Who's in the Wheelchair?

I first saw this video of Team Hoyt and their father-son triathlete in 2008. It left an indelible impression on my mind so strong that when I came across the following paragraph on my computer tonight, I knew immediately the image I had in mind when I wrote--and had to go watch their inspirational story again.


I remember Dave, frustrated with Lyme disease, identifying with Rick in the wheelchair. I longed to be like the father, to have something I could work hard at and do that could make Dave feel free. In many ways, that desire kept me writing my book. And yet, I found that I too identified with Rick--and saw much of the father in Dave, to his surprise:

I know you see yourself in the wheelchair, and get frustrated at what you cannot do.  But I see you behind the wheelchair, running—and I am in the chair.  I don’t know how to run with compassion but you drive me there.  I don’t know how to swim the waters of selfless love—I drown in my flailing attempts—but with the Lord you carry me in your arms and lay me in the boat, and you swim and strain and pull me along.  I can’t balance on the wheels of caring for others but that you pedal for me, the wind joyously whipping through my hair at the speed—for you have time to stop, to look, to listen, to see the needs, and the desire that aches to meet them, and the hands and heart to reach out—while we with our rushing about to “live life” are truly in the chair, and you are running.  And if at times the going is very hard for you, it’s because you are pulling me too.

The Power of an Indestructible Life

Here's a free bookmark from me over on Jenn's Blogiversary Bash!

I remember the first time this verse in Hebrews 7:16 really stood out to me--that Christ is our priest by the power of an indestructible life. A priest forever; the "better hope" as it says in verse 19, through which we draw near to God. At a time when I felt very broken and used up, God nourished my soul with tender words, soul-strengthening words, powerful words--about his ministry to us and for us and in us, forever. Everlasting.

I needed a "better hope" that day. Life seemed hopeless and futile--and I even had fleeting thoughts about ending it. Thoughts that terrified me. I felt trapped--it seemed there was no way out. But there's always a way out or a way through, and we are never alone. He has put his name on us, we are his, forever. And life in his hands is never futile.

From Invisible Illness, Visible God, Day 65:

I was blown away because I realized that since Jesus is in me, then this power of an indestructible life is in me, and I could rest in that power. Something more powerful than my emotions, peace that passes understanding! And since we are in Christ—this peace is a sure refuge. I began praying that God would fill me with the power of an indestructible life so that I wouldn't want to destroy mine.

Strength. Surety. Life. His love sustains and feeds our souls.

Imagine—Jesus never, ever stops interceding for you, his beloved, his delight. He uses the greatest, most extraordinary power that exists on our behalf, to be our priest, our intercessor, our guarantee, our hope. He could condemn us and instead betroths us and unites us with him.

Indestructible life. Forever. That is the surety, the rock, of his covenant with us.

His mighty power encouraged me in my darkest days, and I pray that you also will draw strength from his power.

Why Do People Suffer? Is Pain Meaningless?

Most of us have asked the question, why do people suffer?  Why would God take Dave away from being a pastor and helping others, why do any of us go through suffering?

We all know the Sunday School answers, and they’re good and true answers. God is refining our character, or God is going to use it for good, or God is teaching us or training us. But it’s hard to really be satisfied with those answers because we can’t see the outcome like God can—we can’t evaluate that it’s worth it.  As if a servant should evaluate his master’s plans.

Why isn’t it enough for us to know that God is sovereign, he is good, he loves us, he’s in control? We think we know God…until trials come.  Then we realize, maybe we don’t know him as well as we thought.  If we knew Him, we would trust Him, draw near to Him, rely on Him.  We push Him away, but we think He turns away from us.

When we go through suffering, it’s usually not by choice—but Christ chose to endure great pain on our behalf. In suffering, we have the gift of seeing more deeply how much Jesus loves us. This God who sought us and gave up so much for us, won’t abandon us now.

Michael Card has a beautiful quote: 

“The great promise of Psalm 23 is not that we will be saved from the dark valley, but that the Lord, who is our Shepherd, will remain close beside us even though the darkness might obscure Him from our view.”

I think we have the mistaken perception that God is going to save us from trouble, but over and over again, that’s not what the word says. He does of course sometimes. But Isaiah 43:2 says

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze."

If you are going through the fire, it’s not because God has abandoned you—he is WITH you in the fire!

Ken Gire shares a story in his book, The North Face of God. A man named David and his wife couldn’t have children, so they adopted a beautiful 4-day-old baby. They were filled with hopes and dreams for this child, but soon found something was wrong. The baby would stiffen whenever they held him. As he grew, he was diagnosed with learning disabilities and psychiatric problems. One doctor told them, when the boy was about 11, that he’d be dead or behind bars by the time he was 18. The parents refused to believe it, and continued to pour heart and soul into loving and discipling this boy, determined to find help and avoid that outcome, they spent years crying out to God…but the son got into drugs and did end up in prison.

David had a friend who also had a son in trouble, and they talked often. Exciting things were happening at his friend’s church—God’s hand was moving, and people were coming to know Christ—and finally even his friend’s son was turning back to God. But nothing changed for David. And he told his friend he couldn’t stand to hear one more miracle of Jesus story. It was too painful.

So then, a group of people from church decided to meet with David and pray with him, and they prayed together every week for a year and a half. They became his lifeline.

He did a 40 day fast and sought the Lord in every way he knew how, but his only answer was silence.

One day David decided to go to the prayer room at church and stay there until he heard from God. He was broken and at the very end of his rope, he was desperate. He waited for 5 hours, and then he finally heard God speak. And this is what God said:

“If I never heal your son, If I never speak to you the way you want…can I still be your God? Will you still love me, still honor me, still serve me?”

So often we believe the lie that God must not really love me, or He would change this circumstance in my life. Sometimes, that’s not in God’s plan, and we may not get to know why. We may not even be able to understand why. 

Can he still be your God?

I could easily be consumed by asking Why? It’s a good question, we should ask it, but we don’t always get to know why. The lack of answers can leave us feeling bitter and defeated and unloved. Instead, my very wise husband Dave has encouraged me to ask two other questions:

Who is God? And, how will I respond?

God doesn’t change when we suffer. He is still all-powerful, all-loving, just, merciful, holy—and he still cares deeply for us. He doesn’t abandon us—he is walking with us. In fact, he’s closer than most of us ever imagine.

Remember the story Jesus told about how he’ll separate the sheep and the goats at the end of the age? And he tells the sheep that they visited him when he was sick and in prison, that they brought him food and drink when he was in need—and the sheep were confused.  “Lord, when did we do this?”

His answer shows that God doesn't merely see our pain; He says that "whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me." (Mt 25:40). That means…He is hungry, thirsty, a stranger, naked, sick, and in prison, along with us. When He says "never will I leave you, never will I forsake you," He means to impart a depth of love and grace and unity with our spirits that if we truly understood it, would take our breath away.

If that’s who God is…how will we respond? Isn’t he worthy of our all, even our suffering?

When I was younger, I used to think about how I was willing to live my life for God and give my all—never dreaming what might be required. He has come, asking for my all, asking for things dear to me like my husband’s health, and simple pleasures like going to church together. Good things, things I took for granted and never expected to give up—so how will I respond? I can kick and scream and throw a good ol-fashioned 2 year-old tantrum—and I’ve done that! Or I can lay down my life, like Romans 12:1-2 says, as a living sacrifice. God you are worthy.  

Romans 12:1 says, 

“I urge you, brothers, sisters, in view of God's mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God-- this is your spiritual act of worship.”

The pain in our lives is never meaningless. We may not know why, but we can ask God to be glorified in our lives. We can remember that Christ thought we were worth suffering for, when we go through our dark nights. He is certainly worthy of our suffering. 

My Olympic Dream (Two-Man Bob-a-Luge)

 So there I was at the Olympic reunion party, when I suddenly realized, “Hey, I’m an Olympian!”  Yup, I won a bronze medal in the two-man luge.  Well, actually it was a combination of luge and bob-sled as I remember it.

You see, I just happened to be at the Olympics (because, you know, people just show up there without reason), when this big burly guy comes up to me.  I think I knew him; he seemed familiar.  Apparently, something had happened to his buddy at the last minute, and he was in desperate need of a new partner if he was to compete.  Being the happy-go-lucky person that I am, I naturally said, “Sure!”  Hey, I've been sledding before, why not?  Two-man bob-a-luge?  Bring it on!

“You don’t have to do anything,” he said as we worked our way to the top of the slide, “You sit and I’ll do the running.”  So I curled up on the back of the sled while he grabbed the bar and ran, then hopped on, bob-sled formation on the luge-style sled.  We won the bronze!  It was a proud moment.

This was my dream the other night.  I wouldn't have made much of it (other than to note I’m probably watching too much Bob Costas—a fact easily confirmed every day in school when our kids break out in another rendition of the Olympic theme song!), but someone jokingly suggested I analyze it.  This time I didn't slide down the ice-covered track so quickly, but it came to me later that God is very like that big burly guy.  He’s familiar.  He sometimes asks us to do crazy things like the bob-a-luge.  He has the plan, the course is slick and sometimes dangerous with lots of twists and turns—but He’ll be in charge.  He provides the speed and energy, the steering, and the sled.  And since my face is buried in His back, I might not always know what’s ahead.

God doesn’t say that we must be the best, that we must win—He says, “Run in such a way as to get the prize.” (1 Cor 9:24)  He’s looking for our faithfulness: that we run with perseverance; that we don’t give up.

“Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last; but we do it to get a crown that will last forever.”  I Cor. 9:25

The muscle we strengthen, train, race with, is faith.

 “But by faith we eagerly await through the Spirit the righteousness for which we hope…You were running a good race. Who cut in on you and kept you from obeying the truth?”  Gal. 5:5, 7

The truth, the supporting ligament-thoughts are critical to our faith, just as they are to an Olympian.  What is this truth we must cling to, that gets clipped by lies when Satan storms in like a soon-to-be-disqualified short-track speed-skater and sends us sprawling into the boards on our backs?  Righteousness comes through the Spirit, and not by human effort (Gal. 3:3)

Sometimes we doubt the surety of God’s faithfulness, of His never-failing loving-kindness, that He truly doesn’t count our sins against us.  We unwittingly fill our minds with a guilt that condemns—sometimes we lay sprawled on the ice, convinced of our own inadequacy and not accepting the hand up God offers.

“But now he has reconciled you by Christ's physical body through death to present you holy in his sight, without blemish and free from accusation--if you continue in your faith, established and firm, not moved from the hope held out in the gospel.”  Col 1:22-23

This is our race, to firmly trust in the hope held out in the Gospel.  I think all of life requires Olympic level training for our faith—but chronic illness is surely an event that brings the necessity of that training to the forefront.

When I consider how my light is spent*
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide
Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent
To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, lest he returning chide;
"Doth God exact day-labor, light denied?"
I fondly ask; but Patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, "God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts' who best
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. His state
Is kingly. Thousands at his bidding speed
And post o'er land and ocean without rest:
They also serve who only stand and wait."
—John Milton

God doesn’t look at us as excess baggage when we ride with Him—He delights in us, and amazingly He shares the glory with us.  They also serve who only stand and wait.

“…The share of the man who stayed with the supplies is to be the same as that of him who went down to the battle. All will share alike.” 1 Samuel 30:24b. 

We finish the race, together.  And someday you’ll find yourself at that Great Reunion in the sky, and say with surprise, “Hey, I’m an Olympian!”

Still Running the Race, Merry


* Milton went totally blind in 1651 & wrote this ca. 1652.  By the way, the "one talent which is death to hide" is a reference to the parable of the talents & the servant who buried his talent instead of using it. What a struggle to want to use that talent instead, but be restricted. Also, "fondly" then meant foolishly, which makes more sense! (I fondly ask = I foolishly ask).


© copyright February, 2006

Awards Presentation!

Presentation of Awards for Invisible Illness, Visible God

I'm honored and humbled to receive a Bronze Medal for the Devotional Category of the Illumination Book Awards. My husband Dave has been disabled by an “Invisible” Illness for 13 years now (he was eventually diagnosed with chronic Lyme disease). In fact, I find it staggering that nearly one in two Americans has some kind of invisible illness—something they deal with on a daily basis that others can’t really see, whether it’s cancer, asthma, learning disabilities, anxiety, depression, Alzheimer’s disease, chemical sensitivities, or any number of other conditions.

Sometimes a diagnosis comes quickly, and other times we can search for years, trying to find out what’s wrong with ourselves or a loved one.  Either way, the answers can come as a crushing shock. One day our world comes to a screeching halt—but the rest of the world continues on, largely oblivious.

In some ways, many more of us have an “invisible illness.”  Not all hurts come with a diagnosis. Anyone who has lived with the pain of broken dreams, unmet expectations, the death of a loved one, regrets, fears, worries—has lived with a private pain that the world just can’t see.

But God sees. God understands. God cares. And Jesus continually intercedes and acts on our behalf with power.  He is:

…one who has become a priest not on the basis of a regulation as to his ancestry but on the basis of the power of an indestructible life…

~ Hebrews 7:16

When I first read this, I was blown away because I realized that since Jesus is in me, then this power of an indestructible life is in me, and I could rest in that power. Something more powerful than my emotions, a peace that passes understanding! And since we are in Christ—this peace is a sure refuge. This inspired me to write Invisible Illness, Visible God: When Pain Meets the Power of an Indestructible Life.

We are not powerless. 

Jesus is our priest on the basis of the power of an indestructible life—an immense power to overcome immense pain. On our own we drum up despair, depression, thoughts of death—and he comes to save us with life-giving power. God offers us the ability to walk through the flames and come out more beautiful. God enables us to choose life over death, and to choose love over bitterness. We are weak, but his power rescues us. He is the better hope by which we draw near to God.

Often we want the physical miracle, the visible one—and sometimes instead he makes himself and his love visible to us. Pain meets the Power of an Indestructible Life, full on, face to face—and God calls us to fix our eyes on him.

The power of an Indestructible Life

His love endures forever—Psalm 107:1

His faithfulness reaches to the skies—Psalm 108:4

His righteousness endures forever—Psalm 111:3

His salvation lasts forever—Isaiah 51:6

His covenant is everlasting—Ezekiel 37:26

He betroths us to him forever—Hosea 2:19

He puts his Name on us forever—1 Kings 9:3

His sanctuary is among us forever—Ezekiel 37:26

He lives with us forever—2 John 2

He will swallow up death forever—Isaiah 25:8

He reigns forever—Psalm 9:7

He gives us his Holy Spirit forever—John 14:6

His word stands forever—1 Peter 1:25

He remembers his covenant forever—Psalm 111:5

He is a priest forever, he has sworn!—Hebrews 7:21

Imagine—Jesus never, ever stops interceding for you, his beloved, his delight.  He uses the greatest, most extraordinary power that exists on our behalf, to be our priest, our intercessor, our guarantee, our hope. He could condemn us and instead betroths us and unites us with him.

Indestructible life.  Forever.  That is the surety, the rock, of his covenant with us.

His mighty power encouraged me in my darkest days, and I pray that you also will draw strength from his power.

Invisible Illness, Visible God: Illumination Bronze Medal Winner

Run to Get the Prize

" Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize.  Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever."

--1 Corinthians 9:24-25

With Bugler's Dream and Olympic Fanfare echoing in our minds for the next three weeks, we get to rejoice with the victories and groan with the defeats of athletes who have been preparing for years. They train mind and body to win a coveted prize, to push themselves to greater extents and discipline themselves to persevere through injuries and setbacks. Sometimes when one falls I feel a sympathetic pain in my knee or chest, sharing the impact with them. And when one overcomes severe odds, I can't help but feel my heart soar as they fly down their course or through the air, expressing freedom, speed, and artistry in the unique ways of their specific disciplines.

We, too, are in training. I'm meditating on Psalm 119 this month as I prepare for a study, and the Psalmist so eloquently expresses the passion and discipline we need as we train for our forever crown. His heart is fixed on God and his word--he rejoices, delights, and sets his heart on God's laws. God's statutes are his counselors, and God's goodness to him is his very life. When he is sucker-punched by life, he doesn't wallow, but keeps his focus--he knows the One to run to, the One who gives him strength and preserves his life--the one who sets his heart free.

Daily he does the active exercise that training and discipline require: he seeks the Lord and hides his word in his heart. He considers, chooses, learns, obeys, follows, praises, recounts the Lord's ways. He runs in the path of the Lord. His soul is consumed with longing for God's laws.

Does life seem mundane? Don't forget, we are in training, and we serve an amazing Lord. Be enthralled with him again. Does life seem overwhelming? Fix your eyes on the one who preserves your life when you are "laid low in the dust." Remember the one who answers, strengthens, opens our eyes, gives us life, and sets our hearts free. In him we truly soar.

Stop...and pray

Walking through my favorite nature preserve one day, I noticed...there were branches down over the path everywhere. Some small and easy to navigate...some much harder to cross. Here's one of my favorite spots:

Anna looks so small sitting on top! She wanted to walk the tree like a bridge over the creek! I talked her out of it.

It's hard to tell here, but it completely blocks the path--you either have to do the limbo under it (in ways that my back no longer bends!), crawl over, or walk around the roots.

This particular day, the sun made the grass glow on the other side, a sign of life and hope and growth beyond the dead and brittle branches. A reminder to stop and pray along the way. To set our minds on things above...and  not the things of earth that fill our time and block our path.

Even on the other side, I have to look back, as even now I look back at how God has worked in our lives, and how he walks with us through good times and hard. Sometimes I turn back about 20 feet later, and this massive obstacle seems so small in retrospect. The troubles that fill our lives now will one day look the same, will fade into the background and pale compared to God's glory. For now, these things are reminders to stop and pray, and look to him.

"Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is, seated at the right hand of God.  Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.  For you died, and your life is now hidden with Christ in God.  When Christ, who is your life, appears, then you also will appear with him in glory."

 - Colossians 3:1-4 

Perfection...or Joy?

I heard someone ask recently how we can be joyful when we keep messing up, when we keep sinning...when we struggle with perfectionism.

What an astute question!

Does joy depend on our ability to do things perfectly?  And if we could do that...would it truly give us joy?

Why do we make perfection a goal?  I can't speak for others, but in myself, I think one root is pride. Sometimes I don't even realize perfection is a goal of mine, until I experience that disappointment of sin or failure again. Then I see that expectation I had to be perfect. 

Another root is self-reliance. As a young Christian, I can remember thinking that one day I wouldn't mess up so much--maybe not even at all.  Although I can recognize the error in my thoughts now, I didn't see it then--but what I was really thinking was that one day I really wouldn't need Jesus. It sounds ludicrous to say such a thing! But that was the logical end of my train of thought.

I think part of the problem is that we don't fully embrace what we have in Christ. I used to come to the Lord's table with shame and guilt...I messed up again...repent, decide to do better.  I didn't come to commune with Christ (isn't that ironic--we call it communion but my focus was on me!).  I didn't come for my soul to be fed and nourished and strengthened. I didn't experience Christ's joy--the joy of the Lord is my strength! I didn't experience him rejoicing over me with singing. I didn't savor his undying love for me or revel in his boundless grace and mercy. 

I had moments of doing these things in my daily walk, but when I messed up, I didn't experience the fullness Christ has for us. I took my sin to the foot of the cross, and then I picked up the burden of perfecting myself as I left--instead of learning to live each moment in complete reliance on God, instead of digging deeper into his grace and love, instead of fully embracing how wide and deep and long and high and immeasurable his love and grace and mercy are.  I think we undervalue and underestimate what Christ has done, is doing, and will do in our lives in giving himself up for us and in living in us.

Our joy isn't in what we can do.  It's in our union with Christ. We "rejoice in the Lord," not in ourselves. In his glory, in his presence, with thanksgiving, with overwhelming awe, in his sovereignty, in his wisdom, in his power, in his love, in his mercy, in his forgiveness.

So when my eyes are on myself, on how I've sinned, how I've messed up...I take it to the Lord, I repent...but then I revel in Him. 

From Despair to Hope and Rest

Today I was reminded of a newsletter I sent nearly ten years ago now (May 2004), that has never made it to my new site here--so I thought I would repost tonight. Who knew Milne and Martin Luther could work so well together?

From Despair to Hope and Rest

By the time it came to the edge of the Forest, the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved more slowly.  For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, “There is no hurry.  We shall get there some day.”

—A. A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner 

On the first warm day of spring this year, I went out to my favorite forest preserve for some quiet reflection.  I followed the bark-chip-laden path, winding through the almost bare trees.  Here and there signs of spring dared to poke through the damp brown: a little green on the forest floor, a few buds, and patches of bright, happy blue-bells heralding the coming of warmer days.  I hiked around the bend when the brown gave way to a great grassy expanse that took my breath away: a new, spring green, a fresh-after-the-storm green, a glowing with dew-jewels green.  Draped around it the quiet stream beckoned.  “There is no hurry,” it seemed to whisper.

It reminded me of Pooh’s river, which draws a beautiful picture of growing up—and also a picture of our faith growing up, of trusting in God, of learning to rest in Him.  But I find many times that I am more like the “little streams higher up in the Forest, [going] this way and that, quickly, eagerly, having so much to find out before it [is] too late.”  I fight, I wrestle, I wonder why God doesn’t act sooner. Often, I reject His rest.  It is not the gift that I want.  I want change!  I want action!  I want it now! God offers instead the power, the strength to weather the storm, the deep rest of abiding in Him.

Martin Luther said,

“it’s not by reading or writing or speculating that one becomes a theologian; it is rather living, dying, and being damned that makes one a theologian.”  

I find in his words someone who understands the constant struggle, the testing of life, the questions that come, and the relief of knowing I’m not the only one.  This is the truth he realized when he read Psalm 22:1, later quoted by Jesus, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

When I struggle, I often feel as Paul did, hard pressed on every side.  I read the stories of Jesus healing so many, yet live with a husband God has chosen not to heal.  And then my children—how do you read story after story, “Jesus healed…Jesus healed…” and not feel slammed into the wall by the daily “no” you face when your chronic illness is not healed?  Do you hope God’s answer is “not yet?”  Do you wish for the relief of death?  Do you resignedly accept your “fate,” or do you continue to allow yourself to be emotionally beat up by unanswered prayers, hoping this time…  What kind of hope carries you through, carries you beyond?

Paul wrote in 2 Corinthians 4:8,

“We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down but not destroyed.”   And he wrote this only 3 chapters to the verse after proclaiming in 1:8, “ We do not want you to be uninformed, brothers, about the hardships we suffered in the province of Asia.  We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life.” 

How did Paul go from a deeply despairing man to one who did not despair, who was not crushed, who knew he was not abandoned, and that destruction was not his end?  He continues, “Indeed in our hearts we felt the sentence of death.  But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead.  He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us.  On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us, as you help us by your prayers…”

Paul had good reason to despair, who wouldn’t?  He was imprisoned, flogged, and

“exposed to death again and again.  Five times I received from the Jews the forty lashes minus one.  Three times I was beaten with rods, once I was stoned, three times I was shipwrecked, I spent a night and a day in the open sea, I have been constantly on the move, I have been in danger from rivers, in danger from bandits, in danger from my own countrymen, in danger from Gentiles; in danger in the city, in danger in the country, in danger at sea; and in danger from false brothers.  I have labored and toiled and have often gone without sleep; I have known hunger and thirst and have often gone without food; I have been cold and naked.  Besides everything else, I face daily the pressure of my concern for all the churches…”  2 Corinthians 11:23-28. 

He despaired—and then he relied on God, gained strength to go on, and found he did not despair.  This is the comfort we pass on one to another.  When we find a God so reliable, so trustworthy, so unmistakably loving and sovereign that we can turn to Him in the most severe trouble, fix our eyes and our purpose on Him, and believe Him when circumstances deny His existence, then we have found the secret of comfort.  And in our prayers and in our love, we can carry a battle-weary brother or sister into the presence of the God who heals us by His wounds.

The Psalmist cries out,

How long, O LORD? Will you forget me forever?
How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts and every day have sorrow in my heart?

And Isaiah calls back,

“Why do you say, O Jacob, and complain, O Israel, ‘My way is hidden from the LORD; my cause is disregarded by my God’?  Do you not know? Have you not heard? The LORD is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He will not grow tired or weary, and his understanding no one can fathom.  He gives strength to the weary and increases the power of the weak.  Even youths grow tired and weary, and young men stumble and fall; 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.” —Isa 40:27-31

You can almost feel the river growing, gaining strength as the Psalmist continues,

Look on me and answer, O LORD my God.
Give light to my eyes, or I will sleep in death;
my enemy will say, "I have overcome him,"
and my foes will rejoice when I fall.
But I trust in your unfailing love;
my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing to the LORD,
for he has been good to me. —Psalm 13

Winter is sometimes very long.  But spring is coming, and the love of our great and sovereign Lord is unfailing.  We know where we are going.  And there is no hurry when we rest beside the quiet stream, where He restores our souls.

Hoping in Him, Merry

We choose...not to lose heart

"Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart." 2 Corinthians 4:1

One thing that Dave and I have always tried to keep our eyes on is the thought of not looking back. No regrets. We can't change what's happened, and if we dwell on what can't be, it just leads to depression and despair. So we often look at each other and remind ourselves...enjoy what is. Do what we can with what we have. Don't look back--no regrets.

We don't want to miss what IS, what we DO HAVE because we're too busy looking at what we thought life would be like, or what 21st Century Americans think of as "normal" lives. We live in a world where discontent is sold continuously, but we choose to fight. We choose to not lose heart. God has given us these lives...and we want to make the most of them.

It's easy to lose sight of this, and both of us have been discouraged at times--even deeply depressed. But we are so blessed to have each other, and when one of us forgets, the other reminds us. So...I encourage you and pray for you today--don't look back at things you can't change. Live today.  No regrets. Don't lose heart. Keep looking to the Lord. Trust in him.

(Blogging for National Invisible Illness Week, September 9th-15th. What will you choose?)

National Invisible Illness Week is coming up!

Check it out. September 9th-15th:

"Illness Awareness Week is held annually in September and is a worldwide effort to bring together people who live with invisible chronic illness and those who love them."

Founder Lisa Copen (also the founder of Rest Ministries) encourages us that while we can't choose our illness, we CAN choose how to respond. It's so easy to focus on what we can't do, on the things that aren't fair, on the limitations, on unfulfilled dreams.  It's work to focus on doing what we CAN do. My husband is so inspiring in this. He does get down at times about what he can't do, but he sets a goal every day, and he's always looking for ways he can serve our family or encourage. He's a blessing to me!

Check out Founder and Author Lisa Copen's video, and consider uploading a photo about what YOU would like to choose (there's also a contest to win a free kindle!)

There are so many things we can choose! I can't wait to blog about some in the upcoming weeks.

Radio Interview...Take 2!

My interview has been rescheduled! On Monday, August 5th, 5-6 Eastern (4-5 Central), you can hear me on the Dr. Katherine Albrecht show. We'll be discussing issues of faith in tough circumstances and specifically the journey Dave and I have been on, and my recent book, Invisible Illness, Visbile God.

Katherine is a believer who has also suffered with cancer, so she understands what it's like to live with chronic illness.

"Katherine Albrecht is a dynamic radio personality, privacy campaigner, technology expert, and the author of several books and videos. Her nationally syndicated, daily radio talk show combines knowledge, eloquence, and a touch of irreverence with a passion for truth and freedom, earning her a devoted listener following worldwide."

I'm excited for this opportunity! This is a call-in show, so if you're able to call while I'm on, that would be wonderful! Here's information so you can tune in or listen later:

HOW TO HEAR THE SHOW
* "On demand" 24-hour listen line: 605-562-7703
    Show can be heard live, then looping until it is replaced by the next show

* Live and delayed broadcast to national radio affiliates 
   Saturday show is broadcast on-air to over 20 radio stations across the USA
   
* Streamed live on the web at:
     www.KatherineAlbrecht.com (From the "Radio Show" menu, click "Listen Live")
     www.GCNLive.com (click the Katherine Albrecht show from the rotating lineup)

* On-demand web link:
   http://www.gcnlive.com/mediaPlayers/odPlayer.php?program=drKatherine
   (show is available until replaced by the next show)  

*  Available as an MP3 audio file
    Archive descriptions and MP3 audio are posted on my website each evening
    www.KatherineAlbrecht.com
    (Click the "Archives and Guests" menu, then go to the show date)

*  Listener Call-In

855-KMA-RADIO  (855-660-4261) or Direct: 612-465-7369

Praying with Perseverance

[Reposted from 2003 from my previous blog]

And [Jesus] said: "I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven." Matthew 18: 3-4

I used to find my son's scribble marks in my journals; now I find my daughter's. How they try to be like us, and yet often I find that I need to be like them.

Take prayer. My daughter prays the same thing at least four times a day--every meal and bedtime. "Help my Daddy to feel better soon." There's comfort in her familiar prayer.

For a time I began to get bored with her prayer, and wondered, "should I encourage her to pray about other things, or try to change her prayer?" Yet then the deep realization came that what is foremost on her mind, the only thing in her mind worth repeating day after day, is never too familiar or boring to say again to the One who can answer...

"Then Jesus told his disciples a parable to show them that they should always pray and not give up." Luke 18:1

Her prayer is short and to the point--not long or drawn out as if her words have power in and of themselves, or as if she might stumble upon some magic way of eliciting a response from God. She is my hero, my prayer warrier. And where did she learn this simple prayer? Her brother taught it to her. "A little child shall lead them..."

I find sometimes that my faith falls short--that after I pray for awhile, I want to give up because I get tired of waiting for the answer--but my hero doesn't get tired. She enjoys being carried--and she knows the One who will carry the desires and concerns of her heart.

The Footprints poem says God is carrying us in the hardest times. To me that used to be a nice sentiment, something that good Christians imagine but not a truth to be experienced. But God has led me time and again to know and experience the deep truth of this.

The prayer He calls me to is to pour out my heart, all of my worries, my concerns, my fears, until God says, "Be still, and know that I am God." I used to stop praying at that point, but now I bask in prayer, knowing that He is God. I rest in His arms because He is sovereign, in control, His perfect plan is in action, I am secure, I am in the shelter of His wings. That's when He begins to speak to me. That's when I am filled by Him.

I used to be afraid to seek His presence because I was afraid of hearing more silence. I thought, my faith is too fragile to handle any more silence like God's apparent silence in response to my prayers. It is better to imagine God than to seek Him and be disappointed. I mistook God's silence for rejection instead of His beckoning call to seek and pursue Him, and I missed out on knowing the beauty of when God does answer.

Sometimes I break down and tell God I don't have the strength to pursue Him and that I need Him to come meet me where I am. He has always answered that prayer over time, and then calls me again to seek after Him.

Have you grown weary of bringing some request before God? Maybe He is calling you to bring it again, then lay it at His sovereign feet and soak in the peace of His presence. I don't know how or when God will answer your fervent prayer, but I know that He suffered greatly on our behalf to enable us to bring any and every care to Him--and that He shares in our pain because He loves us more deeply than we can imagine. 

Sometimes it's scary to me to allow God to enter into my pain, sometimes I'm afraid to tell Him about my anger at Him and or to relinquish that anger to Him. But I find when I go through that process--and it can take a long time--that He does indeed carry me.

Seeking again to rest in His arms, Merry 

Be Stumped!

The great promise of Psalm 23 is not that we will be saved from the dark valley, but that the Lord, who is our Shepherd, will remain close beside us even though the darkness might obscure Him from our view.

—Michael Card

I wrote this entry back in 2005 on a previous platform, and thought it was worth reposting. 

This June marks five years since Dave became disabled. People sometimes ask me if I know why God is allowing Dave to be incapacitated for so long. The question leaves me—well—stumped! It’s not that I can’t imagine what possible reasons God might have. God’s developing our character. God’s going to use it so Dave can be a better pastor or a better comforter. God’s going to use it to help someone else…

I believe all of those are true, and yet, without the benefit of hindsight, of seeing how God will use it—the answers fall flat. They provide hope for a season, but then days, weeks, months, years become long. Still we meet with a silent God. A God obscured by dark times. What is He doing?

"I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds."

—John 12:24

In the Motherwise Bible study, Author Denise Glenn tells a story about being like that kernal of wheat—how hopeful and precious she felt in the Maker’s hand, and then how dark and lonely life became when she was "buried" in the ground. What was God doing? Why was He abandoning her?

God uses many parables to help us understand. We are building blocks, being built together into a dwelling for God, unimaginable! Built on the "Living Stone," Christ. A costly Heavenly city with walls of precious gold. Gold that is purified by fire, formed by pressure and time and painstaking craftsmanship. As are we.

Or, we are the branches, and God the heavenly gardener, cutting back what was already fruitful (and we ask, "God, this doesn’t make any sense! Wasn’t I doing what you wanted?")—so that it will be more fruitful. Pruning sounds innocuous enough until you look at the extent to which some plants are cut back. Grapevines, for example, are cut to stumps, and afterward look dead, lifeless—what could possibly grow from those? And yet by mid-summer they are filled with lush, tantalizing, abundant fruit.

This has been a year of pruning for me, of darkness, quiet, and not much writing. It’s good to be stumped—to be cut back so far as to have nothing to say, to offer, to do. To have to lie dormant in the soil. To need to be molded by pressure and by fire.

We don’t think it’s good because we look at today, we like the finer things this world has to offer—and we lose sight of God’s character. He’s good when we hurt. He’s near when we can’t hear or feel him. He protects us when darkness obscures.

"When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze."

—Isa 43:2

Where is God in the fire? He’s there. Our imagination is so finite, our vision so limited, it’s hard for us to comprehend until we look back and see, oh, He was there, He brought us through, and oh, His purpose was pure and holy and God can be glorified.

It feels like the waters sweep over us and the flames burn—and yet they burn only the dross of this life that we are so attached to. The pure gold, the REAL US—this will come forth, shining, beautiful, precious—worthy of being united with God—incomprehensible!

But it’s a done deal, for Jesus, in His own dark valley, said, "It is finished." God calls us holy, righteous, blameless in His sight—and we wonder and worry, how can this be? Imagine, God has us mystified! Yes, imagine, that we must do, must strive to get our minds around what the God of all time and space, of everything and nothing (for even nothing obeyed Him and became something!), is trying to communicate to us. And if we only comprehend a tiny fraction, and help a few others along the way, our time is well spent.

Fall to the ground. Walk through the fire. Be stumped. And then be filled with the rejuvenating, nourishing, incredible life of Jesus who bears fruit through ones such as us.


What is it for? His glory. That’s the easy question! Why does He allow us to partake in His glory? That’s a mystery for the ages—and yet again for His glory.

God Gives More Than We Can Handle

Ever feel like God has given you more than you can handle?  You're in good company...and God offers us real hope:

We were under great pressure, far beyond our ability to endure, so that we despaired even of life. Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead.

~ 2 Corinthians 1:8b-9

“God won’t give you more than you can bear,” is a popular Christian sentiment, meant to encourage the person who is suffering or experiencing some trial. Yet when your world is falling apart, it does not encourage; it brings uncertainties and a sense of failure—after all, if we can’t handle what we’re facing, what does that say about our faith and our God?

To me this thought both denies reality and waters down God’s power in our lives. It encourages us to be stronger on our own, and to believe there is something wrong with our faith or we could handle our pains better.

The reality is, there are often things in this life that are so awful, terrible, complicated, overwhelming, or painful that they are, indeed, beyond what we can endure. Paul, famous for his joy in the midst of suffering, the man who sang in prison after being beaten, admitted the hardships that he and his companions bore were far beyond their ability to endure, and despaired. Sometimes we will too.

We can stop striving to be spiritual giants who can bear anything "with God's help." Help is for the hard times only, for getting past that rough spot until we can do it on our own again. We were not made to handle things on our own. Relying on God doesn't ever end. It's a continual, daily process of relinquishing self to God. It's continual communion with him.

(excerpted from Invisible Illness, Visible God: When Pain Meets the Power of an Indestructible Life, day 57.)

God Sightings

Ever have something happen that just makes you realize God had his hand in things?  I don't know why that surprises me, but I confess it still does.  This week I had two things happen.

First, unbeknownst to me, the registration for my business fell down and landed in my recycle bin. It made it all the way to the curb, and then we had a big storm that left items strewn all over the neighborhood--we had a milk jug under the car, papers beyond the garage, cups in the flower beds...but the registration landed face up, neatly just to the side of the sidewalk as if God laid it there on purpose where I would see it.  "Hey, don't we need that?" my husband asked as he walked past.  (It's now dried and hung in a frame--we'll know if it falls again!)

Then, I got a call from a dear friend from the past--we exchange occasional emails but haven't talked since we worked together about fifteen years ago.

"Hi Merry!"
"Hi!"  (We're so "last century" and don't have caller ID, so I never know who's on the line...)
"It's ____!"

I wracked my brain, trying to think if there was someone from church by that name that I should know, but the only woman I could think of was my friend.  Her next words jolted me back to the conversation:

"You called me."
"I did?  I...don't think I did!"
"Your name is on my caller ID."
"Really?  I'm not sure I even have your number."  I started looking to see if I did, and if I could have somehow miss-dialed a number earlier.

We talked for a few minutes about my kids and her grandkids and hung up.  Later that day, she called again.  "No, REALLY.  Your name and number showed up on my caller ID, that's the only way I have your number.  I think this is a God thing and that I'm supposed to be praying for you.  What in the world is going on there?!"

Truth be told, we've had a crazy 6 weeks here.  My daughter and I both got sick, my husband had hives, the water heater broke, we flooded part of our downstairs and had to have the reclamation company come with fans for days (horrible smell & noise for my husband especially) and cut out part of the drywall (things are still torn up and we have stuff all over the living-room & garage), then I got sick again, then my husband was in the hospital overnight, then my daughter got sick again, plus trying to finish the book...So it has been a little chaotic here!

So, she and I had a dear conversation. She shared more about what's going on with her (no picnics there either with surgeries and wound management, but her church has been so encouraging and faithful in prayer and she feels blessed by them).  And she emphasized again that she would pray for us.

I was so happy she called and marveled for a few minutes.  But at the same time, fear set in.  God's never put my name on someone's caller ID before.  What could it mean?  Was something even worse about to happen after all that's been going on lately?  Why do we need prayer that badly?

Silly, faithless, untrusting thoughts. What made me jump to those conclusions instead of thinking maybe, just maybe, God wanted to lift my burden by sending her to call me and pray for me?  I'm still so prone to think the worst of God, and here he demonstrated his love for me, visibly, again.  Stop.  Bask in my love.  I'm here with you and just wanted to remind you of that again today.  

The beautiful thing about his second demonstration is that it wasn't accomplished alone.  He chose to work through my friend.  What if she hadn't called?  What if she had been busy and thought I'd call back later and eventually forgot?  What if the moment had passed?  No.  She saw, she responded, she felt it was important to call--not once but twice--so that I would really hear God through her. I didn't hear the first time, but the second...the second I heard the urgency mingled with love in her voice.

Stop.  Rest.  Bask.  Know me, he beckons to us.  That's a message God has laid on my heart throughout these years of Dave's illness and as I wrote Invisible Illness, Visible God.  He reveals himself.  She was faithful, and I saw God again.

When has God used you to reach out to someone and encourage them?  Or when have you seen God recently?  I'd love to hear your stories!

The Miracle

Do not pray for easy lives, pray to be stronger men.  Do not pray for tasks equal to your powers, pray for powers equal to your tasks. Then the doing of your work will be no miracle, but YOU shall be the miracle.

~Phillips Brooks

That elusive word. Healing. 

How often do we pray for it, long for that miracle, that touch from God’s hand that so assures us he is real, he loves us, hasn’t forgotten or rejected us. "Hope deferred makes the heart sick."

So how do we live without our deepest longings fulfilled? 

We give them to God. Pray that he will use them and be glorified through them—whether he changes them,
fulfills them or leaves them as they are—longings, unfulfilled.

What can God do with brokenness, with emptiness? 

We say we believe God can do more through them than through our strengths, and yet none of us want pain and suffering. Why not? Why, if God can do more through our trials and troubles would we not embrace them, not welcome them as if welcoming the very presence of God? Come, God, and work through me—do what I alone cannot do.

We long for the eradication of pain, and not wrongfully so. But perhaps sometimes we are so focused on making that our goal that we miss the gentle whisper when God visits. The gentle whisper Elijah heard on Mt. Horeb when he was filled with fear for his life and a world of hurt, wondering if anyone else was left who loved the Lord.

Perhaps you’ve lived through the storm, the earthquake, the rumblings and terror, and God has been in none of them—but have you waited for the whisper? Listened for it, knowing it’s coming? He will come.

Maybe if God is not changing our circumstances, He wants to change us instead. 

Maybe he is calling us to be the miracle.

See also Stories of Hope

Blind Landings - Olympian Faith

Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing 

love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed," says the
LORD, who has compassion on you. (Isaiah 54:10)

I love watching the Olympics. My heart leaps hurdles with a good performance and
dives in agony when an athlete falls. My eyes were glued to the flying high-bar
performers, and the incredible men’s flares on the pommel horse. I marvel how
anyone can jump off the ground and do a double somersault with a twist.

Then there were the tiny pixies performing perilous feats on a four-inch bar that I
couldn’t even hope to attempt on the ground! "Look at her toss her head back," one
announcer said. "That’s an added degree of difficulty because she can’t see the
beam." Indeed many gymnasts performed a variety of blind landings with confidence
and poise. Though they could not see the beam, they knew exactly where it was as
they somersaulted, twisted and turned.

I find life, too, is full of blind landings. Circumstances pull our heads back or leave us
tumbling through the air, hoping we’ll land safely, though landing at all seems a
perilous journey.

Where do athletes find their confidence? They train. They accept instruction from
their coaches. They focus their minds. And when they fall, they get up again.

Where is our confidence? Proverbs 3:26 says the Lord will be our confidence. We
sometimes fall, but in Christ we have a certain landing spot. 1 John 4:16 says that we
rely on the love God has for us. While the balance beam is only 4" wide, the width of
God’s love is boundless.

Hebrews 4:16 declares that we can approach God with confidence, knowing we’ll
find mercy and grace in our time of need. Christ gives us His righteousness, and "the
effect of righteousness is quietness and confidence." (Isaiah 32:17)

This last word for confidence means a place of refuge—both the fact and the feeling
of safety. Do we dwell in that refuge? I have to confess that I only do sometimes.
God never wavers, and I am always truly safe in Him, but sometimes I forget.
Sometimes I neglect the disciplines of being in training. I don’t work to focus my
mind. My faith becomes flabby instead of continuing to seek God.

But God is a fortress, a refuge, a place where we find rest, a God whom we can
trust. "So we say with confidence, ‘The Lord is my helper; I will not be afraid. What
can man do to me?’" (Hebrews 13:6)

You might answer, "Man can do an awful lot to me!" Here I think the King James
Version is helpful, as it translates this passage, "I will not fear what man shall do to
me." Why? Because God, and not this world, is my refuge. This echoes David’s
proclamation in Psalm 27:3 that "Though war break out, even then will I be
confident." Solid. Steadfast. Unwavering on the beam of God’s love.

Perhaps your confidence has faltered from a fall. It’s ok. Get back up. We can be
"confident of this, that He who began a good work in you will carry it on to
completion until the day of Christ Jesus." (Phil. 1:6) This is the verse I cling to when I
can’t understand what God is doing in Dave’s life. No illness or sin issue or failure or
tragic life circumstance can thwart this plan of God’s. The "confidence" in this verse
means to rely by inward certainty. To believe.

Confidence really unwraps the word "faith" for us. So often we think faith is like
hoping there might be a place to land sometime. It’s shrouded in uncertainty. But faith
truly is confidence; it’s "being sure of what you hope for, and certain of what you do
not see." It is coming to God, believing "that He exists and that He rewards those
who earnestly seek Him." (Hebrews 11:1, 6)

God is coming again; this world is not all we live for. Our reward is in heaven. Let’s
diligently seek Him like an athlete in training. Let’s fix our eyes on Him, listen to wise
counsel—and when we fall, get up again.

We live in a world that can be shaken, a world where mountains crumble and fall into
the sea, a world of wars where we can be besieged. What we have faith and
confidence in, what we rely on must be stronger than this world. In God we have a
love so sure that the world can literally fall apart, and His love is still real, immovable,
ever present. We are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken from a God who
cannot be shaken. Have confidence in Him. Rely on His love for us.

May we be solid. Steadfast. Unwavering on the boundless beam of God’s unfailing
love.


Read more Stories of Hope