Some Golden Daybreak – for me, for you

January 2, 2020January 2, 2020 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

I didn’t have any intention of writing today and rather hoped to withdraw inside myself for awhile … but these words wouldn’t stop until they were written, although hastily written they certainly are. Perhaps someone else could use them too.

I woke and immediately a sense of sadness began to fill my slowly stirring mind.

My autistic son was heading back to school today and while I should have been relieved to finally get a break, I felt a heavy weight instead. This holiday break had been challenging … no, actually it was downright hard in many ways. The first few days weren’t too bad but by the second day after Christmas, everything fell apart.

He can’t tell me what is wrong so I learn by observation, but even at that, I can never assume I know what is happening inside of him. However, one thing was very evident … he gave every impression of being consumed with anxiety.

Yes, he is on medication. Yes, I also use supplements for him.

Sometimes, they aren’t enough.

This was one of those times.

By the last evening before his return to school, I was curled up on the couch, unable to fight one more battle. My heart raced, my chest ached from a heavy weight of grief, I was devoid of strength. Trying to grasp what I could not possibly understand, while working to support my son and stay ahead of whatever was gripping his mind, was suddenly too much.

I didn’t cry. I couldn’t speak. I just held a blanket against my chest and prayed for bedtime to come. Relief for us both.

That relief was nowhere to be found when I woke in the early morning hours even as the house rested quietly around me. I couldn’t escape the memories nor the heavy weight and overwhelming sense of responsibility.

The burden felt too great for my shoulders alone.

Often, while reading articles or perusing comments to articles or new stories, I find a mocking response towards the ones who seek the Lord in times of distress.

“Religion is a waste of time”, they say. “There is no God.”

Their tone condescending, their words belittling … they deny the very truth we stand on as believers and followers of Christ.

I understand.

Sometimes as believers, even we wonder if what we believe is really true.

Oh, most of us will never admit that but when the storms of life hit and knock you senseless to the ground, a quick instinctive response often rips from the depths of our soul …

“GOD! Where are you?!”

Where is He …

For the widow who weeps alone today, recently bereft of the love of her husband?

For the daughter, who longs for his embrace?

For the mother who prayed and longed for her prodigal child to return for so many years, only to see her go further away?

For the grandma beside the grave of the grandson she raised?

For the heartbroken widow, remarried and finding herself in a horrendous situation?

For the wife waiting for the cancer to win the last round?

For the mother broken with sorrow for a child she doesn’t know how to help?

These are my friends, my family, my sisters in the Lord … the ones in my prayers this morning.

Each has been forever touched by sorrow.

“God! Where are you?”

We are not alone in our brokenness and one does not need to search long before finding Scripture that seem to echo the very words coursing through us with each beat of a troubled heart …

“Be not far from me, for trouble is near; For there is none to help.”
Psalm 22:11

Give ear to my words, O Lord,
Consider my groaning.
Heed the sound of my cry for help, my King and my God,
For to You I pray.
In the morning, O Lord, You will hear my voice;
In the morning I will order my prayer to You and eagerly watch.
Psalm 5:1-3

As the deer pants for the water brooks,
So my soul pants for You, O God.
My soul thirsts for God, for the living God;
When shall I come and appear before God?
My tears have been my food day and night,
While they say to me all day long, “Where is your God?”
Psalm 42:1-3

Where is He?

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
Psalm 34:18

He is near to you.

As hard as it is to grasp sometimes when we feel alone in the journey, the Lord does know what we are walking through when seasons of grief and sorrow come our way. We can find a measure of comfort in that He knows what we are experiencing for He has walked the way of grief as well.

“He was despised and forsaken of men,
A man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
And like one from whom men hide their face
He was despised, and we did not esteem Him.”
Isaiah 53:3

I walked into my kitchen just as the sun was breaking over the horizon. The barren trees stood starkly against the background of dark blues, gentle pinks, and subtle oranges. The bird feeder swayed quietly from the branches without a single bird to be seen. This view from my kitchen window drew me outside, despite the frosty chill, until I stood in wonder of a beautiful sunrise after the grief of a weary night. What a loving God to paint glorious sunrises with the promise of the most beautiful one yet to come.

Some glorious morning sorrow will cease
Some glorious morning all will be peace
Heartaches all ended, school days all done
Heaven will open – Jesus will come.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

Sad hearts will gladden, all shall be bright
Goodbye forever to earth’s dark night
Changed in a moment, like Him to be
Oh, glorious daybreak, Jesus I’ll see.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

Oh, what a meeting, there in the skies
No tears nor crying shall dim our eyes
Loved ones united eternally
Oh, what a daybreak that morn will be.

Some golden daybreak Jesus will come
Some golden daybreak, battles all won
He’ll shout the vict’ry, break thro’ the blue
Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.
(written by Carl A. Blackmore)

To the ones who would mock and consider me a fool for placing my trust in a Savior they believe doesn’t exist, I’m actually okay with that and I don’t blame you. I do believe the day will come that you will understand the truth upon which I live.

But to the ones who know the voice of their Shepherd and are walking through a pathway of sorrow, I hope you find encouragement and strength in His Word to face today. Tomorrow will take care of itself.

Before my son left this morning, I stood beside him as he sat on his char, waiting for his van to arrive. I felt powerless and helpless, until I did the only thing I could … I placed my hand on his shoulder and began to pray. I prayed until my hand moved to the top of his head and my voice broke from the tears as I pleaded with Jesus for more.
“Give him more, Jesus. Give him more.”

That is my prayer for you today as well.

“Give her more, Jesus. Give her more.”

Friends, a glorious daybreak is coming when all the sin and sorrow that plagues this earth will cease and Jesus will come to restore what was once broken. No more autism. No more cancer. No more death. No more grief. No more tears.

Some golden daybreak, for me, for you.

December 31, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

We stand at the dawn of a new year.

The time when we diligently make new goals, bravely set (or reset last year’s) resolutions, and in general, feel a need to shake things up.

Make changes or possibly, insist we are fine, just as we are.

In any case, be the master of our own destiny.

But what does that look like for the believer? For the one who seeks to follow God?

Here are my thoughts … offered hesitantly and humbly.

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As a child, I had hopes and dreams, albeit they were mostly simple and shallow. For example, driving home from church on a summer Sunday evening and hoping that my Dad would skip the turn to go home and instead go straight towards the local dairy parlor for ice cream.

Their chocolate ice cream was so good!

I never asked him but he knew we always wanted ice cream. Each drive home from church, I would sit in the backseat, silently wishing and repeating over and over, “Go straight, Dad … please go straight.”

If the car still turned towards home, I would be disappointed but never upset. I could wish for an ice cream cone all I wanted but, as my father, it was his decision whether or not it was a good time to provide it.

As a child, I was dependent on my father to provide and even when I didn’t understand, I usually trusted him.

Or what man is there among you who, when his son asks for a loaf, will give him a stone? Or if he asks for a fish, he will not give him a snake, will he? If you then, being evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give what is good to those who ask Him!
Matthew 7:9-11

We human beings tend to be independent, rather self-focused creatures, wouldn’t you agree? We want what we want, when we want it. We want comfort, security, success, the admiration of others … and more independence.

As a teenager, I often frustrated my Dad because I never told him when I needed something. When I was driving one of his vehicles, I never mentioned if I needed gas money. I would simply take money from my birthday stash and put gas in the car. Some of it may have been family circumstances at the time, but a large part of it was a stubborn independent instinct that had been stirred awake. If I needed something, I instinctively searched for ways to provide it for myself. I didn’t want to be dependent on anyone. I didn’t want to be a bother. I probably hoped that my Dad would give me gas money, but I certainly didn’t ask.

Not asking became normal. Discouraging any hopeful expectation became a habit.

So I was surprised many years later, when my current Pastor mentioned that I don’t seem to ask God for very much. After being a witness and a voice of counsel on my journey for a number of years, he finally said, “Tanya, you really need to learn to ask God for more.”

I was taken aback.

What? Ask God for more?

Why did that seem so … scary?

Why did my instinct scream that I couldn’t possibly ask God for more?

Well, like many of us, I have very distinct memories of God not answering my prayers.

The desperate prayers of a young teenager who didn’t feel she could face another day as she soaked her pillow with tears each night.

The heartsick, confused young wife, still staining a pillow with tears as she struggled to understand.

The broken tears of a mother as she watched autism steal her son away.

I couldn’t ask God for more because deep inside, I had stopped trusting Him.

He didn’t answer my prayers the way I had pleaded with Him to do for so many years.

When I begged Him to move life straight forward towards that coveted chocolate ice cream cone, He turned onto a road that led a different direction. Definitely not where I wanted to go. He didn’t give me what I asked for and eventually, I stopped trusting Him. I stopped asking.

Sure, I paid lip service to Him but deep inside, I became more intent on being independent. I would find a way to survive this life He had given me. I would do something good with it. I would say I trusted Him … and yet, I never did as I held tightly onto the reins of my life.

“Tanya, ask God for more.”

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The very nature of my life does not allow for much freedom so the concept of asking for ‘more’ seems counterintuitive and pointless. The details of why this is are not important to this post but my journey has often been one of a solitary pilgrim walking in a hidden, desert place. I fought this journey for years, desperate for a life that allowed the freedoms that I watched others enjoy. I resented the restrictions of my life and struggled with a deep bitterness. I pushed hard to find ways to gain more freedom and independence and, in the process, wore myself out and received no blessing from the Lord. Essentially, it was more His will to keep me hidden, than flying free. My life began to resemble a bird imprisoned inside a cage. I longed for freedom but the circumstances of my life were as bars surrounding me, preventing my escape.

I beat my wings against those bars, trying to break my way out until I was completely broken inside. Then I set about making that bird cage the nicest it could be. If I had to be stuck, it was at least going to be a noteworthy cage. But, the One who has allowed all the restricting portions of my life has never allowed me to have my own way. He purposed to teach me how to live the life I have from the only One who knew how.

Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest. Take My yoke upon you and learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For My yoke is easy and My burden is light.”
Matthew 11:28-30

Spending time in the Scriptures, learning of Him, seeking Him in all the hidden details of my life, is bringing about an understanding that far surpasses the God of my childhood.

I have studied His character and I am learning to find rest in His sovereignty and grace. I am continually learning that God is good. He is so good to me.

The Lord, the Lord God, merciful
and gracious, longsuffering, and
abounding in goodness and truth.
Exodus 34:6

You know, I may have been disappointed when I did not get that chocolate ice cream cone as a young child, but it never changed how I viewed my Dad. I spent enough time with him to understand his character and that I could trust him even when he didn’t give me what I wanted.

When we invest time in our relationship with the Lord, we learn the character and nature of our God and this is actually what sustains and carries us through the hard seasons of life. We might not understand the purpose of our suffering but we find all we need when we understand the character of the God who allows it. When we depend on Him as the source of our strength, He takes on the yoke of our burden and walks beside us on our journey. He teaches us how to live this life the way Jesus lived His earthly life … sacrificially and honoring to God the Father.

As we live in the knowledge of His character, our response to hardship will change from, “God, why are You doing this to me?” to “God, I trust that You have allowed this in my life so teach me how to walk through it Your way.”

In the last 14 years, God has pretty much taken away every crutch I have ever used to limp my way through this life. He has not answered many of my prayers in the way I wanted. But instead, He has been doing something else altogether.

During the hardest seasons when I think I can’t take one more step, He is there carrying me through. When I don’t know what to do next, He provides direction. When I want to give up, He never lets me. Sometimes He tarries and lets me wait in silence. Sometimes He allows me to back myself into a position where I am forced to take an unwanted step … and then I see Him move on my behalf in amazing ways. His grace sustains me, His strength carries me.

Through it all what remains true is that the character of God is unchanging. He is good and pure in all His ways. When we can’t see the way in front of us because of the fiercest storms, we can trust the Captain who guides our ship.

This is what I have learned of my God while waiting as a bird, in a bird cage.

O taste and see that the Lord is good;
How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him!
Psalm 34:8

So more recently, when I heard our Pastor give a charge to our church body to ask God for ‘more’, it became a thing of beauty as I pondered the past and looked towards the future. ‘More’ became a word of hope … of promise.

Oh God, I want more of You. I want to be more of a gentle, quiet, burning candle shining fervently with the light of your mercy, love, and grace. I want more of You in the lives of my children. Please God, I want more. More of a life that is led by You and not by my own fear or selfish ambitions. I want to be more dependent on You and less dependent on myself. I want more. More dying of self and more love for others. Less of me and more of You. I want to trust You more when I don’t understand the journey and the loneliness of it threatens to steal my joy away. I want more of the work of the Holy Spirit in the depths of my being and outpouring in the fruits of my life … even if You are the only One who ever sees. Oh God, I ask You for more.

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Set all the goals you wish for this upcoming year of 2020 … but my challenge for you, for my children, and for myself is to walk with God more. Learn more of Him from His Word. Spend more time in prayer. Seek more of Him in every detail of your life. Confess and repent more of sin. Let nothing stand between you and God. Die more to self. Put Him first above all. Please join me in asking God for more … more of Himself.

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace.”

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

*Turn your eyes upon Jesus – hymn written by Helen Howorth Lemmel

My Christmas Testimony

December 28, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

One of the elements that had long been missing from my Christmas decor was a Nativity scene … a physical representation of the birth of Christ.

It was never from a lack of effort or desire, but rather, it was mostly due to autism.

Let’s just say, I have a number of broken nativities tucked away in my attic.

But finally, the year came that I felt that a nativity set would be safe from the hands of my son and with a little income at my disposable, I decided it was time to get the nativity I had wanted for so, so long … a Willow Tree Nativity.

The aesthetic appearance of Willow Tree figures has appealed to me from the very first time I saw them. They are simple in form, yet so peaceful and serene.

I deposited the money I had earned from a house-cleaning job and then I ordered the basic Nativity set … Joseph, a young shepherd, a couple of animals … and a kneeling Mary, holding the baby Jesus. I was so excited as it seemed I was in a new season of life and being able to purchase this set was a representation of that.

I remember when the package was delivered and I gingerly unwrapped each figure. I couldn’t wait to set it up so I quickly cleared off the stone mantel above the fireplace and carefully placed each piece. It was simple, it was restful, it was peaceful … it was everything I longed for, in a nativity set, in Christmas — and in life.

True to the nature of life, that sense of serenity didn’t last very long. During one night, a kitten I had rescued walked across the mantel and sent my Mary crashing to the stone slab below … shattering her to pieces.

I was heartbroken.

The following Christmas, I unpacked the Nativity scene once again and looked over the broken pieces of Mary. It seemed an impossible task but eventually we glued her somewhat haphazardly back together and placed her carefully on a shelf inside a closed cabinet.

Fragile with missing pieces … forever broken.

A couple of days before Christmas this year, I woke early to wrap my children’s Christmas presents so I could get them hidden away again before my son with autism woke. I sipped my coffee and settled into the rhythm of methodical wrapping while my children slept and my thoughts wandered.

It didn’t take very long until memories began to stir in the midst of the rustling paper and whispering scissors. Memories of long ago that seem to rise to the surface whenever I am wrapping Christmas presents.

I remember the Christmas when I had just the two boys, before my daughter was born.
I don’t remember much from that time but I know I didn’t wrap any presents that year.
I couldn’t. I just couldn’t do it.
I’m pretty sure I bought gifts for my boys and I may have bought wrapping paper —
but somehow, wrapping those presents seemed far too monumental a task.
Autism, intense sleep deprivation, behaviors, a fussy baby, and difficult family dynamics.
It was a hard season.
While there are many gaps in my memory, I’ve never forgotten those unwrapped presents nor the lingering guilt.

Those memories wandered through me once more and, same as years past, I thanked the Lord for the beauty of being able to wrap Christmas presents for my children now. This was going to be a good Christmas … I was going to make sure of that.

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Before I finished wrapping the presents however, my oldest son came down the stairs and before long was in the midst of a seemingly random meltdown. By the time I had worked through that relatively mild crisis with him, the restful joy I had been feeling as I wrapped presents was slowly vanishing like the morning mist.

Then I saw pictures on social media that sent the last of it flying away. There is such an overwhelming sense of sadness that hits when one of your children is left out of a circle of friends. This time, it triggered something deep inside.

I found myself in a war between deep sadness, old anger, and a desire for righteousness.

I prayed. Oh, how I prayed.

I didn’t understand the depth that was stirred in me nor where it had come from.

Suddenly, this Christmas, like so many before, had become overwhelming.

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*

Then a different Christmas memory began to stir. A memory I have always wished I could erase from my mind completely. I was nine or ten years old when an adored family member chose to go a different way in life. There were a series of decisions and selfish behaviors that sparked significant grief in my family and inspired a rather traumatic scene that Christmas. As those memories replayed through my thoughts, I realized just how deeply that time period had affected my life … and how I viewed Christmas.

My family’s entire reality changed that year. The childhood I knew was gone. And Christmas, that year and every year thereafter, was forever altered.

As I pondered these memories, the word, ‘expectations’ to mind and I began to understand that, because of the gaping hole left behind from that crushing Christmas, I have walked through life looking for something, anything to fill the empty spaces that were left behind. I began to understand that my identity had been intrinsically tied to memories of that Christmas and that overall traumatic time in my family’s story.

However, because of the work Christ has done in my life in recent years, I could also see the emptiness of my own efforts trying to glue the pieces back together … the futility of my own works.

I looked at my broken Mary on the shelf and realized she was me. Broken, with pieces missing, held perilously together by glue, ready to fall apart with the slightest touch.

But I also knew this was not who God created me to be. God’s plan for me does not include walking through life with holes and broken pieces from the decisions and actions of others … or my own, for that matter. God’s plan for me does not include using a glue gun to gingerly hold pieces together so I can at least look like I have it together. The brokenness of the past no longer defined me.

On Christmas Eve, I confessed my sin to God and handed Him my broken memories and missing pieces. Then, as I looked at my broken Mary in the cabinet, I asked God for more. More of Him. More wholeness. More of His transforming work in my life and the lives of my children. My only expectation would be Him.

Come, Thou long expected Jesus
Born to set Thy people free;
From our fears and sins release us,
Let us find our rest in Thee.
Israel’s strength and consolation,
Hope of all the earth Thou art;
Dear desire of every nation,
Joy of every longing heart.

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Christmas morning, after my children opened all their presents, my daughter brought her gift to me and knelt before me in anticipation, her eyes shining like stars in the night sky. After opening the box, I pulled out something wrapped in layer upon layer of bubble wrap and by the time I got to the last layer, I could see what lay inside …

A new Mary.

Unbroken. Whole. Complete.

My precious girl understood that the broken Mary was a source of sadness to me and apparently had been wanting to replace her for some time. When she earned some baby-sitting money, she reached out to her Grandmother and older cousin for help and between all their efforts, a new Mary was purchased.

After some tears and sweet hugs, I immediately went to the cabinet and carefully removed the broken Mary, who came out in pieces. As I did so, I noticed something I had not seen before. Mary was shattered into pieces, but the baby Jesus she was holding was not.

Mary was broken, but Jesus never was.

In my hands I held the truth that so long had evaded me. Life had caused sorrow and ripped holes inside of me. I had patched them together as well as I could but my efforts could not bring wholeness. Yet, Jesus has remained unbroken, solid, and completely true through all of the years. He was the center of what held the remainder of the broken Mary together.

I tenderly placed my broken Mary on the table and then picked up my new Mary, also holding sweet baby Jesus in her arms. As I placed her in the cabinet, a passage from Zechariah 3 came to mind … in these verses, the high priest Joshua was being accused by Satan as he stood in his own filthy clothes before an angel of the Lord. This is a picture of us in the filthy rags of our own righteousness standing before the Lord as we are also being accused by Satan. But, for Joshua the high priest, as well as, for the believer today, this is not the end of the story.

Now Joshua was clothed with filthy garments and standing before the angel. He spoke and said to those who were standing before him, saying, “Remove the filthy garments from him.” Again he said to him, “See, I have taken your iniquity away from you and will clothe you with festal robes.”
(Zechariah 3:3,4)

Christ has removed our iniquity as well by the sacrifice of the cross. When we accept His gift of salvation, our filthy garments are replaced with beautiful robes of His righteousness. No longer can Satan accuse us.

Christ’s gift, His sacrifice, makes us whole.

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*

On Christmas day, I stood between my two Marys … one broken and one whole.

One purchased by her own works with broken pieces held together by worthless glue and the other, whole and complete … a gift.

One Mary representing who I was and the other … who I am now and will be in Christ.

A promise, if you will.

I will rejoice greatly in the Lord,
My soul will exult in my God;
For He has clothed me with garments of salvation,
He has wrapped me with a robe of righteousness,
As a bridegroom decks himself with a garland,
And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.
Isaiah 61:10

You know, it was not in my power to make Christmas ‘good’ this year
— but Jesus made it beautiful.

**Come, Thou long expected Jesus written by Charles Wesley**

My Favorite Christmas

December 14, 2019December 14, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 2 Comments

My favorite Christmas is the Christmas I am living now.
My favorite memories are the memories I am making now.

The yester-years have passed, like feathers in the wind.
Taking with them many loved ones, I’ll not see again.

What the future holds, is not known to me.
Those in my life today, may not always be.

So, I will live in this very moment, in all of my todays.
I will love and enjoy the time I have with everyone of you.

Time is much too fleeting for worries and fear to grow.
So only in this moment will I live, spreading my Savior’s love,

My favorite Christmas is the Christmas I am living now.
My favorite memories are the memories I am making now.

Jesus is Still in the Boat

December 9, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

I took my son to the doctor for a physical this past week. I know, I know … probably not a news-worthy story to most people. I understand. But in my world, this was a matter of significance and great importance. My son is 18 years old now, of considerable size, has autism … and anything medical related is scary, But, due to a different need, this physical was required. You see, my son also has a life-long, intense anxiety regarding dentists, which inhibits even the most basic of exams. A couple of months ago, I finally learned of and reached out to a new dentist who offers sedation dentistry at a surgical center near their office, well over an hour away from our home. This dentist specializes in children, but also works with special needs adults … many of whom share my son’s fears. With the support of his teacher, we attempted a consultation visit with the dentist, which by the standards of most was not successful, but allowed him to be scheduled for sedation. The dentist assured me that they would take him on as a patient and, with those words, a significant burden began to lift from my shoulders.

The process to be seen for sedation is quite involved, both from the surgery center’s viewpoint as well as, from the needs of my son, so I have been working towards this appointment for the last couple of months. It has been a stressful but I was so thankful. For the first time ever, I didn’t feel as alone in this particular battle. I paid the upfront expenses and scheduled the sedation appointment. All the pieces were coming together fairly well so that the only major task left was the physical, which was required by the surgery center to clear him for sedation.

Now, my son is only slightly less fearful of doctors than he is of dentists so I was concerned about the success of this appointment; However, medical desensitization is a goal written into his IEP at his specialized autism school. Staff have been working with him, as I have been, for a number of years and he has made progress. I was nervous but hopeful the appointment would go well enough that the doctor would be able to supply the information the surgery center needed.

In a situation such as this, all I can do is prepare my son as much as possible, support him every step of the way, pray (pretty much without ceasing), and trust the Lord for the outcome.

My son was successful with this physical in the eyes of the Doctor, his teacher who was there to support him, and especially me. Even though he refused to allow certain things, we were able to do more than ever before and the doctor cleared him for sedation. We were so proud of him!

I was incredibly thankful as it appeared all was well and going according to plan. We just had one more week until his sedation appointment and then the worry of his teeth and the weight of this appointment would be behind me … just in time to focus exclusively on the Christmas season.

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I have been reading the book of Luke this advent season, trying to read a chapter a day so that I can finish the account on Christmas Eve. It is so easy to lose sight of why we observe this most treasured of holidays in the midst of all the bustle of festivities and concerns of this life, so I decided to focus my reading on the birth, ministry, death, and resurrection of Christ. I started out a day behind and, as a result, I ended up reading Luke 5 on December 6th, this past Friday. Now, I have read the story of Jesus telling Simon to take his boat out to the deep waters and cast his nets countless times before. It isn’t new to me. But on this particular morning, as I read Simon’s response, my breath caught and to my surprise, tears filled my eyes.

Now it happened that while the crowd was pressing around Him and listening to the word of God, He was standing by the lake of Gennesaret; and He saw two boats lying at the edge of the lake; but the fishermen had gotten out of them and were washing their nets. And He got into one of the boats, which was Simon’s, and asked him to put out a little way from the land. And He sat down and began teaching the people from the boat. When He had finished speaking, He said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.”Simon answered and said, ‘Master, we worked hard all night and caught nothing, but I will do as you say and let down the nets.’ (verses 1-5)

Wow, Simon’s words reverberated through me with considerable force. I have worked for years trying to help my son. I would take him to the doctor by myself and those appointments were battles. Very real battles. I tried taking him to the dentist and those battles were even uglier. I would drive him once a week to a dentist office 45 minutes away just to work on desensitizing him by myself. My attempts to take him places backfired. Special diets were not helpful. Special therapies did little. I rarely, if ever, saw any fruit from the labor. I grew exhausted from the continual battles and lack of help. My nets were always empty.

This grew into a discouragement in its rawest form. Trying to help a child who is not typical in any way and who was unable to respond to my efforts. Carrying the weight of those nets myself without a single soul to help. Learning to hide those failures from others because I knew they simply couldn’t relate and often would condemn. Feeling guilty that my best efforts weren’t enough. Building walls to protect us both. Feeling frightened for the days ahead.

I know a thing or two about empty nets.

But let’s look at what happened when Simon obeyed the command of Jesus, even though his own experience and earthly knowledge must have counselled him otherwise?

“When they had done this, they enclosed a great quantity of fish, and their nets began to break; so they signaled to their partners in the other boat for them to come and help them. And they came and filled both of the boats, so that they began to sink.” (verses 6-7)

All night Simon and his companions had worked casting their nets into the waters, yet not catching a single fish. They must have been weary and discouraged with their circumstances and nothing to show for their labor. But once Jesus stepped into his boat and told him try again, their nets were soon filled to the point of breaking and sinking their boats because of all of the fish! What was the difference?

Jesus was in the boat.

*
*

A few years ago, I sat in my boat and looked at my empty nets. I was at my end and uncertain how I could possibly face another day. Then Jesus stepped into my boat and told me to go out into the deep waters once more and cast my nets. I was undeniably weary from my own efforts so with broken faith, I obeyed the voice of my Savior. I cast those nets in waters that I had fished countless times before but this time, something odd began to happen. Over time, doors began to open that had been previously closed. Support arose from places that had been hidden before. My son slowly began to mature and make the kind of progress I had given up on ever seeing. While the journey was (and continues to be) still hard, it was clear that Jesus was in the boat.

As I read the interaction between Jesus and Simon in Luke 5 this time, I became overwhelmed with thankfulness. My best efforts in the past produced empty nets because even though I prayed, I usually worked in my own sufficiency, while rooted in fear. But with Jesus in the boat, I have seen full nets on many occasions. So that morning, as I read Luke 5 and contemplated the upcoming sedation dentist appointment for my son, I hoped for and anticipated the same kind of results. I was anxious to see a net full of fish.

*
*

The surgery center called a few hours later. As soon as I heard the nurse’s voice, I sensed something was wrong. It took her a moment before she could say the words … the anesthesia team had reviewed all the information regarding my son and decided they could not accommodate him at their facility. So, after months of working towards this goal and just one week away from the appointment, they cancelled his sedation surgery.

Shock is really the only word I have for what I was feeling as I listened to the nurse and then the anesthesiologist who explained their reasoning. As their words echoed through my mind, I could only think of the amount of work, time, prayer, worry to the point of sickness, and lack of sleep that have occurred over these last two months as I have worked towards this long-awaited goal. I was stunned to have it so abruptly halted without any sense of resolution. The hope I had felt for the first time was ripped from my grasp.

Heartbroken silence surrounded me as I stood at the edge of my boat, staring blankly into the depths of the waters around me, with nothing but empty nets to show. I never felt more alone.

But …

Jesus was still in the boat.

*
*

It is advent season, a time to observe and ponder the earthly arrival, ministry, and sacrifice of Jesus, the Son of the Most High. As a Christian, this is a most precious and joyous time.

In the book of Mathew, the first chapter begins with the genealogy of Jesus and then gives the account of the angel talking to Joseph in a dream as he considered what to do with Mary, his espoused wife.

“Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will give birth to a son, and you are to give him the name Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.”

All this took place to fulfill what the Lord had said through the prophet: “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Emmanuel” (which means “God with us”). Mathew 1:20-23

Emmanuel … God with us.

We often enter this blessed season with great expectations of tidy, neat gifts under the tree, happy children, cooperative and loving families, Christmas plays and cantatas, good will and kindness, and well, perfection. But what do we do when we enter this season and our realities simply do not match those expectations? What do we do when we don’t get what we wish for … or even long for?

At this point, I am unsure what to do about meeting the dental needs of my son. I have learned that people around me simply do not grasp what this journey has been like, even those in my own household, so once more, it feels a lonely and heavy weight. I threw the nets where I believed the Lord was directing me and yet, here I sit with them empty once more. In the days since the phone call, I have been praying in the quiet, letting all of this sink in, and considering the next steps, as the name, Emmanuel has been echoing through the silence …

God with us.

Friends, this is our hope always but, most especially during a Christmas season when circumstances are difficult and we are unsure what to do next. We can remember the fact that Jesus, the very Son of God, humbled Himself and came to Earth in the form of a baby. We can ponder the works He did and the words He spoke as He walked this world. We can consider the depth of His sacrifice on the cross as He suffered and died on our behalf so that we could be free from sin and death. We can rest and rejoice in the fact that He rose from the dead and now sits at the right hand of God the Father, interceding on our behalf.

Because we believe this to be true, based on the Word of God, we are never alone, no matter the circumstances, challenges, or trials we face. He is our source of comfort and strength. He will fill our empty nets in His time and in His way.

Emmanuel … God with us.

Jesus is still in the boat.

He Knows My Name

September 20, 2019September 21, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

Hagar, the slave of Sarah and the mother of Abraham’s son, Ishmael, sat alone, forgotten, and rejected in a desert place, waiting for her son and then herself to die. God heard their cries and had compassion on them. An angel appeared to her and promised that Ishmael would live and that God would make of him a great nation. Then he opened her eyes to a nearby well of water and the Bible tells us that God was with Ishmael as he grew. (Genesis 21:8-21)

She was an unwanted and rejected slave … but God knew her name.

Rahab, a prostitute who lived in Jericho hid the two Hebrew spies from certain death and then helped them escape safely. Her life and the lives of her families were saved as a result and she was included in the line of Christ. (Joshua 2:1-24)

She was a prostitute, a harlot … but God knew her name.

The poor widow was desperate as her two sons were about to be sold into slavery to cover a payment of debt. She cried out to the Prophet Elisha for help and God used him to provide miraculous means to cover those debts. (2 Kings 4:1-7)

She was a poor, indebted widow … but God knew her name.

The woman at the well, who came to draw her water alone because of the shame of her her broken life, was the reason Jesus needed to pass through Samaria. Most Jewish men would not have given her a passing glance but Jesus sought her out and as a result, many from her town believed in Christ. (John 4)

She lived a broken, promiscuous life … but God knew her name.

Because God knew each of their names, their lives were forever changed.

^“Are not five sparrows sold for two cents? Yet not one of them is forgotten before God. Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear; you are more valuable than many sparrows.”
Luke 12:6,7

He knows my name.

Such beautiful words to ponder!

He knows my name.

God, the Creator of this world and everything within it, the God of Abraham, Jacob, and Isaac, I Am …

He knows my name.

Me. The youngest of three children. The quietest and the least of these … He knows my name.

Me. The one who was not the first choice, nor the second, nor the third … but rather chosen as a last resort. Not wanted nor especially loved … He knows my name.

Me. The one who remains most often in seclusion as a caregiver, usually in the background, relatively invisible and unseen … He knows my name.

An absolute nobody from the middle of nowhere.

He knows my name.

Because of that, my life has been forever changed too.

“O Lord You have searched me and known me!”
Psalm 139:1

What a amazing God is this who looks upon the ones the world often casts aside and chooses them for His own! What a debt of gratitude I owe and how my spirit longs to live in such a way to reflect His amazing love to others.

There is no one like Him.

^“There is none like You, O Lord;
You are great, and great is Your name in might.”
Jeremiah 10:6

Be Still My Soul

September 17, 2019September 17, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

Are you facing a situation where you felt truly defeated and maybe even a bit hopeless?

Day after day … month after month … year after year …

You have prayed, wept, read and applied the truth in God’s word, dealt with your own sin and shortcomings, sought Godly counsel, and applied said counsel time and time again…

And while God has changed you in the process and the gratitude within you cannot be feigned, you find the burden of the situation continuing to bring sorrow after sorrow.

Hopelessness begins to settle over your heart like a dark cloud and the tears in your eyes like its teetering raindrops.

What hope have we as believers when the trials of life seem overwhelming? What should our response be as followers of the Christ who Himself bore sorrow after sorrow on our behalf?

*
*

I stared at the waters as I walked alongside the lake near my home. The clouds overhead were gray and dense as their rain droplets threatened to fall. To a certain degree, my thoughts were just as heavy and pensive as I pondered and prayed and yet, I couldn’t help but notice the peaceful stillness of the water beside me.

A familiar passage of Scripture stirred in my heart and I began to softly murmur the words King David penned so long ago in what we now know as Psalm 23 …

“He makes me lie down in green pastures;
He leads me beside quiet waters.
He restores my soul;
He guides me in the paths of righteousness
For His name’s sake.”

I gazed over the stillness of the lake as the words, “He leads me beside the quiet waters. He restores my soul.” echoed as a gentle and grounding reminder to look to Him for strength for each challenge,
healing for each sorrow, and rest for the weariness.

As I continued along, an old hymn rose from the memories of my past and awoke a melody in my spirit as some of the words whispered through my mind …

“Be still, my soul: the Lord is on your side;
bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;
leave to your God to order and provide;
in ev’ry change he faithful will remain.
Be still, my soul: your best, your heav’nly Friend
through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.”

Sometimes I love when the Lord does this and sometimes … I am not as pleased.

I want Him to do something. I am weary of this situation in my life and I am weary of walking through it alone. This time as I prayed, I wanted a firm reassurance that He was going to do something. I wanted a sign from heaven that my life would somehow become easier.

Instead, I heard, ‘Be still.’

I heard, ‘Bear patiently the cross of grief and pain.’

*
*

Tiny raindrops began to fall from the sky as my walk was nearing the end. Whether my face was damp from those raindrops or the ones from my eyes, I do not know.

But perhaps you will read with me another verse from this hymn and consider how these words point us to our true hope in the storms of life …

“Be still, my soul: your God will undertake
to guide the future as he has the past.
Your hope, your confidence let nothing shake;
all now mysterious shall be bright at last.
Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
his voice who ruled them while he dwelt below.”

Not much is known of the writer of this hymn, aside from her name, that she was born in 1697, and that she seemed to have lived a mostly solitary life in a religious convent. These words, her only hymn to be translated into the English language, remind us to focus our minds and hearts on the God who has proven Himself faithful in the past and who continues to guide us in all of our tomorrows. We are reminded to let nothing in this life shake our confidence, and yes, even our hope, in His love and care.

Even when we do not understand, He is good.

Be still my soul.

Sometimes we want things we were not meant to have.
Because He loves us, the Father says no.
Faith is willing not to have what God is not willing to give.
Furthermore, faith does not insist upon an explanation.
It is enough to know His promises to give what is good –
He knows so much more about us than we do.
~Elisabeth Elliott~

*Be Still my Soul ~ written by Kathrina von Schlegel (hymnary.org)

Tracing His Rainbow Through the Rain

August 18, 2019August 18, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

I entered my morning of meetings somewhat cautiously, nervous about the things we would be discussing and unsure of what lies ahead for my son.

My oldest child is severely impacted with autism and he attends a private autism school almost an hour from our home. On this particular morning, I had many questions as his teachers and I discussed the progress of this past year and the changes in store for the year(s) ahead.

My son is 18 years old and typically young people this age would have graduated high school earlier this year and would be getting ready for college, trade school, or the workforce. But given the extent of his autism and the depth of his needs, my son will continue in his present school setting until the age of 21.

I would be lying if I told you I was completely okay with this.

I would be lying if I told you that watching his neuro-typical peers graduate high school, have beautiful senior pictures taken, attend prom, and be recognized for their achievements didn’t stir any sadness at all in me.

I would also be lying if I said I was completely unfazed by the ones presently heading off to college and new adventures.

I have been troubled, but I have hidden it. I wouldn’t even allow myself to think about it over these last months. I told myself it was just one more milestone that is triggering a sense of grief but, because I felt guilty for the sadness and didn’t want to invite any pity, I blocked it.

Yet, on this day, as families around us were taking their children for their first year of college, I was sitting in meetings discussing medication, significant behavioral issues, basic first grade math and reading skills, another year of school, and a very uncertain (i.e. frightening/unknown) future for my eighteen year old … and I was torn.

I felt torn as my deeply hidden grief wrestled with my desire to live thankfully. My son has been in this wonderful school for only a few years but the growth has been significant. I know that many who are as severely affected as he, do not have this kind of support/instruction and I remember well how God had led us to this point.

I have much for which to be thankful.

*
*

Yet, as I listened to the teachers explain about his new classroom and the new program he would be entering with the start of the school year, I felt a sense of anxiousness. He is entering a special program that his school has developed to help prepare their students for life after school. It will be a big step and will bring a lot of changes and new challenges.

I learned that part of the program includes work-based learning and specialized staff will find various volunteer work for him to do so they can expose him to a variety of skills and learn what kind of work he will enjoy the most.

I also learned that we have other new members on his team including a career developer and a career specialist. These two will be focused completely on learning all about my son, working with area businesses, and developing a ‘career’ especially designed for him with special considerations for his abilities and needs. The hope is that, once he does graduate at 21, he will already be settled in a suitable job situation.

As all of this new information swept through my mind, I had a moment where the Lord spoke quietly into my thoughts. He knows every step of the journey leading up to this moment, He knows every drop of sadness I have been hiding, and He knows the fears I have for the future … and as I considered all these things and more, I found myself saying out loud, “Tyler gets his adventure too.”

His peers are heading off to college or entering the military or workforce. Their years of schooling have prepared them for their next step in life. These last few years have also prepared my son for his next step in life and while it may look different from the typical young adult, it is still new … a step forward.

Yes, it requires an entire team of school staff, specialists, anxiety medication, behavioral therapy, speech therapy, occupational therapy, and considerable time, work, patience, and perseverance … but God has been preparing us for this season of life as well.

*
*

That evening, as I pondered the years a whole and reflected on the information shared in the meetings, these words came to mind ~ ‘Trace the Rainbow Through the Rain’ ~ It almost seemed a command from the Lord so I began to pray as I sang this verse of the song, ‘O Love that will not let me go’

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

This is the verse that always brings a mist to my eyes when we sing it in our church service. These are the words that best describe my personal journey through, not only loving and raising a child with autism, but so many other challenges as well.

And these were the words the Lord brought to mind in this moment.

I began to ponder the years past and considered all that God had done in the midst of some incredibly difficult seasons. I considered the present and the very real hard situations that continue to be a part of every day life and even though there are hardships that must be faced daily, the presence of God has been and continues to be unmistakable.

I have learned that grief and peace can travel hand in hand when one walks with God.

I have learned that He is there even when He seems silent.

I have learned that He is working even when all seems lost.

I have also learned that life doesn’t always go the way we would like.

I traced His rainbow through the rain and lifted my eyes once more to the One who holds my life in His hands … and I know His promises remain true on both the stormy days and the ones filled with sunshine.

*
*

I don’t know what difficult situation you might be facing or what may lay hidden in your past, but I can well imagine. Maybe there are significant dysfunctional family issues. Maybe a family member who is living with addiction and continually making choices that destroy their lives and hurt their loved ones. Maybe there is a long-term harmful cycling of behavior in a broken marriage. Maybe it is a personal issue of sin that you just can’t seem to conquer. Maybe a heart-breaking diagnosis and the loss of one you hold dear. Maybe it is a combination of many of these things, as is true for me, or maybe something so much harder.

If you are a follower of Christ, then I invite you to also take some time and trace His rainbow through the rains of your own life.

It is a worthwhile exercise and it serves as a reminder to be thankful for His past mercies and to trust Him for every tomorrow.

~”O Love that will not let me go” written by George Matheson~

A Single Thread in the Greatest Tapestry of All

July 25, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / 3 Comments

As a young girl, I loved to do embroidery and cross-stitch. There was something exhilarating about creating a design from thin pieces of string, a needle, and material. To this day, though I rarely do any sort of crafting myself, I find myself drawn to the beauty of art created by thread. The details a true artist can make come alive and the stories that can be told through this exquisite art form are mesmerizing.

Now, here is something I’ve been thinking on lately … when I look upon a tapestry and observe the picture or story being presented, I always notice the use of color and I usually notice the various stitching utilized. But I never pay particular attention to any one thread or string used. The story and the beauty of the piece will cause me to search for details about the creator and ponder the skill they possess. But never do I ponder or seek information about one particular piece of thread that is used in the overall design.

I have yet to point to an individual thread and say, “Wow! That piece of thread is amazing! Look how it sewed itself into the material!”

No, I will look at the tapestry and say, “The creator of this piece must possess exceptional skill to create such beauty with simple pieces of thread.”

I believe I can say with confidence that neither does a single thread draw attention to itself nor claim the glory for the masterpiece.

The creator receives the glory … not the thread.

Without the artist, the thread can do nothing.

Photo by Fancycrave.com on Pexels.com

When my first born began to exhibit significant developmental delays many years ago and received the diagnosis of autism, I prayed constantly for his healing. I sang praise songs, I spoke verses over him, and I was convinced that I knew the will of God for him. We certainly were not to be ‘held back’ with the diagnosis of severe autism and I could not see how anything less than a full healing could possibly be the will of God.

Over the years, the severity of his autism continued to grow and significantly impact not only his life, but my own and the rest of our family. Despite all I tried to do to ‘fix’ his symptoms, little progress was made and the journey grew incredibly hard and isolating. Family and friends could not relate or understand this reality and I began to hide as I grew discouraged and overwhelmed with a sense of failure.

“Did I not have enough faith?”
“Did I not do enough?”
“Is the severity and impact of my son’s diagnosis all my fault?”

I truly believed it was.

It was when I reached the very end of trying to weave my own version of our story that the Lord picked up the threads.

“My life is but a weaving between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors, He weaveth constantly.

‘Oft times He weaveth sorrow; And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper, and I the under side.”

The journey since then has been considerably different. The Lord has often done what I could not. He has opened doors that were formerly closed, however, He has also allowed others to remain closed. My son is not ‘healed’ of autism and yet, he has grown. The Lord has walked me personally through many steps of spiritual maturity and growth and, as a result, He has allowed me the privilege to teach those same lessons to my children. Not because He cured my son of autism … but because He is working through my son and his autism. The difficulties, the hard parts, the dependence on One greater than ourselves … these are the very things that cause us to grow, to change, to look continually towards the Savior.

Often, given the nature of my life and the lack of impact I feel I have in my church and community, I feel insignificant. I feel like I haven’t done enough … or that I am not good enough. I believe the story and testimony of another must be of more value than my own.

However, I’ve come to view life as a series of threads that God is weaving into a masterpiece tapestry that He has been crafting since Genesis 1:1. The thread of one is not greater or of more value than another. Rather, each become intricately linked together as the Father weaves a story that, for now, we can only partially see.

Remembering that the one to receives the glory is not the single thread, but the Creator of the tapestry.

For the thread, without Him, can do nothing.

Not ’til the loom is silent and the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas and reveal the reasons why

The dark threads are as needful in the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver in the pattern He has planned.

My son woke early one morning this week, upset and out of sorts. I startled awake and quickly clambered out of bed, wrenching the very knee I just had surgery on. I limped about, feeling a bit discouraged as I pondered the reality of this life. But as I helped my son get ready for his day, I began singing softly to myself, without much thought of the song that left my lips.

There is power in the name of Jesus
There is power in the name of Jesus
There is power in the name of Jesus

To break every chain
Break every chain
Break every chain

Suddenly my son locked his eyes on mine and my mostly non-verbal son said one word… ‘Swing.’

Everything stopped in that moment as the significance of that one word rolled over me.

One year ago I sat outside on our porch swing with my son as we waited for electricity to be restored after a storm. I remember it was such a difficult time as I sang those very words to my son just before the Lord led me to present the gospel and his need of a Savior.

One year ago, I sat on the swing and led my son to Jesus.

The memory of that unbelievable moment still fills me with wonder because at one time, it seemed an impossibility.

As I recollected this, our eyes remained locked together as I said, “Yes, you remember that I sang that song to you as we sat on the swing and that was when you asked Jesus into your heart. You remember that?”

His eyes remained on mine … and he smiled.

He knows, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.

He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.
(The Tapestry Poem by Corrie ten Boom)

You know, I don’t know how different our lives might be had God answered my prayers the way I wanted Him to many years ago. But this journey has taught me that my story is not mine alone. The thread of my life is not mine alone to determine the course. When left in the hand of the Father, the thread learns to actively follow where it is led and in His hands, I have found, is no better place to be.

Some day, we will get to hear the story in its entirety and see the tapestry complete … and then we’ll understand.

For now, I am content to trust Him and follow where He leads.

A single thread in the greatest tapestry of all.

Photo by Fancycrave.com on Pexels.com

Thoughts From My Flower Beds

July 15, 2019July 15, 2019 / walkingthisjourneysite / Leave a comment

In the silence of the early morning hours, I slipped outside with a mug of hot coffee in one hand and my gardening gloves in the other. With a sense of purpose to my steps, I made my way down to the bank in front of my home and beside the road. It was this bank that sat neglected for years until I decided to tackle it this past spring. I wrote a little about that process here -> Where Beauty Dwells

When I finished that job a couple of months ago, it was the neatest it had ever been. The weeds were gone, flowers were added, and all of it was carefully covered in mulch. The difference was amazing and I was quite pleased with the result of my labors and soon moved on to other projects and life responsibilities.

In the first few weeks after the completion of the job, I would take a few minutes here and there to stop by and pull little weeds as they popped up. But then life got a bit crazier and you know, I didn’t give that bank much thought. The project was done and I had other things to do … surely all the work I had put into it was enough.

Now in the morning’s quiet, I figured I could get the bank cleared out again in no time.

Oh, but those weeds that I had worked so hard to eradicate had taken over once more …

Vines spreading all over, poison ivy everywhere I looked, and my sweet flowers all but choked out.

It did not matter how much work I had put into that bank just a couple of months ago. It did not matter how well-cared for it had been or how lovely it had been with the addition of colorful flowers. Just a brief time of neglect was all that was needed to revert back to its old ways.

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*
*

Every time I pull weeds, I am reminded of my own sin nature.

Sin is just as pervasive and resilient as the weeds in my flower beds.

We go to church and we dedicate our lives to God. We confess every sin we can think of and we walk away feeling so much cleaner … so much nicer.

We work through a Bible study and as the Holy Spirit reveals hidden parts of our nature, we pledge to eradicate them from our lives. We are refreshed and renewed.

We attend a conference or a weekend retreat. We feel challenged and encouraged and convinced we’ve got this Christian life figured out.

Then we get caught up in our crazy lives and we have the best of intentions to read our Bibles every day and talk to the Lord every day … and we really do intend to keep an eye out for those weeds of sin that we ripped from our lives.

But what happens?

One day we notice something … our hearts are overcome with sin once more and the loveliness of Christ is being choked out.

Just a bit of neglect allows our hearts to revert to its old ways.

I find this the most disheartening thing.

*
*
*

As I worked on the bank and pulled at the weeds, I became aware of the amount of poison ivy that had become very pervasive. I realized that I was not dressed appropriately to battle poison ivy and if I continued, I would soon be covered by a terrible rash.

I admit, I was briefly tempted to take my chances and just continue with the fight but my extensive history with this notorious plant cautioned me that this would be a grave mistake. One that I would deeply regret.

So I returned to the house and dressed until I was completely covered. Then I pulled on two sets of gloves before returning to the battle. Appropriately armed for the fight gave me an advantage to fight aggressively against my foe. I knew if I was well-protected, the harmful effects of the poison would not cause me great harm. I could easily still be touched by the poison as it has gone through clothing before, but I knew if I was properly protected, the effects would be minimal.

So with sin I must be properly prepared and armed for my battles against it.

Ephesians 6 reminds us that we must be strong in the battle against sin and to do so, we must be fully dressed in the armor of Christ…

“Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.

And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the Lord’s people.”
Ephesians 6:10-18

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*
*

As I pulled the weeds in my bank along the road, I noticed that some had very shallow roots and they came out quite easily. Others were deeply entrenched and took a lot of muscle power to pull. Still others were connected by intricate and strong vine systems that made it almost impossible to remove.

I found this so convicting.

As I pulled each weed, I asked the Lord to show me those kinds of sins in my life. The superficial shallow ones that can be addressed fairly easily. The ones that have grown so deeply into my nature and personality that it requires diligent muscle power to pull. And the ones that are connected deep below the surface … these are the ones that spread and take over, often without me realizing it.

I am convinced the Lord loves these kinds of prayers because the Holy Spirit has been working overtime on this heart of mine! And, as always, it is a pretty rough process.

On a side note, I am also convinced that if we talk to the Lord (or other people) more about the sins and faults of another than talking to Him about our own sins … something is wrong. We have to honestly deal with the big ol’ log in our own eye first.

So the Lord has been graciously shedding His light on the weeds that I have allowed to take root and grow. Deep, entangling vine-like sins such as bitterness and resentfulness. I have had to confess these over and over the last few weeks as I have been walking through some deep trenches with my family. My personal poison ivy is probably the sin of envy and no other season brings that out in me like summer time when I see what typical families get to do together. It is a deeply rooted sin that continually needs addressed.

But what about the more shallow sins that most of us might not recognize to be sin? Well, if the Lord convicts us about it, it becomes sin. For me, I have noticed my old use of sarcasm coming alive again. Is sarcasm sinful? Maybe not for you but in many situations, the Lord challenges me and convicts me every time it slips out. I have become more and more aware that the Lord wants my words to be careful and sure … guarded, if you will. Carefully seasoned with truth and gracious. The Bible is full of verses that caution the use of our tongue and for me, I feel a strong conviction to guard my words carefully. But oh so often, those words slip out and the Spirit sends a sharp word of rebuke as He yanks that weed of sin out.

Sigh … you know, it is never ending work to keep those weeds out of my flower beds. I have resigned myself that is part of living in a broken world.

It is also a never ending task to keep sin out of my life. It requires constant vigilance and even more humility. It is never easy to submit to the Lord and watch as He allows me to sin so I can recognize my own human frailty and absolute dependence on Him.

After all, He died so that I might be free from sin … how wonderful is it that I can be dependent on Him?

There is great satisfaction as I look over my flower beds and see the beauty of my labors. I am always glad I have done the work and removed the weeds. Even if I know I will have to do it over and over again.

Can I submit to you that there is an even greater satisfaction and peace when the Lord removes sin from the flower bed that is my heart and mind? It is never easy nor is it ever fun … but the end result is worth the cost.

Just some thoughts from my flower beds.

The Brown Bird's Song

Abiding Acres Farm

Joy

Some Golden Daybreak – for me, for you

More

My Christmas Testimony

My Favorite Christmas

Jesus is Still in the Boat

He Knows My Name

Be Still My Soul

Tracing His Rainbow Through the Rain

A Single Thread in the Greatest Tapestry of All

Thoughts From My Flower Beds