25 Year Celebration = God is Faithful

 

25 years together.  25 years of living the reality of both/and.  Both joy and hard.  Both laughter and tears.  Both understanding and misunderstanding.

Through it all - God.  God, who works all things together for good.  God, who weaves the hard and the joys together in a tapestry that blends together and creates a beauty that is deeper than what I could ever truly grasp.

In the weaving of all things, I realize that God will not withhold any good thing and so what I call bad is not really not bad, but a good that is a hard good.  I realize that I need to reframe the truth of bad and if a hard will destroy me, God will not allow it.  But if a "bad" circumstance (according to my terms) works faith in God, a courage to rise above, or patience, etc; then it is a good that God will allow. 

Choosing God in any and every circumstance and relationship will keep it and He will see us to the end.

In the mistakes, the hard, and the devastations that life bring; when we choose Jesus and invite Him into our fears, doubts, questions, and anxieties; He redeems.

I am grateful for the presence and truth of God that has kept, redeemed, and saved us in ways that bring life.  God is faithful and I rest and anchor myself and us in that greatest truth that keeps and saves us in each and every situation.

The Partnering Duo of Weakness and Strength

 

We like to be strong.  Or should I say, I like to be strong, competent, and able to accomplish a task.  To be weak is to need someone’s help and what if I’m a bother or they don’t even want to help?  What if I am not able to do the task that is in front of me and I am asked to do? We don't have to live long to know that weakness isn't a glamorous trait or one that leaves us feeling confident. Weakness hurts. The weak animal in the wild woods doesn't usually survive. We say that survival is for the fittest. We do all kinds of things to be strong and competent.

Needing help is a vulnerable feeling and leaves me at the mercy of something or someone else.  What if they hurt me or stay away or even walk away? What if I don't survive?

I’ve been in places where I felt trapped, helpless, a victim to circumstances and no one came.  To be needy is a dangerous place to be, I tell myself.  Then I feel the push pull of wanting someone to help me with the confidence to do it on my own. (The weakness I am speaking of is not one of abuse or a victim mentality.  It’s the weakness that leaves you feeling less than, or one where you messed up one more time, or where you feel like you just can’t do it, or are given instructions to not do it. It's the space where another's strength is needed.)

Today is a week post-op for me.  I went home with instructions to not lift more than 10 lbs.  I went home with incisions and changes inside of me.  I slept, walked carefully, sat on a chair more than anything else.  I asked for others to do things or leave it undone. Meals were brought in and I watched a friend vacuum my carpeted floor.  I sat while seeing work that needed to be done and all I could do was look at it or rather look away or sleep some more so I don't have to see what needed to be finished before winter settled in for good.

Weakness.  Ugh, I don’t like it.  But I’ll be honest, parts of it were fun.  I liked the meals brought in and yet I worried that I was a bother to someone else.  I could sit with no guilt because I was supposed to.

As I had much time to think about the needy place I was in, the verse Paul wrote, in response to his request that his thorn in the flesh be removed, came to my mind.  2 Corinthians 12:9 And He has said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.”  Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses so that the power of Christ may dwell in me.

Jesus declared to Paul that in the weakness he feels and experiences, the strength of Himself could be seen.  The power of Jesus was perfected in Paul’s weakness. 

The response of Paul to this was, “I will then gladly boast in my weakness so that the power of Christ may dwell within me.”

To know weakness is to give space for the opportunity of strength.  To know a need is to create the opportunity to partner with the strength of Jesus - His grace.

As I sat, watching my friend vacuum the carpet, she had the opportunity to show her strength in my weak and need-filled hour.  The dirt on the floor had been bothering me.  When she offered, I had a choice to make.  I could brush it off and tell her, “it’s okay, someone will get it later”  or I could accept the offer she held out to me.

I chose to allow her to vacuum my floor.  It felt strange to sit while watching her vacuum.  In the same way that it had felt strange to have people bring me food for our evening meals.  In all reality, I could’ve found a way to do what needed to be done.  In some ways, that would feel safer.  Why?  I actually found myself thinking that if they knew how good I felt they wouldn’t think it necessary to bring in a meal.  The reality is, through them sharing and bringing me and my family food, I felt cared for.  Community was taking place and God was touching a tender place in my heart.

Something is starting to stir within my heart - what if weakness is really the space and opportunity to partner with someone else?  What if I start to see weakness not as a failure, an inconvenience but as an opportunity?

I am glad to help someone who needs help and I don’t think less of them.  Why then, when it’s me, I feel like such a bother?  (Hence, my own broken story tells the paradigm.  Sometimes, we’ve been told such in one way or another.  Maybe the past holds the reality of being alone and needing to find a way.)

I felt the nudge, the stirring of God, maybe wanting to rewrite the paradigm of my story.  So, I am tentatively trying to listen and to pay attention.   I think back to a visit of two older ladies, who said to me, “Just let us care for you.  We want to.”  Tears burn my eyes as I surrender a bit more to my weakness and partner with the strength of someone else.

This duo of strength and weakness, is a continual ebb and flow, a fragile and sacred dance.  Sometimes it’s me giving and other times it’s you giving.  Sometimes it’s me receiving and other times it’s you receiving.  All the while the push pull of wanting to not be needy, to cover my weakness and to show my strength.

But most of all, it’s partnering with Jesus.  People are limited.  People miss us and don’t always help us when we need it.  I remember other times when I could’ve really used help and the world around me laid silent, void of human aid.  Someone had other things to do, opportunities were missed.  We’re left feeling wounded, missed and can so easily make declarations of never opening up in our weakness to need help.

That is a space where I discovered the grace of God, the deep, overflowing and overwhelming grace of God.  I call them Jesus spaces.

God wants to be needed.  If I am always strong and able to do something, then God is never needed.  If humans are always there and get it right for me, then why need God?   It is truly as we own and feel and accept our weakness, that we can know the strength of God.

Truly our weakness when partnered with God and His strength knows a grace that exceeds all boundaries and heals us in ways we never dreamt possible.

Paul gladly accepted his weakness so he could know the power of God.  I open my hand a bit more and surrender to this truth that in my weakness I can know the power of God.

I surrender to the reality that the partnering duo of weakness and strength creates space for a beauty and grace that I want to know.

But to know strength, I must know weakness.  Thank you, Jesus, for Your grace that is sufficient.  It’s a daily, manna grace that feeds us enabling us to rise and with confidence declare that we accept our weakness so You can be strong, Your power and strength dwelling in each of us.

Our Jagged Edges Find Their Place

 

Jagged Edges

Our life’s story once held edges that were clean and smooth

Their shape and lines told of joy.

Their shape made sense in many ways.

They fit, at least for a time.

It may have been a brief moment.

Then for some reason, one day, 

Death, sorrow, and pain disrupted that edge

Leaving it broken, shattered, and jagged.

My story line ripped and broke

And with its jagged edges, it left me bleeding.

My broken pieces, the jagged line

Don’t fit in that box.

Their edges pierce.

They bear a story that is worth listening to

But I am scared, shivering, and wondering.

What if you get too close, will you walk away?

My pieces and edge hurt me, they will hurt you.

I try a piece of purple cloth, wrapping it around me

hoping its royalty will cover those edges.

I straighten my hair, find an article of clothing that I feel good in.

Tomorrow, I try white, hoping to feel the thrill of clean.

I sing. I work. I create.

All the while, hoping it is seen more than my edges.

But it doesn't work.

The edges pierce the cloth.

Broken and jagged edges aren’t mended or healed by being discarded

They invite us to walk the hard path.

They invite us to step into bravery, donning on courage.

Courage to face them, run our fingers over the edges

And listen.

Listen to what they say.

Listen to the story they are trying to tell us.

Looking at them with tears,

Holding them and giving them a space to be.

What about your edges?  

What if I get close?

Yes, they will hurt.

The question is - 

Will you - Will I - don on courage?

Will we wrap it about us like a cloak,

Braving the jagged edges that our stories hold?

Will we allow them to take space and not fit in a box?

Our story edges are asking for a place to be.

In that place they break a bit more, smoothing the edge just a bit,

And we discover the jagged becomes a little less sharp.

Our broken pieces and jagged edges 

Are not the whole story.

When we invite Jesus to sit with us,

Giving Him the jagged edged pieces –

He, in the way that only He can,

Fits those pieces back into our story

And they become part of the whole redeeming paradigm.

His hands and feet bear the marks of a broken edge.

His side was pierced 

And His head bears the marks of the crown of thorns.

He was pierced.

He was broken.

For you and for me.

He is not afraid of your jagged edges.

He wants to touch them with His gentle, gracious, and healing touch.

He wants to whisper to you –

In My hands I will fit them into a masterpiece of redemption.

- words by Judith Lapp

The Lord is near the brokenhearted. Psalm 34:18

Cast all your care in Him, for He cares for you. I Peter 5:7

The mission of Jesus was and is to heal, to revive the smoking flax, and to set the prisoner free. Isaiah 42:3 & 61:1

There are times we need His healing touch on wounded and bleeding hearts. Like the woman who bled physically for 12 years, we too bleed. We bleed inside from a harsh word spoken to us. Maybe our parents spoke words of shame and condemnation. Those friends in school may have left us on the edge. That job you really wanted was given to someone else. Maybe you simply wonder where in this big world do I fit?

There are also those times that life just kinda snuffs the life within and we close our hearts as we shut down to protect ourselves. Life feels to raw to be vulnerable. 

And then in the middle of all that we lock ourselves in.  We make declarations and try a little harder to look good, to be an asset, and all the while we feel the chains. The chains of "I will never", "I will not..."  Bitterness can so quickly take its hold as we remember the injustices and pain. 

Our stories hold pieces that may be out of our control, like when we're little and someone big took advantage of us in any way. Our stories may hold the silent bleeding of wanting to fit in, in this big world. Our stories may hold the "too soon taking- away" of someone we love. 

Whatever pain shattered the edges of your joy and live and life, know that it matters. 

Let's sit for a moment, tracing those jagged edges.

Now let's reach, like that bleeding woman did those many years ago. She reached toward Jesus with faith. She thought, "If I could but touch the hem of His garment, I could find healing. "  Let's reach toward him. With faith. I imagine her reach may have been cautious but bold. It was done in and among the throng of people, very likely not wanting to be seen. 

I wonder if she expected to simply go home, healed and changed?

Faith, a belief in Jesus, is all you need in the midst of your broken pieces. 

Because Jesus is the master Healer and He takes those pieces you cast on Him and in the way that only He can, He fits them together to make something new.  Isaiah 43:19, reminds us that He does something new, rivers in the desert and roadways in the wilderness. 

Our story from the past is fit together with our story of today.  Jesus blends and fits the pieces together to tell a new story, a redemption story. We don't need to discard one for the other or even choose one above the other, but they can become one to make a whole. 

You will very likely be left in awe and wonderment at what healing just took place. You will join the many people who experienced Jesus's love, gentle grace, and healing touch and were in awe.  I know I have and it's possible for you too.

Much love, 

Judith 

The Faithful Presence of God Who Remains Nearby

 

There's this scene in the movie, "Guiding Emily", where Emily is walking by herself, scared, cautious, but courageous.  Emily is blind.  She became blind after a fall.  

She's an adult, a sufficient and confident adult.  Now, she needs to navigate the world, blind, without her natural eyesight.  She's been in a School for the Blind learning with the help of another person.  She's spent the past two months learning how to walk with a cane as she was linked to another person.  

One day, the guide says, "It's time."  "It's time to cut the tie."  Emily tenses, unsure of what is about to happen.  The guide tells her it's time to do it on her own.  She says, "See you back at the school" and walks away.  Tossing these words over her shoulder, "You have the tools, you know what to do.  Listen for the shadow sounds."  

Emily pauses, takes a few steps forward very carefully, and proceeds onward, tapping her cane along the way.  She comes to a street with cars driving by.  She stops before stepping out as she taps her cane.  A car zooms past her.  She begins to take a step, then pausing she steps back, turning as she hears the shadow sounds.  She turns to her right and taking a few steps only to bump into a street pole and falls.

Nearby and watching, stand her guide and friend.  Her friend wants to go and help but the guide says, "Wait.  She's okay.  If you step in and help she'll never learn to be confident.  She has the tools."

Oh, friend, this brings tears and I see how much I am like Emily.  Scared and yet gingerly tapping my way through the darkness, the fog, or what may not make sense.

The diagnosis you received.

Words spoken to you that want to define you.

Maybe the job, position, or friendship you longed for passed you by.

It may even be the situation you find yourself in simply doesn't match the faith or perspective that you believed in. 

How can life be anything different than what it once was?

Do I even know how to move forward, living again?

When I have to walk a hard path and I can't see and Jesus says, "I'll see you back at the house."  I may panic and say, "I can't.  I'm not ready for this."  

Jesus says, "Yes, you are.  You have the tools.  Remember what I said and listen."  

He then stands nearby.  

I have this hunch that you can relate as well to Emily.  Finding yourself in situations where you are stumbling and wondering where in the world is Jesus.  

Jesus is watching and nearby.  He isn't stepping in because you just may need to learn to walk in the darkness and see Him in a whole new way.  Jesus isn't silent to be mean and uncaring.  Jesus is silent because He wants you to discover Him, trusting Him and believing the words He has said to give you a confidence and a hope in the darkness.

Emily never recovers her eyesight.  She does recover her confidence.  She learned how to do what she once did with eyesight, differently.  She conquered and now walks with confidence and a hope, and a cane; experiencing life fully and yet in the the dark.

She has learned to "see" with her ears and touch.  She isn't the same, she is stronger.

We, too, will be changed from whatever we walk through.  God wants to change us from glory to glory and it most times happens in the dark and painfilled happenings.  It happens in the walking and discovering the power and life of the tools we have - the words of Jesus.  We learn to see around us with new eyes, maybe even using our ears instead.

To stay with Him in the hardships we must begin to know Him, today.  Read His words in the Bible.  There are many truths and promises that tell us about Himself that we can anchor our hearts and minds in when the tempests blow and the darkness keeps us from seeing clearly or anything at all.

God stands nearby.