Faith

Jenna’s Journals | 1998 10.23

Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing to your ears, my God and King. 

SEA OF SOULS

Silhouetted against the starlit sky, a lone boat forged its way through the sea of corpses in the frigid Atlantic waters. The dim flashlight scanned the faces of the frozen bodies, searching for a sign – any sign of life, while a lone voice called from within the boat: “can anybody hear me? Are any still alive?” The waters were unusually still as the reality of the situation struck the heart of the sailor. “We’ve come too late.” Of the hundreds of bodies that were once kept alive only by the hope that the “light in the distance” – the glowing lanterns of the nearby lifeboats, would return and find them living, only a few were saved. 

Only one boat had returned. The rest had remained in the near-distance: listening as the crying souls were silenced by the cold air, listening as baby’s cries  diminished with the passing of time; watching as thrashing bodies were stilled by the coldness of death, watching as bodies slipped away from all they once clung to and disappeared forever into the black abyss of the sea. 

Lord – I feel the weight of this spiritual truth in my heart and yet I fear it. Those of us who are saved have been unwilling to return to the mass of dying souls and search for those who are waiting for salvation. Will we watch as they fight the futile battle alone – knowing we have the only salvation available? Will we listen as they cry to the barely visible light in the distance, and will we not draw near to them and enter the mass of spiritual corpses to rescue the one living? 

Let us not return too late. Let us not wait too long. Let us not rest in the comfort of our salvation while the masses are drowning. 

Lord I need you to transfer your heart to me! I am near to realizing the dire situation of the unsaved, yet my heart has not fully accepted the weight of their reality or of my responsibility. I am distracted from seeking first your kingdom. Lord make my reluctant heart willing. 

I am 25. Yet who knows how “old” I truly am because you could take me or return at any time. I NEED, desperately WANT – You to intervene in my life and make me a vessel of your hope and light to the perishing. I’ve lived too long and wasted too much time already. 

Change me now. Let your 25th birthday gift to me be a changed heart and changed actions in line with your call. This all sounds pretty and poetic on paper, but in the reality is blood and guts. Let me follow through in action what you’ve poured out through me on paper.

When Dreams Die Young

We never thought our dreams would come through our wounds. Those dreams lay shining before us, immediately within our grasp, or so we thought. Maybe Joseph felt the same.

His own brothers sold him into captivity. The traders who bought him carried with them balm and myrrh from Gilead to be sold in Egypt, entirely unaware that those healing spices were now joined by a man who would bring healing to his generation during a time of severe famine. And this man’s journey would foreshadow a greater, eternal savior who would bring healing and salvation to all.

Do we realize that sometimes we, too, must be broken to bring healing?

Joseph likely didn’t realize this when he first received his dream—that he would have to be broken.

Broken by the hatred of his brothers.

Broken by separation from his family.

Broken in slavery.

Broken as a man falsely accused.

Broken through years in prison, though innocent.

Broken year after year as he waited until his dream was almost forgotten.

Yet God makes everything beautiful in its time. And so he did with Joseph, raising him up from the heap of ashes to a prominent place. Positioning him to save a people from certain death.

And through the lineage of those saved would come a greater savior who would suffer death on a cross to save us from sin and to defeat death through his resurrection.

“By his wounds we are healed,” we cry. And this is truth. God can heal everything from broken hearts to broken bodies. And yet, sometimes His healing comes in a different way. And dreams can only be resurrected after they’ve first been buried.

“Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it remains but a single seed.”

There’s a deeper faith that understands we are also called to be like Jesus. And because He was wounded we, too, may be wounded for a season. Is a student above his teacher? If Jesus suffered, so we may be called to the same.

Of course, our brokenness would never come to the point of bringing salvation, as He did and alone can do. But maybe our brokenness comes to a degree that we might share in pouring his healing balm on those in need.

And as we bleed through our wounds an element of His healing is brought to our own generation. A deeper healing.

Who knows how our own wounds may be used to bring healing to others?

God works miracles in unexpected ways. He is all-powerful and can certainly bring immediate healing, as he often does. Yet his greater miracles come when he brings light from darkness, good from evil, and healing from our wounds. Only God can bring glory from ashes.

Photo Credit: by Lichtmagnet from Pixabay

The Sharp Knife of an Unexamined Life

Blog_SunriseAtLakePiru

The world was riveted this week by the story of a young actress whose life was cut short by a tragic drowning accident. What was expected to be a beautiful day swimming with her young son on a scenic lake in California sadly turned out to be her last day on earth. And she has become yet another somber reminder of how very fragile life is.

I’m not sure exactly what drew me to follow this story. I had not heard of this actress prior to reading the news headlines, but something about her four-year-old son found alone in the pontoon boat cut to the heart. Beyond that, I’m sobered by the thought of how suddenly life can come to an end—even for those that seem to have all the beauty, fame, talent and riches the world so desires.

One of her final tweets, dated days before the accident, read: “No matter the year, circumstance, or strifes [every day] you’re alive is a blessing. Make the most of today and every day you are given. Tomorrow is not promised.”

Years prior, she sang a song titled “If I Die Young.” The lyrics speak of “the sharp knife of a short life.” How prophetic these words have become.

Yet I would venture to say that there’s a knife which cuts sharper than that of a short life.

The philosopher Socrates was quoted to say, “An unexamined life is not worth living.” I would call this, “the sharp knife of an unexamined life.”

A life gone too soon is most certainly tragic. But a short life lived fully, with purpose and eternity in mind, is not as tragic as a long life lived without meaning or thought.

We are created for a purpose. We’re here to accomplish something only we can accomplish, for the benefit of our generation and generations to come. And God has offered the hope of eternity though the death and resurrection of his son Jesus to all who would accept this invitation.

To live without knowledge of our creator’s wonderful plan for our lives—and to live without eternity in view, is both futile and foolish.

I know nothing of the life and legacy of the actress who so suddenly lost her life. But I do know many Hollywood icons tend to live their lives for what is fleeting: the accolades of men, the transience of beauty, the lure of material gain. And most give their souls to preaching false gospels so they can earn these momentary rewards that will only fade with time.

Examining my own life, I know I don’t want to live chasing the wind. I don’t want my legacy to be something only of temporal, earthly value. I want it to last beyond eternity.

There is a life that is truly life, which can only be found in relationship with the author of our lives. He has shown us that following his design for life leads to abundant life. And he’s created us to leave a legacy that will outlast our lives on earth. And more important, for those who believe, for those who would receive his gift, he has promised an eternity where there is “no more death, mourning, crying or pain.”

Our life and its outcome is well worth the investment of examining ourselves, of searching to see if we are truly living “a life worth living.”

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

 

Photo Credit: Sunrise at Lake Piru by Jeff Turner, labeled free to use or share on flickr.com

Holding Our Breath

LightThroughWater_PixabayMy daughter always preferred wading to an underwater experience. When she was little, she tended to gravitate to zero-depth pools. Even now, once in, she’d rather walk head-above-water than go deep, though she has grown in courage over the years.

The last few summers, she’s experimented with going under. This usually involved plugging her nose and puffing her cheeks, followed by a hesitant bow into the water that lasted a few seconds at most. By the time she was finally comfortable going under for more than a minute, the pools were closing for the season. I know it’s just a matter of time before she’s fully at ease underwater.

As the summer approaches, we’re preparing for fresh opportunities, and until then we’ll begin to practice holding our breath. After all, it seems like that’s all we’re doing lately…holding our breath. Waiting for this pandemic to end so we can come up for air and breathe once again.

In less than a month, our world has changed in drastic ways. Nothing is as it was, and we wonder if anything will be back to normal once it’s through.  We wonder when we’ll breathe that sigh of “we’ve made it through, we’re out of the deep.” And we mournfully remember those who took their final breaths in the process.

It would be a fearful time, if I did not know the one who holds my breath.

Last year, long before the pandemic hit, my dad took his final breath this side of heaven. In the days before he passed, I sat at his bedside singing hymns. When he had the strength, he’d lift his fragile hand as if to say, “I’d sing with you if I could.” When I shared scripture, he’d nod faintly in agreement. Until he was too weak to move at all. The last night I spent in his hospital room, he spoke the last words I’d hear him say to me. “Thank you.” He went to hospice soon after, and he died minutes after we’d surrounded him with songs of praise.

For us, it was a painful loss. But I imagine him arriving in heaven as one emerges from the deep, taking a glorious breath of untainted air.

And seeing him in his last hours has dissolved my fear with the confidence of knowing there’s one greater who holds my breath. The God who created heaven and earth breathed life into my lungs and new life into my spirit. His thoughts for me outnumber grains of sand, and he knows the number of my days. So even now, as our world is shaken, I will not fear.

I know who hold my life. I know who holds my future. I know who holds my destiny. And I know who holds my breath.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.” (Psalm 46:1-3)

 

Photo Credit: LightThroughWater_Pixabay_labeled free to use or share on Google Images

What We Don’t Always See

Blog_WeavingLoomMy seven-year-old son has a strong sense of justice, at least when he’s not the one whose actions are in question. He’s quick to report any offense of which he sees himself victim. And often he’s compassionate enough to stand up when his friends face potential mistreatment.

The other day, he decided to call me to the bench while he stood judge and jury. Why, he wondered, did Daddy and I have two fans in our room when he didn’t have any? On this unseasonably warm spring day, it seemed a fair question. Maybe, just maybe, we were withholding from him. And maybe we loved ourselves a little bit more.

Except the aspiring lawyer overlooked one key piece of evidence: the air conditioner in his own room that was clearly not present in ours.

Yes, what he did not see was that Mommy and Daddy decided he should enjoy the cool comfort afforded by that air conditioner while we took the room without. We chose to love him enough to give him the blessing of a restful night of sweat-free sleep while we often bake in the rising heat, even with two fans. When he finally understood, his accusations came to a swift halt.

Now I know that for most of the world, air conditioning itself is a luxury of dreams. So to say we’ve sacrificed for our son is a little extreme. In the overall scheme of things, this is just one small way we’ve put our children before ourselves.

But the situation did remind me a little of myself. How often I come to God with accusation in my heart, questioning his love because things did not go as I expected. How often I ignore the sacrifices he’s already made for me, all because I’m so focused on what I want and don’t have.

Oh, the things we don’t always see.

Not only has God given us life and breath. Not only has he given us a hope and a future. But he gave his only son that “whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.” We’ll never fully know the extremes he went to that we would know his love and receive his life.

And beyond that, he’s always and ever “working everything for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose”. He never sleeps. Every detail of our lives, woven into a perfect tapestry because of his infinite love.

What we don’t always see is the other side of the tapestry. We’re so focused on the loose strands so evident from this side of eternity, we miss the work of the master artist that will show itself beautiful in its perfect time. Abba, father…open our eyes. Help us to see. And forgive our ingratitude.

“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (I Corinthians 13:12)

 

Photo Credit: weaving hands | on a loom in the iron age | Hans Splinter | Flickr

Not Afraid

Blog_MountainGloryThere’s something far worse than a deadly pandemic. It consumes more quickly, reaches farther. And it kills on a whole different level.

It’s called fear.

Fear begins by infiltrating our minds, methodically working its way to target our hearts.

If we allow, it will steal our future, and possibly our very lives.

These days it’s easy to get caught in the grip of fear. Leave the news channel on all day. Read the headlines. Listen to every alarming broadcast. Soon enough, you’ll fall victim.

Of course, we don’t want to be blind to what’s going on around us. We don’t want to be ignorant of world events. And we certainly need to be aware so we can respond with compassion.

But if we’re not careful, panic will overwhelm us and choke our breath more than any virus ever could.

When faced with the threat of death by fiery furnace, the three young Jewish victims spoke boldly to their tyrannical persecutor, “…we do not need to defend ourselves before you in this matter. If we are thrown into the blazing furnace, the God we serve is able to deliver us from it, and he will deliver us from Your Majesty’s hand. But even if he does not, we want you to know, Your Majesty, that we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold you have set up” (Daniel 3:16-18)

Even in times when I feel afraid, fear is overcome by the knowledge that my God can rescue me. He has a history of coming through in the most impossible of circumstances. Yet even IF he didn’t come through as expected, I have a greater hope that goes beyond the here and now.

Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. suspected his life was nearing its end when he spoke to a weary crowd in Memphis, Tennessee. “We’ve got some difficult days ahead,” he declared. “But it really doesn’t matter now, because I’ve been to the mountaintop…Like any man, I would like to live a long life. But I’m not concerned about that now. I just want to do God’s will…I’ve seen the Promised Land…And I’m happy tonight. I’m not worried about anything. I’m not fearing any man. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord.”

He was killed the next day.

How could a man whose life was in imminent danger speak with such great confidence?

He knew of a greater Promised Land.

God is able to rescue us from the worst of circumstances. He is mighty to save. And YET…

When our purpose here is fulfilled and it comes time to breathe our final breath, there is a greater hope that lies beyond this earthen soil. Those who have placed their hope in the promise of Jesus Christ know that our last breath here ushers us into a place where there’s nothing left to fear.

And knowing this, we can live without fear.

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

Joy. And pain.

Blog_SunAndRainWhen my friends share stories of the joys and labor-pangs accompanying childbirth, I can only offer a blank stare in return. My journey to motherhood did not involve the physical pain that characterizes the hospital labor room. And while I was spared the typical ordeals of delivery, I can say the emotional and spiritual travail that come with adoption equal and possibly out-measure the challenges faced in the average neonatal ward.

Whatever the path by which one arrives at parenthood, all share very similar tribulations when it comes to parenting. No heart is immune to the ache of love, the raw desire for our children to grow and live to their fullest potential. The exploits and outcomes of child rearing can be summarized in two words.

Joy. And pain.

The Bible speaks of a time of great tribulation come upon the earth, equating the related events to birth pangs.

We have a heavenly Father who adopts those who accept his offer of forgiveness. He loves us to the point of dying for us. And he uses any and every circumstance to birth the best in us and through us. Often that means allowing trying events to awaken a remembrance within us that a greater glory is yet to come in our eternal home with him.

The ultimate glory is not in the here and now.

And so, as it is written, comes “nation rising against nation, and kingdom against kingdom…famines and earthquakes in various places…an increase of wickedness.” Calamity upon calamity. Hatred and persecutions. The full outcome of human will independent of God. And love grown cold.

These things must come, it says.

They. Must. Come.

A woman must endure the pains of labor to experience the joy of holding a newborn baby.

And the world must travail that greater things would come to birth.

Joy. And pain.

Our Father desires that none perish and all come to repentance. What circumstances will bring lost, treasured souls into the adoptive care of our loving father? What will bring our own souls closer to him than ever before?

And what tribulation must come to bring us to the fulfillment of the ultimate promise—that of an everlasting home in which “he will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away” (Revelation 22:4).

 

Photo Credit: Rain, River, Sun from Wallpaper Flare, labeled on Google Pics as free to use or share