Word of God

The Perfect Storm ~ A Perfect Savior

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

Her weary, red eyes were dull as she shielded her face from the sun’s harsh rays, flinching in pain as another piece of driftwood crashed into her. It was bad enough that her boat had capsized in the waves caused by the great storm, but now she floated helplessly as the restless water continued to toss the splintered pieces haphazardly about, mindless of her plight. She had lost track of how long she had been drifting along, sometimes trying to swim, but mostly just grasping at pieces of her old boat as they drifted by and clinging tightly, it hopes one would carry her to shore.

She no longer cared upon what shore she landed for she was despairingly desperate to feel solid ground beneath her feet once more. The dreams she cherished when she first set sail, the plans she painstakingly mulled over as she planned her trip, and the boat she had meticulously crafted herself all had descended to the deep, destroyed and swept away by what only could be described as a perfect storm. A storm so unexpected and intense that she never could have planned for it.

She was not even sure how she survived.

But here she was, clinging to a splintered piece of driftwood as she drifted along in the current, alone and afraid, searching for land but seeing none. Her will to fight was fading fast, her desire to live seemed to be sinking with the setting sun. Hopelessness encircled her, ever-threatening like the fearsome sharks that lurked nearby. Her grip on the driftwood was slipping as her eyes slowly blinked once — then twice — and then remaining closed as she let go, her body sinking silently into the depths.

It seemed the storm had won and the deep waters were eager to claim their prize as darkness began to engulf her lifeless body as she sank lower still. But suddenly a brilliant flash of light tore through the waters, enlightening the blackness as a strong hand reached down and grasped her limp one, quickly lifting her from the depths, bringing her into the light once more. She gasped as new life was breathed into her lungs and slowly opened her eyes to see the eyes of her savior.

In my most recent posts, I have alluded to what I perceived as unanswered prayers from the past, as well as, my concerns for the future, specifically as it pertains to my son who has autism. You can catch up with those posts here, Taking the Next Step and Thoughts on my Son’s Birthday – How Deep the Father’s Love.

For this post, I intended to delve deeper into those prayers of the past and how the Lord is changing my understanding of prayer and teaching me to fully trust Him in all matters of life. That is what I started to write but, as I sat in a quiet place and pondered the past, old memories rose to the surface, details that had been lost in the stress of the season, seemingly irrelevant at the time. I wrote down a timeline and then began putting some of the old shattered pieces together and soon, I saw a picture I had not seen before. It was a picture of the final blow that sent me floundering for years, destroying the boat I had built to reach the land of my dreams, and leaving me adrift in the ocean’s current.

It was the picture of a storm — a perfect storm.

If I were to develop the above story a bit more, I think it would illuminate the life of a woman determined to reach a desired land, desperate for the safety she was certain it held. I would have to ponder it a bit more but I believe if we picked up her story at the beginning and followed it through, we would have seen how she built her little boat on her own and placed all her earthly possessions inside, believing she had no other choice; Not seeking guidance, but rather, relying on her own understanding and instinct while being driven by fear.

We all have a story and sometimes I tell portions of mine not because I am particularly comfortable opening the doors of my past but because stories have a way of illustrating the way God works in the life of a believer — even when she thinks He is nowhere around.

Just over 15 years ago, I stood in my little log cabin with my three young children — a four year old son with autism, an almost two year old son, and an infant daughter. This was the day the storm sent the wave that finally crashed the little boat I had built myself and repaired time and time again. This day is forever lodged in my memory as the day I shattered as my boat, or the very foundation of my life, finally fell apart.

I know the years that led up to this cataclysmic moment and I’ve always known it was more involved than PPD (Post-Partum Depression), but there was one detail I had forgotten — one event that I’ve talked about before but I never pieced together with this season of life.

2005 ~ I was expecting my third baby, just 20 months after my second one. The needs of my firstborn son with autism had escalated to their highest point and this was the season where he rarely slept. I usually dozed on the floor of the tv room while he watched Thomas the Tank Engine or Veggies Tales all night long. Days were spent keeping after my toddler, who was a challenge, and running my older son to therapies, appointments, or preschool. This was also the season where I began to understand the realities of my marriage and the utter helplessness I felt in it. The way my mind worked during this pregnancy began to change and I shifted to a life lived in overdrive, always striving towards something.

I was intent on reaching a land of stability and love. A world where things felt normal and secure. Years before I had built my little boat and in it I had set sail, certain I would reach my dream. But, by the time my third baby was due, my ship was battered by the harsh storms that had already hit it. There were leaks and missing pieces but I drove myself and my ship hard, determined to reach that distant shore. The harder the storms hit, the harder I pushed.

The night I gave birth to my daughter, my third little love, I had already been awake for over 24 hours. My son had not slept the night before and I had been pushed hard all day to keep up with him. When it was time to bring my sweet daughter into the world, I did not have any strength left and my body began to fail. It was the frantic yelling of my midwife that kept me awake long enough to finally birth my little girl. The only thing I remember in the moments after was the now quiet voice of the midwife telling me she was so sorry she had to yell at me and then softly telling the others to let me rest — I was too exhausted to remember anything else.

Despite this, I made sure I was discharged from the hospital 23 hours later because I was needed at home. Once there, I promptly drove myself to the store because we needed groceries and I knew I would be completely on my own the next day. I never stopped moving. I never stopped trying to fix my little boat. I never stopped watching for the destination I was so desperate to reach.

This much I remembered and this is what I thought led to an emotional crash later that year that was so devastating but, as I reflected this week, I remembered what else happened that year — that was the summer I took my oldest son to see the Developmental Pediatrician, the one who officially diagnosed him with autism. I remember I left my toddler with my parents but I had my infant daughter with me when we entered the doors of that office. This was the appointment where I was told my 4 1/2 year old son had severe autism and would likely never talk and would never be independent. There was no kindness or compassion but rather, a harsh telling of facts.

I don’t remember anything after that until one particular spot on the way home — a stop light at the top of a hill just a few miles from the hospital. It was there darkness overwhelmed me, completely obscuring the far shores of the land I hope to reach one day. It was then I lost hope.

On the outside, all continued as normal. I still ran my oldest to various therapies with two little ones in tow. I still cared for my home, ran a small business, and did as many of the ‘Mom things’ I could. I still drove myself with an intensity that sometimes amazed others. I still never slept and dealt with countless autistic meltdowns. But on the inside, I had detached. I had lost the hope of reaching dry land. My boat was listing badly and taking on water but I no longer had the means to repair or cover the holes.

It was the perfect storm and those waves that started after my son’s appointment stirred up more waves that dredged up hidden memories of the past. All of them combined continued to pummel me for days, weeks, and even months. These waves hit under the shadow of that darkness, telling me that God obviously did not care about me or my prayers. The lightening strikes that accompanied the storm hit me with the harsh words that He had left me alone in this fiercest of storms. It was in that storm I began to repeat to myself the words I heard in the darkness that I was truly alone and God was not there.

The final wave hit that day as I stood in my little log cabin with three little loves all around me. My boat shattered beneath the force of those waves and I was tossed into the depths of the sea, grasping for anything to hold onto, constantly pummeled by the debris around me.

I floated helplessly along, carried by the currents, subjected to the fiercest of elements.

I would have told you all was lost.

I would have told you there was no hope.

I believed this completely for there seemed to be no other explanation for the storms in my life.

Yes, I believed there was a God and that He was holy and good —

I just stopped believing that He loved me.

My eyes were dull and blood-shot with exhaustion as I cast one last glance towards the land of my dreams and then they slowly began to blink, once — twice — and then remaining closed as my hands slipped from the wood to which I had been clinging. The darkness cheered as I began to slip into the depths of the water that were so anxious to claim me as their prize. But the darkness had not reckoned with the Light that broke through those depths, nor the Hand that reached down to grasp mine. The darkness had forgotten that it was trying to claim a life that belonged to another — One who never lets go of His own.

It was a perfect storm most certainly —

But it was no match for a perfect Savior.

I share these words cautiously, as they represent difficult memories I prefer to hide. Memories that have long been shrouded with a sense of shame and failure. But now looking back, I no longer see it exclusively as a devastatingly hard season but rather, I understand it as when God stepped in to rescue me. As I study and learn more of His sovereignty, I realize that the One who created the water and could calm a storm by simply speaking, is the same One who brought the waves that destroyed that boat of my own making. As long as I was self-sufficient and depending on myself, I did not need my Savior. As long as I worked to build my own identity, I could not find it in Him. As long as I believed He did not love me, I lied to myself and mispresented the truth of Him to others — especially my children.

That day now represents to me the turning point of my life. The beginning of a new journey — at times, an even harder journey than before for the way of the cross is a life of sacrifice and dying to one self.

Then Jesus said to His disciples, “If anyone wishes to come after Me,
he must deny himself, and take up his cross and follow Me.
Matthew 16:33

I am not sure entirely how to close this post. It has taken a few days to process and write these words and I planned this morning to pen an ending that would offer encouragement and hope to a reader who might be in a season of life when the storms are heavy-hitting. But my autistic son must have decided I needed a refresher in sleep deprivation so he has kept me awake since midnight — just like old times. As a result, my brain is a bit muddled this morning and I simply cannot find the words to express the point I long to make. So, I am going to close this instead with a passage from the Bible that I held onto through some of my hardest years — a passage that offered hope when I thought there was none.

I waited patiently for the Lord;
And He inclined to me and heard my cry.
 He brought me up out of the pit of destruction, out of the miry clay,
And He set my feet upon a rock making my footsteps firm.
He put a new song in my mouth, a song of praise to our God;
Many will see and fear and will trust in the Lord.
Psalm 40:1-3

There will be storms, fierce storms in this life —

But they are no match for A Perfect Savior.

~But As For Me ~

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But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord;
I will wait for the God of my salvation.
My God will hear me.
Micah 7:7

I have been silent here and the silence has been intentional — purposeful. The weeks leading up to Christmas and the end of 2020 were challenging and heavy, not only due to all the stress of the past year and the very different holiday season, but more so because of a dental surgery scheduled for my adult son with autism just a few days after Christmas.

Because of a heavy burden I have long been carrying and the realities that few knew, I entered a season of quiet prayer and waiting. I shared songs and thoughts on social media but I did not share what was driving those meditations and ponderings. I did not share the fear, anxiety, and memories of the past that were hounding me day and night. Truth be told, I needed to see God work. In this past year of one hard thing after another, I needed to see God and Him alone.

My soul, wait in silence for God only,
For my hope is from Him.
Psalm 62:5

As the weight pressed in, I understood anew how little control I actually have. Matters of life that I have fought so hard to figure out and fix were simply not mine to control. The safety that I struggled to have so I could feel secure was not mine to create. As blow after blow continued to fall and worry began to consume me, I realized there was really only one option left to me ~

Worship.

To worship simply means to express reverence and adoration towards God. To worship God is to ascribe to Him what is true and rightfully His. For years I did not quite understand how I could do that while the sense of fear troubled me so or as tears filled my eyes. I thought that to worship God meant I had to defeat fear and sin first. I thought worship meant I had to always be joyful and radiant.

I’ve come to understand differently.

When the news came to Job that all of his children had been killed and everything he owned was destroyed, his initial response was not a surprise. He tore his clothes, shaved his head, and fell to the ground in grief. But there is a second part to this that I missed before ~ in that place of intense grief and sorrow, Job worshiped.

Then Job arose and tore his robe and shaved his head, and he fell to the ground and worshiped. He said,

“Naked I came from my mother’s womb,
And naked I shall return there.
The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away.
Blessed be the name of the Lord.”

Through all this Job did not sin nor did he blame God.
Job 1:20-22

Job, in the midst of great sorrow and loss, did the only thing he could ~ he showed reverence and adoration towards God. He ascribed to God what he knew to be true. We can read the beginning verses of chapter one and discover why God allowed such great trouble to touch his life, but Job did not have that knowledge. He did not know the why ~ but he knew Who was in charge.

So he worshiped.

Through Job’s example, I have learned that lifting our hearts and minds in worship, in the midst of difficulty, aligns our soul with the proper perspective that God is in control. It does not mean I will not feel sorrow or grief. It simply means I can ascribe what is true of God while grieving. It does not mean I will not be impacted by the stress and cares of this world. It simply means I can be reverent as I carry my cross. It does not mean I will not cry. It simply means I can lift my eyes in worship, even as they fill with tears. Worshipping God is not about waiting until everything is okay and life feels momentarily safe, but rather, it is about trusting God and praising Him even as the storm clouds gather.

As I considered the story of Job, I realized my only option was to lift my weary soul and tear-filled eyes to the heavens and worship that very same God — the One who is still in charge.

So I worshiped.

Do not rejoice over me, O my enemy.
Though I fall I will rise;
Though I dwell in darkness, the Lord is a light for me.
Micah 7:8

On Sunday, the day before my son’s surgery, I grew overwhelmed. After this past year of crisis after crisis with no breaks or rest in between, I was depleted and exhausted. I felt alone and not the least bit capable of the demands required for an undertaking such as this. No one really understood the history of my son and dentists. Not many knew of the trauma his first dentist caused to both my son and I. Few knew of the harsh words of blame thrown at me that I have carried all these years. Few knew how I tried to find a dentist willing to work with my son or one who would attempt sedation to limit further trauma. Few knew how many times we were turned away. Few knew the weekly drives to a distant dentist office trying to acclimate my son to the environment, to desensitize him to the very place he knew great fear. No one knew of the sleepless nights as I tried to figure out what to do. It has been a lonely battle. In December of 2019, it seemed we were finally going to have help we needed, but, just one week away from a dental sedation appointment with a new dentist at an out-patient surgery center, the anesthesiology team cancelled it. They deemed my son too uncooperative to be seen in their facility. I was heart-broken.

Then 2020 hit with all its nastiness ~ emotional breakdowns, pandemic, shut downs, extended school closures, heart surgery, illness, and hospital stays with my Dad, and so much more. It has been a very hard year.

Near the beginning of December 2020, the Lord reopened a dentistry door and after one email from me to last year’s dental office, He began to move mountains. I learned that the dental office now had hospital privileges and were more than willing to try helping my son again in that setting. I learned that where there had been no openings for almost two months, a surgery slot suddenly became available. In a short period of time, every little detail fell into place with very minimal effort on my part for my son to finally receive the dental help he needed in the environment that was necessary. It was amazing to watch God work.

But I was afraid. Not of the sedation nor the care he would be receive, but I was afraid of my son’s response. I knew it would be hard and I knew it would potentially be ugly. I knew he would fight and I was afraid that his response would hinder him from receiving care as it always has in the past … and if I am honest, I was also afraid more harsh words of guilt would be heaped on my shoulders.

I did what I could do to prepare my son but I knew the one thing I could not control was his response. I could not control his fear or the ensuing behaviors that were sure to follow. This opened the door to worry, which I knew would not help the situation at all.

What I could do instead, however, was worship.

So as fear wrapped its fingers around my throat until I could barely catch my breath, I worshiped. When memories threatened to lash at me once more, I worshiped. Over and over, I entrusted my son and the days ahead to God and I worshiped Him, even as my body trembled at the thought of what was to come.

Full disclosure ~ while certain aspects of his surgery day went surprisingly well, the hours before my son was fully sedated were ugly and difficult. They were every bit as bad as I feared they would be. I feared the anesthesiologist would cancel the procedure because we struggled to get my son safely sedated but he looked me in the eye and told me not to worry. “We’re fine. We’ll get through this and we’ll get him there.”

And we did. The stories I could tell from that day would fill a book. It was hard and at times, quite ugly, but God was there. Every moment of that day is etched on my mind, not only because of the difficulty, but more so because of the love and care that was poured over my son and his weary mother as well.

In a place of impossibility, God made it possible. In a season of despair and weariness, God brought hope and strength. In a situation that was filled with darkness and fear, God brought light and peace.

He will bring me out to the light,
And I will see His righteousness.
Micah 7:9

In the quiet hours of the following morning, as I reflected over the events of the day before, this song of worship filled my soul:

“And I stand, I stand in awe of You
I stand, I stand in awe of You
Holy God to whom all praise is due
I stand in awe of You.”

I can only stand in awe of what God has done.

So my friends, I leave you with this final word as I close the year 2020 ~ As I have pondered the personal hardships I have walked through in this past year, the intense spiritual journey, the desperate loneliness, the hidden sorrows, and ultimately, the great care of a sovereign and holy God, I am left with only one thought to carry me into a new year that will surely be filled with its own uncertainties and trouble ~

But as for me, I will watch expectantly for the Lord ~ and I will worship.

*“I stand in awe” ~ Written by Mark Altrogge

*“Ascribe Greatness to our God” ~ Written by Don Meon

Why Do I Read the Bible?

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With a focus on approaching this post, I shared two parts previously – if you have not read them, you can find them here -> Come and Dine and The Redeemed Journey.  

**I actually wrote this a few weeks ago but did not have it quite ready to share before a crisis rocked my world.  I am now rewriting portions and finishing it to share, while standing more firmly on the necessity of spending time in and knowing God’s Word.**

 

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart
Be acceptable in Your sight,
O Lord, my rock and my Redeemer.
Psalm 19:14

 

Why do I read God’s Word?

A number of years ago, I was often tossed about with the storms of life.  My sense of identity was lacking in every way and as I dug deeper in my relationship with the Lord, I began to understand that I had a mostly distorted view of Him and this distorted view was impacting every facet of my life.

The obvious response to this awareness was to open the Bible at the very beginning and start reading.  As I read, I asked the Lord to enlighten the eyes of my heart and help me to know Him better through His Word … and He was faithful to do so.

 “I pray that the eyes of your heart may be enlightened, so that you will know what is the hope of His calling, what are the riches of the glory of His inheritance in the saints, and what is the surpassing greatness of His power toward us who believe. These are in accordance with the working of the strength of His might…”
Ephesians 1:18-19

I began to realize how often we try to define God by our own belief system.  We think a certain way, so therefore, that is how we view God.  We attempt to keep Him in a box based on our own limited understanding.  We want Him to revolve around us and are often prone to elevating ourselves into a position that belongs to Him alone.

The deeper I dug into the Scriptures and the more I read with a heart seeking instruction and understanding, the more in awe I grew of this Holy God.

Wow.  

I was that stunned with the glory and magnificence of the One who proclaimed, ‘I am Who I am’ to Moses. (Exodus 3:14)

 The more I read, the more reverent my behavior and attitude grew towards Him.  The more I read, the less I wanted to argue with Him.  The more I read, the more I was okay with what I didn’t know or couldn’t understand.  The more I read, the more I learned to trust Him in all things.  The more I read, the more I wanted to know … Him.

Even now, as I try to write this words, my soul is thrilled beyond description at the focused reminder of Who God says He is, while I am disheartened by my own inability to translate that into words.

God is that glorious.

Listen, there are going to be an abundance of times when life is not going to make any sense and we may often find ourselves tossed to and fro’ by the storms of this life and/or our own sinful natures.  If I am asked, my response is going to be, read God’s Word.  Don’t read looking for easy answers … don’t read looking for something to make you feel better about yourself … don’t read looking for something to attack another person with … open the Bible with a heart seeking after God.

“Hear, O Lord, when I cry with my voice, and be gracious to me. 
When You said, “Seek My face,” my heart said to You,
“Your face, O Lord, I shall seek.”
Psalm 27:7-8

I read the Bible because I want to know Him.

Why do I read the Word of God?

An interesting thing began to happen as I spent more and more time reading and meditating on the Word.  I began to recognize the voice of my Shepherd.

“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me…”
John 10:27

There are so many ‘voices’ in this world telling us what is right and wrong, telling us what to think, and surrounding us with their earthly ‘wisdom’.  I admit I was a fairly naive and gullible person for most of my life.  I believed the best of people and simply could not comprehend evil.  I listened to all sorts of voices and by the time I became a more seasoned mother, I realized I was not very wise when it came to discerning the truth.

So for a time, I set aside every book on my bookshelf and I began to only read the Bible, simply because I did not want to hear the voice of man … I wanted to hear what God said Himself.

Oh God, how I long to know You!

During this season, which lasted several years, I was often in the church building but rarely receiving any teaching.  I cared for my children, I cared for my son with autism, I had little to no fellowship, and conversation was limited to occasional times of counsel.

People virtually had no input into my life so I read God’s Word … I prayed constantly … and I listened.

I learned to recognize the voice of my Shepherd.

What a beautiful voice it is.

I read my Bible because I always want His voice to be preeminent above all.

Why do I read my Bible? 

Our human nature and instinct are strong and often become our guiding force as we live our lives.  We are geared towards self-preservation at all costs.  We believe our hearts are good and we make decisions grounded in this belief system.

However, the Bible tells us otherwise.

“The heart is more deceitful than all else and is desperately sick;
Who can understand it?”
Jeremiah 17:9

I know from experience that left to myself, I will always make decisions based on my own desires, wants, and comforts … usually at the expense of those around me and even to my own detriment. Current culture tells us this is the way we should live; In fact, much of current ‘Christian’ culture proclaims this as truth.  Do whatever makes you happy.

As I grew in understanding of who God says He is and as I grew to recognize the voice of my Shepherd, I became increasingly aware of my own deceitful, selfish heart.  I realized that the way I was living and the choices I was making in response to life’s challenges, were rooted in pure selfishness.  So with the Lord’s help, I drew a line in the sand and began making a series of decisions, against my instincts and earthly wisdom, and I chose to follow the example of Jesus Christ.

Then Jesus said to His disciples,
“If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself,
and take up his cross and follow Me.
Matthew 16:24

“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 11:29-30

Each moment that I looked to Christ as my example on how to deny myself and live sacrificially for Him, I was reminded over and over of the words of our brother Paul …

“I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live,
but Christ lives in me; and the life which I now live in the flesh
I live by faith in the Son of God,
who loved me and gave Himself up for me.”
Galatians 2:20

 

I read the Bible so that I may learn how to live, no longer controlled by my nature and instincts, but rather by the example of the cross … a life lived sacrificially and purposefully for His glory.

 

Why do I read the Bible?

The way we live, the words we say, the example we set, do not go unnoticed by others.

I used to believe I was an island.  Since my life was so isolated and my identity so broken, I believed no one saw me or cared.   I did not consider the possibility that others might be watching me.  But it turns out, they are.

My children watch me constantly.  Others, I have been told, are watching me too.  The same is true for you.

Consider this for a moment …

What we feed ourselves, what we allow to settle into our minds, what we think on and meditate on … this is what we will have to give to others.

“Watch over your heart with all diligence,
For from it flow the springs of life.”
Proverbs 4:23

Whether we feed on the wisdom of this world or the wisdom of God, it will be what we have to offer to our children, our families, our friends, and anyone with whom we interact.

It will also be what sustains us or cripples us during seasons of difficulty.

If I regularly feast on sugary sweets and then enter a season of famine, my body will have nothing to sustain it until my next real meal.  I will not have strength even for myself, let alone to offer to others who may depend on me or look to me.

However, if I consistently nourish myself with life-building foods, I will have strength for myself and for those around me until I am able to partake once more.

So, in that light, if I regularly fill myself with earthly wisdom and even much of modern Christian thought, then I am essentially existing on fluff … the spiritual version of sugary sweets.  In seasons of trial and famine, I will suffer even more so because of the lack of life-giving strength they afford.  However, if I am regularly partaking in the nourishment the Word of God offers and walking with Him, I will have a storehouse of wisdom and strength from which to draw when seasons are hard.

I read the Word of God because the fluff of this world will never satisfy what only He can and I want my children and anyone who comes in contact with me to understand that truth and know Him.

 

“To You, O Lord, I lift up my soul.  O my God, in You I trust …
Make me know Your ways, O Lord; Teach me Your paths. 
Lead me in Your truth and teach me, for You are the God of my salvation;
For You I wait all the day.”
Psalm 25: 1,2a,4-5 (nasb)

 

 

 

 

 

 

Come and Dine

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**This is Part one of a series on focusing on the value and beauty of reading God’s Word.**

 

You’re hungry.

As a pilgrim on a long, and often, arduous journey, you find yourself so weary that you might not even realize how famished you are until a door opens and the first wafting aroma of prepared food hits your senses.

Your stomach growls as your hands begin to tremble.

You step inside and discover a dining table completely hidden beneath the abundance of every wonderful kind of food you can imagine.  Substantial food meant to nourish and strengthen the body.  Nourishing soups, healthy vegetables, hearty meats — foods intended to fuel your body for the demands of the day.

Off to the side you notice another table filled with sugary desserts.  The kind that are appealing and pretty, all sugar and fluff.  Experience tells you they are sweet and easy to eat, but lack the nourishing qualities of the more sustaining, life-giving food at the first table.

Your body craves nourishment but from which table will you choose to eat?

Will you bypass the table of substantial foods to satiate your cravings with sugary fluff from the dessert table, simply because it provides an immediate, yet temporary relief from your hunger and tastes so sweet?  Will you eat your fill of it until you no longer crave anything more?

Or will you sit at the first table and fill your plate and body with meat, vegetables, and fruits until your strength is renewed?

Which will you choose?

No, this isn’t a post about changing our lifestyles, ditching junk foods, or focusing on whole food diets, plant based diets, or anything of the sort.

Friends, what we feed our souls and minds is so much more important that what we feed our bellies.

*
*

I grew up in a church that valued the Word of God.  Now, that doesn’t mean how the Bible was interpreted and taught was necessarily always correct, as the church functioned within a strong legalistic-minded belief system.  But there was an emphasis made on the Scriptures and I always had a Bible readily available to me, memorizing significant portions of it throughout my childhood.

However, I did not read my Bible consistently on my own nor did I always understand what I read.  Therefore, as I listened to a message or Bible lesson, I simply accepted what that person said to be truth;  After all, they read a verse from the Bible supporting their thoughts, so it had to be true, right?  I never learned how to study the Bible and certainly questioning anyone was never an option in that environment, but I would do my best to read simply so I could check that duty off of my ‘How to be a good Christian’ to-do list.

The truth of it? Reading my Bible was a chore … a constant source of guilt from not remembering to read it daily or from reading it through the lens of poor theology.

As a young adult, I began attending a new church and eventually married, which began to awaken a hunger for something more.  I found myself in a life that was not being supported very well by the shaky spiritual foundation of my youth.  A variety of books came my way and I began to devour these writings by Christian authors because they flowed so easily and made me feel somewhat better.  I thought I would finally find some answers to the burning hunger inside me.  In the mornings, I would sit at the table with my Bible and these books.  I intended to spend time in the Scriptures but those books were so much more appealing so I was drawn to them first.  I didn’t have to think … I just read the thoughts of another.  They became my bible.

But then life began to grow more challenging and confusing, while the hunger inside of me deepened.   I couldn’t find the answers nor the guidance I needed in those books I was reading.  They weren’t enough.  There was no real substance to them in the face of trial and heartache.  There had to be more.  I turned to my Bible again but often grew frustrated with the antiquated language, the poor theology/teaching of my past, and my overall lack of understanding.

I was starving — spiritually starving.

My spiritual foundation began to shake and crumble into dust beneath me.

One Christmas, I decided to buy my husband a new Bible.  He still used a paperback student Bible from his youth and I thought if he had a different Bible, then maybe, well, maybe something would change.  I asked for guidance from a man in our church and that Christmas, I wrapped up a new study Bible, in a version I knew nothing about, and gave it to my husband.

And you know what? Change did begin to happen … in me.

One morning, out of curiosity, I opened his Bible and began to read familiar passages.  They were the same, yet different.  The clear wording and the study notes at the bottom of each page opened an entirely new world to me and even though there was still so much I didn’t understand, I began to delve into the pages of God’s Word in a way I never had before.  I began to feast at the table God had set before me.  Eventually,  I received my very own copy of the Scriptures like I had bought my husband – I was overjoyed and dug in deeper.

“You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies…”
Psalm 23:5a

 

But life only became more perplexing.  I went from being in church services all the time to sitting in a nursery or backroom with my autistic son and my other babies.  Fellowship with other believers became increasingly more rare as I spent day after day caring for my children and night after night staying awake with my son. My world grew very small until it became a journey of walking through a barren desert of isolation.

This is when God’s Word started to become more real to me.

At the recommendation of someone who expressed concern for me and my children, I visited a different church.  I needed help.  My children needed help. I was desperate.  After one solo visit on a Wednesday evening, I was intrigued by the teaching and began taking my younger children to their kids Bible club program.  Within a short period of time, I moved my whole family to this church.  The clear teaching of Scriptures, whether from the pulpit or in counsel, presented without drama or harshness, drew me in and began the process of building a new foundation in my life and in the lives of my children.  A foundation built on the Word of God.

Ironically enough, life did not become any easier.  I tried to get involved, to be part of the church community and find my niche, but it didn’t work, largely due to the needs of my autistic son.  I made sure my younger children were at every service and every event, but I rarely had the freedom nor the stamina to participate myself.  My world grew smaller as I cared for my son with autism and began homeschooling my other children.  I just could not understand God’s plan in all of this as the journey grew increasingly dark.

This is when the Word of God became my Light and that … changed everything.

“Your word is a lamp to my feet
And a light to my path.”
Psalm 119:105

 

Come and dine, won’t you?

leek and potato soup

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