Jehovah-rapha

Wounded.  Healing.
This week in my small group we studied the name Jehovah-rapha, The Lord Who Heals.  This has not been an in-depth study of just this name, but all the names of Jesus (Lord, I Want to Know You by Kay Arthur).  This week just happened to be Jehovah-rapha.  Except nothing just happens to be.  I am loosing my presupposition that there are things that just happen to be with God's children.  I have been in need of some serious healing for some time now.  He knew this.  He came to me this week, the Great Physician.
As is likely common in everyone's life, a time of hurt seems to have arrived for me, in various forms.  Not one thing is happening to cause this, but what seems an overwhelming avalanche of pain is seeming to surround me and pin me down.  I've had an attitude of "suck it up" and tried to deal with it on my own.  After all, I figure, it could be worse.  And it could be worse.  A whole lot worse.  So many of these painful issues are not happening directly to me, but I am in the ripples.  I could be in the bullseye.  So I put my bandaid on and my strong facade.

I hate pulling bandages off.  It hurts.  I am a wimp, and I still have to ask my husband to do it for me, usually.  If he is not available, I take a hot shower to help steam it off!  Or I just leave it on an unnaturally long time.  This is not a good thing for the actual injury.
I have done this with my heart.  I have not brought my hurt to the One who Heals, but thought I wouldn't bother Him with my petty hurts.  I covered it up.  It began to need to be addressed.  It was beginning to fester.  It needed air.
I read a blog post by Beth Moore from August 10 and I realized that I hadn't been real with God about what I was doing with my heart.  In my quest to keep the God of the Universe from being too busy with trivial things of mine (sarcasm), I had begun to push my pain under the carpet so it wouldn't be seen or dealt with.  God already knows what's under there, but I needed to confess it and bring it out into the light.  I needed this reminder from Beth that I can be completely raw before my Lord.  Even if it is the most unGodly sounding rawness, it needs to come out.  My wounds needed to be exposed and washed out before a real infection set in.
I set before the Lord this week, and in tears, I told Him what I thought about how He was letting things go around here.  I told Him how much I hated it.  I told Him how much I hurt from others' actions and they didn't even get it.  I told Him how unfair it was.  I told Him lots of things.  Then my husband walked in, bless his heart!
In His infinite mercy and compassion, God did not send a bolt of lightning or leprosy or snakes or any other thing to tell me He is God and who am I?!  Instead He listened to me.  He empathized with me.  He reminded me that He felt these very things, (well, maybe not exactly) but He knew how it felt to be unjustly hurt and watch others hurt unjustly.  He knew the difficulty of taking the high road (the highest, in fact) when manipulated.  He knows it all.
 He has also heard it all.  I felt like the Israelites in the desert complaining of yet another perceived lack, when they had the visible presence of God traveling before them in the cloud, with manna from heaven on a daily basis.  I have the presence of God living inside me with the Gospel at my fingertips at any given moment and direct access to speak to Him.  And yet my first instinct is to try and heal myself.  I have reached the bitter waters at Marah, and yet God has given the tree to make it sweet.  He hung on it Himself.  All I have to do now is let His healing waters cleanse my wounds and keep it open to Him to heal.

Malachi 4:2a But for you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings.

Jeremiah 17:14  Heal me, O LORD, and I will be healed; save me and I will be saved, for Thou art my praise.

Yes, Jesus, I will keep my heart open to you, all of it, so You can keep it clean and heal me by the blood of Your wounds.

Tough Tears

I have tried for most of my life to be strong.  I often linked the presence of tears with weakness.  As many of us can probably attest to, growing up we were told to stop crying (or we would be given something to cry about!).  As we grow, we are told to be tough or else thought of as a "baby."  By the time we reach adolescence and young adulthood, we have learned that this type of emotional signal is either a tool of manipulation, a sign of immaturity, or in extreme and often rare cases, a sign of real pain.  At least, this is what I came to believe.

I have spent a long time closing myself off from feeling any emotions strong enough to elicit tears.  There have been only a few deeply meaningful moments where these unwanted drops would fall, but most often this was very private.  Even then, I felt silly, embarrassed and weak. If anyone was present for this lapse in control, I would apologize profusely and promise myself that it would never happen again.  After getting married, more than a decade ago, I was determined not to use emotions as manipulation, and felt betrayed by myself if I ever found my eyes even welling up with moisture, regardless of the circumstances.  Even my husband, with whom I am deeply in love, was not allowed into this deep part of my soul.  As if this is not bad enough, I have found myself unable to fully engage in worship.  I feel the flood levels rise and quickly take measures to lower the water levels.  I sing the words, I listen, but it's mostly with my head because I can't trust myself to open that part of me.
This is a place where I am afraid to go; afraid that I cannot control it if I enter.  It has made me very cynical of those who openly display through their tear ducts the depth of emotion they feel.  I in turn feel that I am somehow being beguiled by their pull at my heart strings.  I tend to look at them with distrust and believe them to be weak.

This year has been one of the most emotionally wrenching years I can remember.  I had planned to move an ocean away, those plans were changed (both decisions came with a huge amount of emotional tolls), I was able to meet and had to say goodbye to a precious baby nephew, I witnessed my parents' remarriages (to other people), and now another divorce in my family is looming.  These are just the really big things, not any of the myriad of other highs or lows.  I hesitate to open up this much and in as much detail as this in such a format, but against my better judgement, here I go.  Many of these events have pushed me to my controlled limit, and I have succumbed to the flood of emotion, a perfect description.

Floods overtake their surroundings and do damage often irreparable.  We can try to rebuild, but it is never the same.  I feel like my heart has been flooded and there is no way to rebuild the fortified dams I had in place before.  I am still trying to keep some semblance of control with some smaller measures, and I know time will rebuild some, but I think I'll not be the same.

Recently I went to a women's conference with my church small group.  I remember very vividly a couple of things that really spoke to me.  The first was at the beginning when the worship leader challenged us to completely fall into worship, like you would fall trustingly into a foam pit!  And, not only to fall, but to jump in with full abandon!  I wanted to, but that just seemed so out of control.  Crazy.  Irresponsible, even.  That image wouldn't leave me alone, however, and in the last time of worship, after hearing our speaker in a conversation with an audience member say something about presenting our tears as an offering to Jesus, the dam broke.  I felt it, physically.  I know there are some that would doubt this, and I don't mind, but I physically felt the walls around my heart crumble, exposing the path to the deepest part of my soul.

This is all very recent, and years of habitual closing off won't suddenly be changed.  I am sure that I will continue to fight feelings that bring tears to my eyes, but I no longer feel that I have to.  I have a freedom to offer my tears to Jesus, either in public or private worship. I can enter in to other's heart stories and feel the pain and hurt with them without judgement.  I'm still working on not feeling embarrassed when I shed tears, but I imagine that will change over time.  Do not misunderstand; I will not be a bumbling mess at all times with no hold on my emotional state, but no longer will I be a statue with a very separate compartment for my emotions either.  I can enter this deep place exposed by the flood, because I don't go alone.  Jesus is there with me and just like the woman who wiped His feet with her tears and her hair, He will not shame me, but will take what I give an offering of love.

Z

Today he would be 18 days old.  His birthday was the 9th, you see.

I had the most amazing opportunity to meet him; to hold his perfect hands that look like his mommy's, to touch his perfect feet, to see how much his tiny mouth looks like his daddy's.

To say hello and goodbye.

I miss him.  I miss my nephew, Z.  He's my 14th N&N!  I love him so much.

This has by far been the most difficult month of my life, and I'm the Aunt.  I can't fathom walking this path in my brother and sister-in-law's shoes.  I would do it in their place in a heartbeat though. If I could.  That seems to be my constant wish; If I could.  But I can't.   Instead, I pray and cry and hope.  It's strange to be an aunt.  I wonder if all aunts feel as close to their nieces and nephews.  I wonder if I feel closer to them because I don't have children.  I wouldn't give up that closeness for anything.  Even when it hurts.

It has been a couple of weeks since we said our goodbyes to Z, but life is not the same.  You don't just move on.  I actually hate that phrase.  You can change it to "moving forward" and it makes it a little better, but it still just stinks.  I'm not one to use or feel comfort from platitudes, even if they are true.  I see the happiness of a new birth with other parents all over the place now, when I don't think I noticed it as much before.  I struggle with wanting to be happy for them, but feeling instead like I want to cry.  I want them to fully realize how fortunate they are.  Hearing about so many others (too many) who have walked this path and come through gives me hope, but still reminds me how much I had taken for granted, and how awful living in a fallen world can be.  Singing beautiful praise songs in church is almost impossible.  Not because I don't believe it, but it's just so emotional.  I was supposed to be making multiple trips to see the little guy, playing with him and babysitting while mommy went to the store or the spa or wherever else she wanted to go!  He was supposed to be here.  It's not the same.  It won't ever be the same.  I don't want it to be the same.

I want to remember those perfect little fingers that looked like his mom's and the lips that formed points just like his dad's.  I want to remember how sweet his tiny perfect feet looked as they peeked out from his blanket.  I want to remember how much his mom and dad looked forward to his entry into the world and how much they love him.

Z has made an impact on my life, and so have his parents.  I have seen how they have loved him, grieved for him, rejoiced for him, and continue to support not only each other, but so many of us around them.  God is using Z.  As we discover all the ways, I will continue to believe that God is grieving with us and comforting us.

Shape Shifting

You remember this toy, right?  I don't exactly remember playing with it per se, but I do remember it while babysitting or working in the church nursery!

We learn early on that certain shapes fit into certain spaces.

Sometimes, this is a lesson that bears repeating in adulthood.

I have been rather sad for the last couple weeks as it has become clear that our path is not what I thought because we were not the right fit.  As close as the star might be to the cross, it won't fit.  The oval will not conform to the circle.  The triangle will not morph into another shape just to go through.

The redeeming fact of the matter is that though certain shapes won't fit just anywhere, they do fit somewhere.  The do fit in the shape that was created for it.

While I grieve the loss of placement of where I wanted to be, I believe that there is a place created just for us.  And while I feel a twinge of guilt in the loss we have created, I also believe there is a perfect fit for that space as well.

Many are the plans in a man's heart,
but it is the Lord's purpose that prevails.
Proverbs 19:21

Loaded Camel

The last couple of weeks, especially, I have been battling a huge array of feelings.  My thoughts have been jumping to conclusions that have some basis in reality, but nothing confirmed.  

I am afraid.

I am afraid of being miserable.

I'm afraid of failing.

These are things I am readily able to admit, but I wonder how much of this fear is clouding and affecting my judgements.  Fortunately, I have a brother-in-law who is wise and understanding, and extremely diplomatic, who has helped me to see what I could be doing to my self-ascribed former clear mindedness.  These are his words:

I'm loading the camel.

You've likely heard the phrase, "The straw that broke the camels back."  In allowing my mind to fill with negative thoughts (beyond the realistic questions), I have begun to load the camel.  In making assumptions that have resulted in frustrations, having unrealistic expectations that inevitably result in disappointments, I have loaded the camel.  In not communicating in a way that asks for the information that I desired that brings me a feeling of distrust due to a lack of communication, I have loaded the camel.  I am just setting myself up for that proverbial last straw.

So, am I really open to what God may want for me?  I want to be, but it is extremely difficult to allow myself to see what God wants over my load.  Especially if I have it so densely packed.

I am preparing to go on a journey that desperately needs a lighter load.  I have been praying that God will help me unload the camel, give Him the weight, and trust His leading.  An amazing oasis might be just over the hill.

Wicked Weeds

Dandelions.

They are everywhere.  Really, I've seen them.  

I cannot believe how beautiful they can be, especially if they are not in my flower beds.  

 I have to admit, there were several amazing specimens in my lawn back in Alaska.  Especially once I started to fertilize said lawn.  They are really quite a beautiful and rugged flower.

So rugged, in fact, that it is very difficult to get rid of them.  One thing that does help to eliminate them, other than meticulously hand picking each and every one with the entire root system, is to first feed them.  This may sound counterintuitive, but it serves a purpose.  When plants are at their best, they are able to store food all the way through their system.  This is when it is optimum to apply the desired product of destruction.  It's almost like you get in good with the dandelion, and BAM!  Take 'em out.  It's a bit harsh but effective.

I was reading in Psalm 92 today.  Verse 7 states:

"That when the wicked

sprouted up like grass

And all who did iniquity

flourished,

It was only that they might

be destroyed

forevermore."

Sometimes I wonder if God does the same thing with evil as I do with dandelions in the lawn.  God was the original landscape designer, and I know He hates the weeds that come into His creation, slowly sucking the nutrients and moisture away from what He has sown.  Could it be that when we see all the evil in this world, and the seeming lack of consequences, that it's just a matter of time before the BAM!?  It gives me a little bit of solace knowing that even though the wicked weeds are showing themselves off to be something of beauty, their seemingly uninhibited splendor will be destroyed.  I can rest in this.  I can know that the evil that enslaves, kills, mutilates, and inflicts any other number of pains, will be destroyed.  Forevermore.

New Year, New Adventures!

I'm going to honest.  (like I'm not usually!)  I getting more and more apprehensive about moving to Africa.  

Probably not a huge surprise to anyone who has actually done anything new.  That pretty much includes everyone.  Basically, the idea has been very romantic and the closer it comes, the more realistic I am becoming.  

Romantic (above) vs Realistic (below)

 Romantic vs. Realistic

 Romantic vs. Realistic

It's going to be hard.  Very hard.  I'm not exactly sure the extent of all the different ways it will be hard, but I can pretty confidently guess that every aspect of my life will change.  

I have been in a process of transferring my trust from people to God.  One might think that she has done this once she gave her life to Him, but in my world that doesn't just happen.  It is clearly an ongoing process, not a box to check.  I am realizing how little I actually trust God to direct my life.  I continue to see all the places where I place my trust on myself, my husband, or others.  I have been disappointed.  As long as I trust people to guide me, I will be disappointed.  I may not feel let down at first, but it will happen.  Every time.  With God, I may feel let down at first as I struggle to discover His purposes, but I will never be disappointed in the end.  Ever.  

As this new year dawns, it brings new adventures and experiences that I am anxious about, but also excited.  I can only imagine where God will take me, how He will grow me, and what kind of person I will become through this year.  From Alaska to Africa - who'd have ever guessed?!

(Thanks to D. H. (my boss) for the use of these pictures of his trip to Ghana!)

Mountain Climbing

We have this old-fashioned thing called a camera.  It's only purpose is to take pictures.  Weird, I know.  It is not so old to have film, though I have one of those as well (as for film, I'd have to suggest one Google it!).  It is with this relic of technology that I took some "passport photos" for our visa application.  Let me just say, there is no way for these to look lovely, though I will admit, makeup may have helped me a bit.  

So now that these lovely photo's have been cut-up, pasted to the application, and mailed off, it is official: We have formally applied to be in the country of Ghana.

One might think that this is quite an accomplishment (visa applications are not too difficult, but a pain nonetheless), but it really feels like I've taken but one step up Mount Everest.  There feels to be mountainous amounts of information that need to be gathered, questions that need to be answered, and plans upon which must be decided.  Moving forward is a monumental task.  It gets overwhelming to me more and more.

When we first said "yes" to this adventure, I was all about just going with the flow, and "just do what you can do!" I told my husband in his anxiety.  Now it is my turn.  I have taken a much bigger role in Vytrak than I anticipated, and I am extremely glad I have, don't get me wrong, but with this bigger role comes responsibility, and with that comes the pressure to succeed.  I'm pretty sure this pressure is self-administered, but it doesn't change the fact that I now have real responsibilities and others are relying on me.

There are times I just want to go back to being "Pat's Wife."

It can be so much easier to be the supportive one, as opposed to the one needing support.

Thankfully, I have an amazing husband who comes into my whirlwind of panic, holds my hand and we find our footing together.  The whirlwind hasn't exactly gone away, but I know I have support and someone walking it with me.  This is a good thing, because as he says, this is just the bunny hill.  We haven't even begun to get to the steep parts yet.

Ultimately, I have to acknowledge that I have no real clue or control over what is happening.  I totally love change when I am the one controlling the outcome.  This is a little over my head and it makes me nervous.  I am really trying to give my anxieties (that seem to grow in proportion to my knowledge) up to Christ and let Him lead me.  I think.  I'm not actually sure what this practically looks like!  I feel such a desire for tangible symbols of release like burning pieces of paper with my anxieties written on them during a time of prayer.   Maybe I'll have myself a bonfire tonight!

I keep thinking of the Psalty song, One Step at a Time!  I definitely feel like I'm climbing a mountain one step at a time!  I'm feeling a smores craving with all this mountain climbing and bonfire talk!

Hanging Out

I don't really have a concise quip for this one.  Something that makes you go "huh!"

I am in a season of anticipation.  I am so ready to start the next stage of our lives, yet so unprepared.  I am wanting to soak up as much family time as I can, yet savoring the time to myself.  I feel the need to educate myself, and also to leave room for being taught.

I know God is preparing me for all the future contrasts I will encounter.  He is giving me the opportunity in this familiar environment to work through some of this.  I am not too sure I'm doing a great job though.  I know that I have things to do, but I know that the work will be inevitable, so I am leaning toward the soft comforts now.  I don't think it will serve me well in the end!

Perhaps I am like the shoes: meant for pounding the pavement, but hanging out and enjoying the view - at least until it rains!

Refreshment

I'm back in Kansas again!
It has been hot.
Today is absolutely perfect - 78 degrees and thunderstorms!

 Did I mention we have been able to see our N&N's?!  Not all, but 11.5 of them! (one more on the way!)

Our first day was full of hugs, and we have already had a chance to mingle and play a little Bocce with them!

This is part of why I wanted to be here.  It has been a fun welcoming.  Because lives are busy, it will be interesting to see how much I'll be able to stretch myself to watch all the football, soccer, tennis, and basketball games.

I also hope I can refuel my spirit.  I hunger for the type of relationships I've had before here, and also in AK, that can give me perspective, growth, and encouragement.  I am a little concerned for myself for the move to Africa, and I hope to cultivate relationships very intentionally that will continue through my time there.  This sounds very selfish, but I also hope to be involved in others' lives to keep myself from becoming self-absorbed.  I've learned this from a new friend I met this summer who happens to live in China right now.  (She was in Alaska this summer, to avoid confusion!)   I hope I can reach out and make this time work.  I am discovering some frustration with our single car issue, but I think God can work around that!

We have already felt some reach out to us and felt encouraged back into our former church.  I am ready and excited to drink this tall cool glass of refreshment!

Miss me?

I don't handle stress very well.

My patience level, which is not exactly a deep reservoir, becomes as thin and as strong as a sheet of cheap toilet paper.  This particular trait makes me so enjoyable to be around.  Yes, that's sarcasm.  That's another stress-induced trait that rears its ugly head.  This lack of patience and overabundance of sarcasm have led me into a couple of frustrating situations recently.  I hate this.

I'm not ending well.

I had hoped that this would be a bittersweet transition into the next phase of our lives, but right now it just feels like I want to pack up and quietly slip away.  Sadly, I'm not sure I'd be missed.

Some of the stressors are legitimate, and I frequently excuse myself with these, but my inability to refrain from contentious responses are all me.  I see a opening and regardless of my real opinion, I interject an argument.  My husband is truly appreciative of this mighty skill I have.  Especially on a Sunday morning on the way to church.

I'm not sure what I need to do right now about this.  God and I have had some talks, but I'm still tripping all over it.  Sometimes I think I just need to pull up my big-girl panties and realize that everyone is not as enlightened as I am I only have control over myself and I have the power of self-control.  God said so.  I don't have to agree with everyone, but I can respond lovingly or even choose to refrain from responding in an effort to keep the peace.

I wish I were a person who was missed.
Maybe it's not too late.

White Time

It's funny how during the winter, I long for the whiteness to be gone.  Now, the lushness of the multitudes of greens fill the landscape and a spot of white is like a light in a dark place.

Funny how perspectives change.

I had hoped that I would feel a real uplift with the sale of our house and the prospect of moving to the next step.  I did, for a while.  Those bursts of lightness have settled into a valley of fog.  I feel like I'm just wandering around, waiting again.  It is 3 weeks until we are officially out of our house, and I have packed up what I think we will be taking that we don't need right now, I have had one garage sale with one more this week, and I have donated and thrown away more.  I have visited with friends and made lists to eliminate my pantry as efficiently as possible.  I have made a couple itineraries for our impending road trip, and saved a few books to take along.  I have called Canada to prepare for our entry, and I have my list of utilities to call in a couple more weeks.  We have our storage totes half-filled, the trailers are travel ready, and the trucks are serviced with tires mounted. We have prepared all that we can, for the time being.

With an abundance of time, I am wishing for movement.  I know that when this situation flips, I will long for a moment of time in quiet peace.

Funny how perspectives change.

Mere Churchianity ~ Book Review

Mere Churchianity is one of the most blunt, politically incorrect, refreshing take on the modern American church I have ever read.  The late Michael Spencer, The Internet Monk, wrote this book to address the issues that have pushed many away from the church while looking for Jesus.  I wish I had discovered his blog long ago.

I had no previous knowledge of Mr. Spencer, so I was a bit surprised at the level of honesty and blunt language he used.  I don't have the same level of disillusionment that many have had with the church at large, but I related to many of the issued presented.  I found myself underlining many of it, wanting to say "Amen!" but also feeling a renewed responsibility to represent the church more correctly.  This is not a soft, loving encouragement to live better, but a serious bucket of cold water to institutional Christianity.  To call it critical of the conventional church is to say it mildly.  Refreshing and needed are my personal takes.  

A basic summary of the book is an acknowledgement of the failure of many aspects of the modern, evangelical church to connect to people despite the massive amounts of money poured into the entertainment values that the church seems to prioritize as the connection point.  It clearly isn't working on the broad scale, and Michael then goes on to discuss what does work; a Jesus-shaped spirituality.  His writings clearly defend the essentials of following Christ, but gives a defense to the variety of ways this can be manifested in individuals and groups as well.  

Even though his critique of the church is harsh, he does this in a mildly self-deprecating way, acknowledging that he was part of the problem for many years, never to make it to perfection, but trying.  I felt like when I was afraid he was getting to superior, he would include a story or disclaimer that showed he knew he was a flawed human, too.

I followed the writing very easily and since I resonated with so much of what he wrote, I didn't feel the offense that I imagine those ingrained in the organized church may feel.  I do think, however, that constructive criticism is vital, not just in the secular world, but in the family of faith as well.  I would recommend this book to those who have left the organized church, are thinking of leaving, or like me, just long for a honest approach to growth within the church.  Just be ready for some hard truths and brutal honesty.

I received a copy of this book at not cost by the publishers, and was in no way encouraged to review it with any bias.  

Journeys

My husband is so funny!  He seems to be so cautious that he very much hesitates to make anything "official," but since I throw caution to the wind, I can feel comfortable stating that we are now planning on moving to Ghana!

Why the caution?  Well, we have been in a position of making announcements of plans in the past that never came to fruition.  Though this has not been from anything on our part, he still seems to want to proceed cautiously with anything definite.  I understand.  It's hard to go back on what you've told people you plan to do.  There end up being a lot of questions that make it seem like we are the flighty ones.  Fortunately, that label isn't one that I worry about!  I choose to see it that we are always open to God's leading and that includes stopping in one direction to going in another.  We are flexible. I think that will come in very handy in the next year or so.

I am not anxious about moving to Africa.  I know there will be a LOT of things to get done in the next months to prepare to move, but anxiety isn't an emotion I go to often.  Usually, if anything, I get frustrated at the pace of change.  It doesn't seem to go fast enough for me.  I see a goal and I want to get there.  Now.  I'm working on that, or rather, God is working on that in me.  I am learning to see the journey as a valuable experience, not just the destination; literally and figuratively!

Memory Banking

I took a canoe ride and a walk along a back trail yesterday.  It was a good walk.  When I have a lot of time to myself, I tend to get pretty introspective.  I have wondered with increasing seriousness if this will indeed be the last summer I spend in our home here.  This being the 3rd year that our house is for sale, I have wondered this before.  With increasing certainty, I feel this will be it, regardless of whether we move to Africa or not.  I don't know when God will sell our house.  I don't know why He hasn't done it yet, or even if He will in the way we hope.  It probably won't be the way we expect.  God likes to keep us on our toes!

It really is amazing how beautiful something is when you know it won't be yours forever.  Breathing in the cool, clean air that has a uniquely Alaskan scent of moss, spruce, and swamp decomposition, makes me nostalgic.  Walking through the woods with trees covered in lichen and "Old Man's Beard" moss and being surprised by the bright green patches of wood ferns reminds me how much I will miss.  I know it won't be the same to go for walks with defense items in case I run into a moose mama with her newborn red-haired calf.

When will I ever go back to the house in a canoe across my pond?

These are little gifts of memories that I hope I can enjoy until the time God calls us on to our next adventure!

Whiplash

Isn't it interesting how following God's will for our lives rarely results in the rewards we expect?  I'm reading a book titled Plan B by Pete Wilson that basically is talking about navigating the feelings we have when God doesn't work like we thought or hoped.  Then, non-coincidentally, I am reading in 1 Kings where God doesn't work like those who follow Him thought He would or hoped.

For example, the widow who obediently makes the "last" of her oil and flour into a cake for Elijah first (and consequently never runs out of those two ingredients while Elijah is there), has her son get sick and die.  Surely that wouldn't have happened with a God who really cares, right?  That is some reward.  I can't begin to imagine all that she goes through, though the Bible does give us one of her comments to Elijah, "What do I have to do with you, O man of God? You have come to me to bring my iniquity to remembrance and to put my son to death!" (1Kings 17:18).  I would imagine that she wishes at this moment to have fed her and her son the last of the bread and just died together from starvation rather than feel the anguish of loosing her son this way.

But then, God reveals Himself in a way that could not have been seen without the tragedy; He raises the boy back to life!  Talk about whiplash!  First she goes through the death of her husband, then a famine, then starvation; Elijah shows up and suddenly there is enough food!  Then her son gets sick and even dies; Elijah prays and God restores him!

Just in the next chapter, God calls Obadiah (who has been faithfully following God under the oppressive reign of Ahab and Jezebel, even to the point of hiding 100 prophets and feeding them during the famine) to confront King Ahab, risking his life, to announce that Elijah is there.  Again, not the reward Obadiah expected for his obedience.  His response to Elijah is recorded in 1 Kings 18:13,14.  Basically he tells Elijah about all he's done and surely he isn't expected to do this.  But he is, and he does, and he lives.

As if this isn't enough, Elijah himself, evidently not immune to this whiplash effect, has a mountain-top experience of revealing God through the contest on Mt. Carmel, only to have Jezebel come after him to kill him.  Surely after such a display of God's power, this evil woman could be dispatched by God.  Elijah runs into the wilderness and depressed, prays for God to take his life.  Instead, God sends angels to give him water and bread and let's him recover for a couple days.  After this sustenance, God takes him 40 days/nights into the wilderness to His mountain and reveals himself to Elijah.  They have a conversation where Elijah shares his concerns, and God tells him what to do and how He will divide the burden to others and will give Elijah a protege/helper.

I wonder if this is what Elijah expected.  After seeing God bring down fire to consume a saturated altar, surely He could just do that to all the evil ones.  But He didn't.  God works in His ways to His purposes.  He often takes us along the long paths because as Pete Wilson puts it, "...we often misunderstand something important about God's will - which is that it's often a process, not a final destination."  Pastor Rick Warren also states that "God is more interested in your character than your comfort."

These statements give me mixed feelings.  The knowledge that this refining will be a likely series of processes is a little frustrating, but ultimately I can rest in knowing that God is refining me.  I want to be used by God and this is how He works.  It doesn't all turn out like we think it should here on earth, but it will ultimately turn out just like it should.

As One Devil to Another ~ Book Review and Drawing!

As a fan of C.S. Lewis, I was familiar with this format of one "devil" corresponding to another with a glimpse of what that could possibly look like.  Richard Platt takes this method and does his predecessor proud.  As One Devil to Another opens, we see the plight of a possible demon whose sole purpose is to keep the soul of one woman from falling into God's (the Adversary in the tale) hands.

The tale is exceptional at explaining how Satan could be using today's issues and new norms to cultivate his seemingly winning war against God, specifically in developed cultures.  I was impressed to read the simple and direct line of thinking with regards to technology and sex that clearly shows a direction away from God's Word.  It isn't complicated.  In fact, it's too easy.  Along with these modern issues, Platt also uses this forum to explain a little about the deeper reasons for pain and suffering or loss.  In a humorous way, we see the plight of the demons thwarted by God's grace.

The writing was very easy to follow, though I must admit, I kept thinking there would be a 2-way correspondence, not primarily one.  Once I figured that out, it was pretty smooth sailing.  My only real complaint was with the drawings and the obvious comic bent they provided.  I'm not one to believe there is a demon around every bush, but I don't believe they are little "devils" with horns and a pointy tail.  For whatever reason, this overly-done cartoon view of demons makes me feel like telling the one who does the writing/drawing to be careful, but then again, I have nothing to fear either.

I enjoyed the book and would recommend it to any of my Christian friends.  Especially those who have enjoyed C.S. Lewis.  I am thankful for Tyndale Publishers for providing me with this copy.  If you would like a copy of this from them as well, please comment and I will draw a name to win a certificate for a free copy!  You can simply take the certificate into a Christian bookstore or mail it to them (instructions are on the certificate) and viola!  Don't forget to comment!

Springing Forward...Someday

Spring has finally begun here in the land of the north.  I love my flowers, so it's no surprise that I get excited about the colors and textures that emerge from my basket at the garden center.  Most of this beautification is for me personally, but we are still trying to sell the house, and I hear that flowers help.  Whatever.  

 I'm feeling a bit snarky, and I'm a bit beyond tired of this snow.  It's May.  It clearly didn't get the memo.  I'm *this* close to getting the shovel out and spreading the snow out into the yard.

 I am truly finding joy and excitement (and hope!) in every little face that pops out.  It's a reminder to me that winter does end.  Life does move forward.

 My real frustration is that it seems to happen so much faster for others than for us.  It seems that I continually hear (though this is most likely perception rather than reality) of others selling their house in a matter of minutes!  I really don't doubt that we are on a path that God has ordained, and I feel peace about selling our home, I just don't understand why it is taking so long for God to sell it.  Surely if we are following His leading, we would be rewarded, right?  No.  God never promised anything of the sort.  Dang.
I can see how the time that has passed has brought us to a complete reliance of God in regards to planning.  I think we have looked at about 3 million different properties from Alaska to Kansas, and even areas in between.  We have changed our house plans from a tiny shed/cabin, to a slightly larger cabin, to simply buying a farmhouse.  We've looked at job opportunities in other places and tried to imagine life with much less, and being much more free.
Today we are in limbo with the prospect of moving to Ghana, Africa.  There is a Christian company, Vytrak, which is looking to create a vehicle that is simple and durable for use in Africa.  We are looking into being part of the team to go to Ghana and help set up the manufacturing of these vehicles.  Yes, this is pretty much my husband's forte, but I am pretty versatile as well!
Or, we will do something else.
We really don't know.

In the meantime, I will try to keep myself from resenting others' successful sales of their homes and keep my focus on what is directly in front of me, lest I miss the beauty of new life.

Try.

Revelations

I am not just a little bit excited for the snow to melt here!  I mentioned on my other blog that I could relate to the excitement of the thaw in The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe!  I see every tiny change in the landscape that reveals just a little bit more.  

For some reason I find great hope in the ever-enlarging reveals.  I have much more hope this year that our house will sell and we will be moving on to whatever God calls us.  I'm actually having more of a hard time guarding my heart against the possibilities.  The future looks so bright I'm having difficulty living in the present.  I just want to "GO!"  It is so hard to wait for the snow to melt and reveal that which is really there.

Spring Fever!

 I wish I could take credit for these beautiful blooms, but it was my mom who took them at Botanica, the botanical gardens in Wichita, KS.  They are so beautiful!  It gives me hope that spring will come here, too!  I know it will.  It is raining as I write!  Remember those April showers?!

 Spring has never been my favorite season.  I seem to carry this cynicism that takes away from the little moments of life breaking through the cold.  I don't like this about me.  I have always seen spring as a tease; starting to get warm, only to bring in the bleak clouds of rain and more cold.  This feeling was only reinforced when we moved to Alaska and "spring" is called "Break-up."  It is a time where the snow starts to melt and the ice literally breaks up.  The roads are a huge mess and it's muddy, mucky, cold, and wet.  And brown.  Leaves start to emerge in May.  Tulips show up around mid-May here, if they make it past the moose!

 In the past year, I have kept a list of things for which I am thankful.  It was funny because I got a book that had this suggestion and tried to read it, but I couldn't get through it.  Ironically, it was too flowery for me.  I continued my journaling, however, and I am trying to get past my cynicism.  I want to see the beauty in the first blade of grass I see, in the smell of the soil, in the warmth of the sunshine; not sulk that the snow isn't gone yet.  Sometimes I wonder how much I've missed while lamenting all that is not perfect.  I know we were made for a perfect world, but I believe God sends us glimpses of it!

Thanks, Mom, for sending me this one!