by April | Oct 20, 2012 | Encouragement, Faith, Jesus, Prayer, Uncategorized
An email from a relative reminded me today that life is fragile. After watching his wife lay gravely ill in the hospital for the past week, its tenuous nature is more apparent than ever. He’s openly sharing struggles and triumphs. And their appreciation for prayer is apparent. In the midst of their trials, which are tremendous, he’s finding things to rejoice about.
Oftentimes, though, it’s just the opposite. In talking with some whom I know are hurting, there seems a pervasive attitude that if they admit they have difficulties, this would cast some sort of shadow on God. They feel pressured to put on a happy face, not be sad, not grieve. I, myself, have been told this. Try as I may, it’s been hard for me to understand. But I think I’m finally glimpsing where it’s coming from.
We live in a sales orientated society. What can that product do for me? Watch out—if it doesn’t do what I expect, then I won’t buy it again.
I openly admit that my prayers haven’t always been answered. God is not a magic genie. He’s not my God because I can manipulate Him by saying certain words (seriously, do you want to worship a God you can manipulate?). I can pray, and if it’s not in God’s greater plan, whatever the reason, I won’t have my prayers answered the way I want. Does that mean God doesn’t love me? That I shouldn’t tell people about it, because then, when we’re sharing about God, they might not buy it?
Well, there’s the problem. God is not for sale. The relationship He offers through belief in Christ is free. In fact, Christianity is the only free religion. Free of guilt, free of doubt, freedom of forgiveness—you don’t have to work for it and you can’t pay for it. Grace is given to all who ask.
My God is mighty. Jesus came to save the sinner, the frail and the poor, the weak and the sick. He did not come to save us out of our circumstances, but in the midst of them. And in those trials, thanks be to Him, we can have great peace.
Mark 2:17 On hearing this, Jesus said to them, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” (Full text here)
Philippians 4: 4-7 Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Full text here)
by April | Mar 4, 2012 | Chronic Illness, Encouragement, Expectations, Prayer
I’ve been helping my son clean his room. I have to do this in bits and pieces, because my energy level is in the tank, and if I work for more than an hour or so, I get a raging headache and start to feel sick to my stomach. I can work so long, and then I meet the wall. Meanwhile, we’ve discovered that although his room appeared clean, he’d actually been shoving stuff behind other stuff and cramming things behind other things for quite some time! Anyway, while cleaning, we’ve been putting aside toys he no longer uses or that he’s outgrown. One in particular, a battery operated toy chainsaw, brought up a vivid memory of a time where he tried to help me.
A few years ago, in the middle of a huge windstorm, our fifteen-foot long, twelve-foot high hedge fell over—into the street. It just so happened that my husband was recovering from surgery, and I was unable to uproot it enough to move it out of the way (picture me in a rainstorm in the middle of the street, pulling on a rain soaked hedge). And it had to be moved. So, we called on some friends we knew owned a chainsaw and a truck that could haul it away. We told them how much we needed their help, and they came.
As we were working in the rain, I head a funny noise on the porch. Standing there was my son—age 5—with his very own ‘chainsaw’. He wore his safety goggles and was revving the engine. I almost laughed at the cuteness, but I could see the seriousness in his eyes, so I bit my lip instead. His dad was down, but he, as the other man of the house, was going to do his best to help. I had to explain that his chainsaw wouldn’t quite do the job, but I told him he could help load the branches that were being trimmed down. That satisfied him—but I could see the disappointment in his eyes.
I feel that disappointment some days, too. I have an idea of what I want to do, and how I’m going to do it—I love to help others, I love getting things done. These days, I’m having to learn what I want to do isn’t always what I’m able to do. Talk about frustrating! I never thought I’d be praying for the strength to clean my son’s room. Or praying for patience with myself (from whence my frustration arises!). Or asking God to remind me when I need to take a step back (I’m a push-through kinda gal). There’s a verse that keeps going through my head:
Psalm 121: 1-2 I lift up my eyes to the mountains— where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth. (full text here.)
When your will meets the wall, what do you do?
by April | Nov 28, 2011 | Chronic Illness, CVID, Encouragement, Prayer, Thankfulness
In my last blog, I posted that people with chronic illness or pain have been through the gamut of trying to find ‘the thing’ that will heal them and how it can be hurtful when others try and force their ‘cure’ on them.
Let me be clear—I’m not speaking about people that want to come alongside the hurting and help. I’ve had many loving suggestions from caring friends. Most of those conversations were respectful and kind. I don’t know of anyone who takes offense at loving suggestions. I can tell they are loving because when I respectfully decline they say, “Okay.” And the suggestions stop.
If you fall into that loving category—thank you very much. And especially, thank you for the following: The most valuable comfort in my time of illness has been the friends and family who come and sit beside me in this trial to pray. And to listen. I can’t tell you how wonderful it is just to have someone listen and empathize.
Prayer. Seems simple enough. Unfortunately in our culture, it’s often the last ditch effort. We are doers and fixers. You’ve got a problem, they’ve got the solution. But, when the solution doesn’t work…well, you might have heard the following: “I can’t do anything for you so I’ll pray.”
It’s been said that God doesn’t often change our circumstances, but He does change our hearts in those circumstances. It’s so true. When I submit myself to Him, He gives me strength for that moment. I’ve often been in tears from exhaustion early on in the day. I’ve lost count of the times I’ve cried out and said, “God, I just need to get the laundry done, please help me.” Soon after, I’ll have the strength to do the laundry. Now…if you would have told me twenty years ago that I would be praying for the ability to do laundry (which I hate to do as much as the dishes), I would have laughed in your face. But today, it’s a different story! Taking care of my family is part of who I am, and not being able to do rudimentary things, like laundry, wears me down mentally and spiritually.
Prayer isn’t a magical incantation, and it isn’t manipulation of God wherein we say just the right thing at the right time in the right way in order to make God change His mind and do what we wish. Rather, it is powerful because of the One who answers according to His good will and purpose for our lives. And that’s what I desire: God’s will and the strength and wisdom to endure whatever it is I’m going through.
When you offer prayer in times of trial and a listening ear, you are the hands and feet of our Lord. I’m so grateful for those around me who have been there, praying and listening as we go through our trials. Thank you!
Philippians 4:6-7 Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. (Full text here.)
An email from a relative reminded me today that life is fragile. After watching his wife lay gravely ill in the hospital for the past week, its tenuous nature is more apparent than ever. He’s openly sharing struggles and triumphs. And their appreciation for prayer is apparent. In the midst of their trials, which are tremendous, he’s finding things to rejoice about.
