus by practicing extreme social distancing. We are thankful for the health of our bodies and minds. We do not take either for granted. And we have a responsibility to God and to others to be good stewards.
Our stewardship of God's gifts are not limited to finances. The earth is His, and ours to care for. We are called to love our neighbors as ourselves; which means to protect others; the health and welfare of others. We are called to lay down our lives. And while that has meant physical death for some, for us it may mean laying down our daily pursuits of activity and freedom in order to preserve the lives and welfare of the vulnerable (or "the least of these").
As Americans, it's so easy to be caught up in our "rights" as citizens of a free nation. But let us always remember that being a citizen of God's Kingdom supersedes our earthly nationality, freedoms and rights. Jesus did not talk about our rights. He was the ultimate example of servanthood and sacrificial, selfless love. And He calls us to follow His example.
I believe there is significance to be found in this experience extending through Passover, Good Friday and Easter Sunday. What better way to follow the example of Christ in sacrificial love than to lay aside our wants and desires (and rights) for the sake of loving our neighbors? We have been given a cross to bear and yet, simultaneously, an opportunity to represent the coming Kingdom to the world around us.
If God's love is not flowing through us to others at this time and we are more wrapped up in ourselves and our own circumstances, we are not representatives of Christ or His Kingdom. We are missing that opportunity. Good Friday should remind us that sacrificial suffering was a necessary part of the redemption story.
Our concerns for the future -- our health and our economic survival -- are real, just as my concerns for John having "all good markers" was real and justified. But John has done well in spite of not having all good markers. We are tempted to look to models and predictions, human leaders and representatives, even the stock market for signs of hope -- just like I asked for the "good markers" to ease my mind. But God wants our faith and trust in Him.
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