When Questions become Answers.

A crowning head of white hair adorns a very loved and beautiful grandmothery woman at our church. Her name is Betty. Pearls of Miss Betty’s wisdom are cherished. I sat next to her at a lady’s retreat a couple years ago. Her words were of worth, and I want to extend the white glossy beads, before I too forget.

She shared of her experience of attending college during the second World War. Her time was lent in a hospital, working as a nurses aid of sorts, caring for patients. The head of the hospital held a training conference for them, which she attended. He spoke to them of counseling. He said, often in this line of work will someone ask you for help, and they will ask, “What should I do?”

He suggested that many times the answer to life's questions would seem easy, obvious. It would be easy for his staff to want to “tell” someone exactly what should be done and how. But he taught them how little this never really helps. He said, to truly help someone, you must wisely help them to see the truth with their own eyes. Miss Betty likened this to talking with a teenager who will turn a deaf ear at being preached at. She said the secret to Godly counsel is in prayer and wise, thoughtful questions. She instructed that I could ask my blathering little daughter if she would rather be sorry for herself? Or, fix the problem? The choice, the decision to do the right thing then becomes our own. And the action that follows is done of our own accord. With questions, I am training them, encouraging their own decision process for the next time they find themselves in a similar situation.

Asking questions leaves room for God to do the talking.

Miss Betty shared humbly and sweetly that when someone comes to her, in need or want of advice, she must first truly listen. And then she must pray, and ask God in His wisdom to help her direct questions that allow for the one who needs help to reach a conclusion of truth and right thinking on their own. There is a gentleness to this. Compassion is nothing, if not gentle.

Seeing God’s truth with our own eyes will always be far more beautiful than any canvas others may paint for us.

I diligently applied this to my mothering for a while afterward—and like much else I learn, often I forget, and the habit dies.  I would ask— Why did that make you angry? What do you think you should do to fix this problem? What would please the Lord in this situation? How would you want to be treated?

The Lord brought her wisdom back to mind recently when I found myself in need of counsel. Found myself unheard; with answers that didn’t speak to my questions. Her pearl was worth remembering. So for today, and prayerfully many of my tomorrows, I will listen before I answer. I will ask my children questions before I advise. And I will ask myself if I am listening to Him, His words, or merely the sound of my own voice?

 

                                                  Sometimes the only way to help, is to reach for God's.

               For our best advice has very little to do with our own wisdom, 

and everything to do with His.

James 1:19 My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak.

1 Corinthians 2:¹³ This is what we speak, not in words taught us by human wisdom but in words taught by the Spirit, explaining spiritual realities with Spirit-taught words

Psalms 119: ³⁴ Give me understanding, so that I may keep your law
   and obey it with all my heart. ³⁵ Direct me in the path of your commands,
   for there I find delight. ³⁶ Turn my heart toward your statutes
   and not toward selfish gain.

John 16: ¹³ But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth. He will not speak on his own; he will speak only what he hears, and he will tell you what is yet to come. ¹⁴ He will glorify me because it is from me that he will receive what he will make known to you. ¹⁵ All that belongs to the Father is mine. That is why I said the Spirit will receive from me what he will make known to you.”

John 14: ²⁵ “All this I have spoken while still with you. ²⁶ But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you all things and will remind you of everything I have said to you. 

How we give Christmas.

Hanging onto the shirt tails of November, I am anticipating days ahead, December’s festivities already peeking out from the walls of our home. As we handled the hodge-podge of home-made, inherited and memorable gifted ornaments, and strung them over the branches of the tree, I watched as Rowan eyed a sparkling star and looked in wonder at our lighted collage.

A simple thought struck my heart as he fingered that small piece of this season, wondering why his world has gone sparkling— “How will I give them Christmas?”

 

I think of how He has given it to me. That Christmas morn, He birthed such hope, such promise of things yet to come, such joy—and a whole chorus of angels proclaiming peace. My version of chicken scratches filling each calendar box, lofty goals of gifts all homemade, old traditions and new accompanied by dutiful fulfillment was hardly what He came for.

I try desperately to gather the loose ends closer, to pull in what matters and let the rest fall away, and I feel a bit like I’m in the ticket machine at Chucky Cheese. With all the pieces of life blasting around me, I hardly know which bits to grasp at. If onlys fall easily from my thoughts, “If only I could get this house de-cluttered, if only I could have time for each child, one-on-one, if only I could get these piles of laundry away, if only I could clear my thoughts, if only I could have a couple hours alone, if only I could feel rested…”

And then I am face to face again with the question, “How will I give them Christmas?”

Life is imperfect. My scenery behind this season is also imperfect. Yet I think of Christmas’s first backdrop, hardly the setting of a King. And in the midst of the muck, my Savior was born. Nothing about His goodness could be hindered by what this world offered in return. The Christmas I offer to my children has far less to do with how many batches of cookies emerge from my oven, or how many dishes are stacked in my sink; but has everything to do with the humble, dear story of our Savior, born that we too may be born again. Everything to do with peace. For He says, “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27

If my house is imperfect, than let it be a joyful mess, a home filled with life, and lives humbled before Him. If my plans fail, let them not fail to have sought after You as the shepherds did. If I am without peace, than tune my ears to the chorus of angels proclaiming Yours. If I am overwhelmed, let me only be overwhelmed with Your goodness.

How will I give them Christmas?

In simplicity: only to joyfully, humbly, remember the One thing that matters at all-- Jesus. May their picture of Christmas be of a babe in a manger, small and holy, wrapped in swaddling clothes. Of a babe who was, and is, and is to come.  

    

  

 

Close to His Heart.

If I am so often compared to a sheep in the Bible, it shouldn’t be any wonder that I wander through perilous valleys more times than not. And I am prone to be in danger. As my pastor preached this past Sunday, my only defense is my Shepherd: no horns, no sharp teeth, no speed or aggressive instincts to defend with. Whatever the prey, it is only my Shepherd that can save me: lost and dumb as I am. And as I feel an overwhelming need to be held close to His heart these days, I read in Isaiah 40:

¹¹ He tends his flock like a shepherd:
   He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
   he gently leads those that have young.

I wonder at the beauty of these words. These days when all I want so badly is to get it right-- not miss this precious fleeting time I have to raise my own children. I want to pour into their lives in ways that build them up, that encourage and inspire, yearn to wet their thirst for a Savior, and I find the task so unbelievably risky. The stakes are so high if I am counted as the shepherd. Oh, but I’m not. I am merely a helpless mama sheep, caring for her young, best she can, but ultimately led gently, held closely, by the only One who can turn my muddled attempts into and good for His glory. My greatest task as a mother is to closely follow my Shepherd, and let Him gather and care for my sheep.

Lord, weak as I am, helpless as I am, please keep me close to Your heart. Lead me beside the still water, restore my soul. Lord, give me the strength to follow Your voice, the submission to be held in your arms, the discipline to stay on Your path, and the courage to walk joyfully through the valleys.

          

²⁹ He gives strength to the weary

   and increases the power of the weak.
³⁰ Even youths grow tired and weary,
   and young men stumble and fall;
³¹ but those who hope in the LORD
   will renew their strength.
They will soar on wings like eagles;
   they will run and not grow weary,
   they will walk and not be faint.- Isaiah 40

Need Hope?

On the tails of a long day, I come to Him with tired eyes and a nearly empty self. I crawl into the corner of the Bible that has the comfort of a fire-side, overstuffed armchair. It comforts me: I crawl into Isaiah 35.  

 

Isaiah 35

Joy of the Redeemed

 ¹ The desert and the parched land will be glad;
   the wilderness will rejoice and blossom.
Like the crocus, ² it will burst into bloom;
   it will rejoice greatly and shout for joy.
The glory of Lebanon will be given to it,
   the splendor of Carmel and Sharon;
they will see the glory of the LORD,
   the splendor of our God.

 ³ Strengthen the feeble hands,
   steady the knees that give way;

⁴ say to those with fearful hearts,

   “Be strong, do not fear;

your God will come,

   he will come with vengeance;

with divine retribution

   he will come to save you.”

 ⁵ Then will the eyes of the blind be opened

   and the ears of the deaf unstopped.

⁶ Then will the lame leap like a deer,

   and the mute tongue shout for joy.

Water will gush forth in the wilderness

   and streams in the desert.

⁷ The burning sand will become a pool,
   the thirsty ground bubbling springs.

In the haunts where jackals once lay,

   grass and reeds and papyrus will grow.

 ⁸ And a highway will be there;

   it will be called the Way of Holiness;

   it will be for those who walk on that Way.

The unclean will not journey on it;

   wicked fools will not go about on it.

⁹ No lion will be there,

   nor any ravenous beast;

   they will not be found there.

But only the redeemed will walk there,

 ¹⁰ and those the LORD has rescued will return.

They will enter Zion with singing;

   everlasting joy will crown their heads.

Gladness and joy will overtake them,
   and sorrow and sighing will flee away.

If I close my eyes I can almost imagine how wonderful that moment will be, when we, His redeemed, will be overtaken with joy and gladness. I have had a few glimpses on earth: the moment my newborns were first placed in my arms, a sparkling ring slid onto my finger with a promise-- but these glimpses pale to that moment when I will be swept off my feet and carried into His presence. What better hope to cling to than this promise of gladness and joy everlasting-- when all sorrow and sighing will flee away? 

                                                                                                                                      JOY

The Only Sight for Sore Eyes.

There are times when God is quiet, when life flows by on smooth steady water, gentle turns. And there are turbulent times. There are times when the waves beat hard enough to disorient. And yet something about it assures me that I am very much alive; I feel pain deeply; I am acquainted with real fear. And from the midst of the storm comes Jesus walking on water. His words, “Take courage! It is I. Don’t be afraid.“ (Matthew 14)

Everything inside of me needs to hear those words. I know that this storm can rage, but it can never destroy me, for passage to my homeland has been paid. And Jesus is here in the midst of the storm with me-- Jesus who rebukes the waves. “Then he got up and rebuked the winds and the waves, and it was completely calm.” (Matthew 8:26) And while the storm yet rages, Lord, help my eyes to remain fixed on You, not the waves. God, You know how drenched I am. You know that I’ve faltered, know my white knuckles have been gripping the boat in fear. Lord, help my eyes to be fixed on You. (Matthew 14) “Immediately Jesus reached out his hand and caught him [Peter]. “You of little faith,” he said, “why did you doubt?” And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down. Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, “Truly you are the Son of God.”  

Lord, help me to trust. Help the words from my mouth only proclaim: Truly, You are the Son of God. You are the Prince of Peace, Rebuker of the winds, My Shelter, Guard over my heart, Keeper of my soul.

Who is He to you today?

Heavenward.

When the sun washes up the shore of a new day after a restless night, the first words I heard were in a song: You are Good. And He is. My soul sings it out at the top of its lungs. Scripture from Philippians humbles me from my complaint. Philippians 3: “I want to know Christ—yes, to know the power of his resurrection and participation in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, ¹¹ and so, somehow, attaining to the resurrection from the dead. ¹² Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. ¹³ Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, ¹⁴ I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.”

What is “that” for which Christ has taken hold of me? For you? He died to take hold of my heart; He died to free my life from sin's bonds; died to bring me to His side. Am I living to take hold of His life, His heart? Lord, help these to be tears of joy that fall from my face.

You are Good

When the sun starts to rise and I open my eyes

You are good, so good

In the heat of the day with each stone that I lay

You are good, so good

With every breath I take in

I'll tell You I'm grateful again

When the moon rises high before each kiss goodnight

You are good

When the road starts to turn around each bend I've learned

You are good, so good

And when somebody's hand holds me up, helps me stand

You are so good

With every breath I take in

I'll tell You I'm grateful again

'Cause it's more than enough just to know I am loved

And you are good

So how can I thank You

And what can I bring

What can a poor man lay at the feet of a king

So I'll sing you a love song

It's all that I have

To tell You I'm grateful

For holding my life in Your hands

When it's dark and it's cold and I can't feel my soul

You are still good

When the world has gone gray and the rain's here to stay

You are still good

With every breath I take in

I'll tell you I'm grateful again

And the storm may swell even then it is well

You are good

So how can I thank You

And what can I bring

What can a poor man lay at the feet of a king

So I'll sing you a love song

It's all that I have

To tell You I'm grateful

For holding my life in Your hands

The Right Words.

His words, reaching to me from each page, especially now. His words, the only ones that can truly reach the hurt, the only words that fully know my heart and speak to it. And these words from an old hymn today, I heard them in my soul. I hope they speak to you too.

Jesus! What a friend for sinners!

Jesus! Lover of my soul;

Friends may fail me, foes assail me,

He, my Savior, makes me whole.

Refrain: Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Hallelujah! What a Friend!
Saving, helping, keeping, loving,

He is with me to the end.

Jesus! What a strength in weakness!

Let me hide myself in Him.
Tempted, tried, and sometimes failing,

He, my strength, my victory wins.

Jesus! What a help in sorrow!

While the billows o’er me roll,
Even when my heart is breaking,

He, my comfort, helps my soul

Jesus! What a guide and keeper!

While the tempest still is high,
Storms about me, night overtakes me,

He, my pilot, hears my cry.

Jesus! I do now receive You,

more than all in You I find.
You hath granted me forgiveness,

I am Yours, and You are mine.

Refrain: Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Hallelujah! What a Friend!
Saving, helping, keeping, loving,

You are with me to the end.

No Harder Road.

What is brave? When you can’t stand; when you wobble even on your knees, it’s that whisper of a prayer, the next beat of your heart when your body grows faint. I took a little step today. It felt like the smallest baby’s first tottering stumble forward. Yet it was the biggest step I’ve ever taken in my life. These have been days with no words to write, because the Lord has been writing on me. 

A friend reminded me, the road to the cross wasn’t easy. But our Jesus took those agonizing steps because there would be no healing without that road, without the pain. Sometimes, there is no easy way. And sometimes it is just the whisper of a prayer. But He hears it. The beat of our struggling heart, He strengthens, pours into with His love; breaths life into my soul just as He brought life into Adam. And I’m reminded of the promise that “all things work together for good.” All things aren’t good. All things don’t feel good. But He can make anything good. It’s been His skill set for centuries: turning captives into rulers, turning sinful hearts into His temple, turning nail pierced hands and death into life and joy and hope. And it’s this hope He breathes into me when all else trembles. It’s His hand I hold when all else is dark, and it’s this hope I look to until my faith becomes sight. And a God that is strong enough to carry a cross, is strong enough for anything you or I can lay at His feet.

It Is Well With My Soul

When peace like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to know,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Refrain:
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, with my soul,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ has regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.

My sin, oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!

For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pang shall be mine, for in death as in life,
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.

But Lord, 'tis for Thee, for Thy coming we wait,
The sky, not the grave, is our goal;
Oh, trump of the angel! Oh, voice of the Lord!
Blessed hope, blessed rest of my soul.

And Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.

Horatio Spafford