His Lovingkindness is better than life

 

Psalm 23:6. "Surely goodness and lovingkindness shall follow me all the days of my life..."

I took an afternoon recently to document all God has done in my life in the last four years.  Many of you have prayed for Megan over the last four years, that God would have mercy on her and relieve her of the pain of her constant headache.  This headache began one morning at the beginning of her sickness with mono, and never went away.  It hasn't responded to medication, and we haven't found a cause for it.  We have gotten a name for it, New Daily Persistant Headache.  Not that that has been very helpful, but it has shown us that there are others.

So I spent an afternoon, and my hand flew through the pages, writing an account of the faithfulness of my God.  I can see some of what he's done in Megan's life, and I see so many things He's done in my life.  Sitting in a little coffee shop that used to be a Turkish bath, I had to keep wiping tears away that fell involuntarily as I recounted all the lessons I have learned and the ways God has used Megan's suffering to change her mother.  

It feels bad to even say it--that God has used her trial so greatly; as if it has been worth it that she has borne up under four years of pain for my growth.  But on the contrary, God in His mercy has used it in all of our lives, and submitting to his sovereignty has not been willingly, as much as a realization that I have no other choice than to submit.  Like Peter, I have asked, "Lord, to whom shall I go?  Only YOU have the words of life."

At every turn I have felt my faith tested.  With every new inquiry and hope of maybe this is the solution, maybe this will be her healing.  We did tell her at the beginning "No matter what heals you, we will not hold on to that thing or medication or treatment.  We will know that Jesus is the One who healed you.  When healing comes, it will be coming directly from His hands."

I took time to write these things down because she has had some relief as of late.  She has had periods of time where her head has not hurt.  That is a new thing for her.  Almost too good to be true.  As I write, she has had several days that are back to normal, back to constant pain. 

I had this thought recently: "What if you were relieved like you had what you wanted, before you got it?" I could picture what it would be like to have that: to have Megan completely done with pain, among several other things I desperately hope for.  I could picture the relief I would feel, having gotten what I hoped and prayed for.  "What if I had that relief before the thing happened?" Well, I guess that would look a lot like I think faith should look.  After all, isn't faith "the assurance of things not seen"?  For some reason, this helped me pinpoint my anxiety or lack of trust a little more concretely.  

The word in Psalm 23:6 for "follows" is almost always translated "pursues," as in an enemy pursuing to devour and destroy.  It is also translated "chase" and "hunt." So God's lovingkindness following us is a little passive, reminding me of a dog that follows along in hopes of a treat.  God's lovingkindness is hunting us down, only without any intent to afflict or trouble.  He is eagerly, constantly, intently pursuing us with his lovingkindness.  He is never passive, never letting trials get in the way of His pursuit.  It's not His Lovingkindness vs. Our Trials, it is His lovingkindness encompassing and hemming us in, behind and before, with his mercy in every single season and trial.  

Finishing up my time of remembrance, I could only say, "Thank you, Jesus.  Thank you for not giving me what I asked for."

Psalm 52:8-9. "But as for me, I am like a green olive tree in the house of God; I trust in the lovingkindness of God forever and ever.  I will give thanks to you forever, because you have done it, and I will wait on Your name, for it is good, in the presence of Your godly ones." 

Too Good to Be True

I think I could meditate on Romans 8:28 all day long.  For all my years of having known this beautiful verse, it seems particularly significant lately.  God is so kind to refresh our memories of long-known truths, isn't He?!  

 "And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose."

Knowing that verse and living out that verse practically are absolutely two different things.  But putting all my hope in Romans 8:28 has radical implications!  It is almost too simple and too remarkable to be true.  It seems like God is saying we can't lose, no matter what happens to us!  "All things"-- Every thing.  Every sin we commit, every sin committed against us, every single thing withheld from us, every commission, every omission.  Every word spoken to us, against us, about us.  Every trial, suffering, whether small or great.  Every thing that makes us bow low in groaning grief and every thing that makes our eyes smart just a little.  Every person we wish would go away, out of our lives, just to make our lives a little easier.  Every personality that grates on us in our very own house.  Every delay and every wait, even those at the grocery store (or traffic!).  If only I could see it all as coming through His very good hands, sifted down to me. 

 "For those He foreknew, He also predestined to become conformed to the image of His Son..."  

Hebrews 12:10-11 "For {our fathers} disciplined us for a short time as seemed best to them, but He disciplines us for our good, so that we may share His holiness.  All discipline for the moment seems not to be joyful, but sorrowful; yet to those who have been trained by it, afterwards it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness." 

Romans 8:28 seems to indicate that "to those who love God" means purposeful submission to what He decides to bring into our lives.  In this way Hebrews 12 says discipline yields peaceful fruit of righteousness....because we have submitted to be trained by it. And all of it is still a gift of grace.  To recognize that He is more committed to my good than I am!...that would change my outlook.  

Thank you, Jesus, for not giving me what I want, but giving me what is for my best. 

"But in all these things we overwhelmingly conquer through Him who loved us." Romans 8:37

Purposes of God for Covid-19

As opposed to most of you who are stuck at home these days, I am quarantined with good people up on a mountain for the next several weeks!  If this is a quarantine, may it happen to me once a year, at minimum. :)  It is beautiful and quiet and we can work and study here while the kids play outside in the fresh air.  We are thankful to not be in the city, quarantined in our apartment with very little to do. 

As soon as this thing started to look like it had implications for us (wasn’t it amazing how quickly that happened?!), and daily life was altered, with new information seeming to come in every hour or so, I had this desire to let this do what it was meant to do in my life.  It is so different, so radically large-scale and unprecedented.  Surely God was calling his people to something.  

Perusing yesterday through the last chapters of Job, which I have always loved—God challenges Job like few other places in Scripture—I found this interesting verse I had never seen before.  Elihu is telling Job how un-like man God is, and talking about God’s intricate hand in nature (which, we know, is telling us of God’s glory every day Ps. 19:1 and Rom. 1:20), 

“Also with moisture He loads the thick cloud; He disperses the cloud of his lightening.  It changes direction, turning around by His guidance, that it may do whatever He commands it on the face of the inhabited earth.  Whether for correction, or for His world, or for lovingkindness, He causes it to happen.”  We don’t have to take one verse by Elihu and draw all our conclusions from it, but it did strike me that these may be several of the many things God is doing, as he sovereignly governs all that goes on in our world today, as much now as He did last month, and for eternity past.  

For correction: as we get to see how small our faith is, how much we have trusted in lesser things and placed our affections on things that don’t really matter.  As we repent from trusting in our medical system and our money and our savings and ourselves.  As we recognize that maybe we have filled our lives so full, we don’t even have time to think about what really matters.  Surely there is correction God is doing during this time.  I just finished reading through the Gospels and the main thing I was struck with was, Jesus’ calling is a calling to repentance.  I pray He brings me to my knees in personal repentance, as I take the time to evaluate different areas of my life.

For His world: (or literally, the earth and the land)  The earth is taking a deep breath, as we all slow down in a way that would have seemed entirely impossible even a month ago.  I am not an earth-worshiper, I am a God-who-created-this-earth worshipper :) and, as people who have been given dominion over the earth, I think it is appropriate to offer God thanks for giving the earth a little break.  The whole earth IS full of His glory!  I know I have a new appreciation for fresh air and beautiful scenery when I consider I could be stuck inside sterile walls for days on end.  Some of you are, and can testify to the sweetness of looking forward to being in God’s creation.  

For lovingkindness: Surely we are the happy ones, knowing that all that God does to his precious children, He does in love.  We have all of his precious promises, under and above and around us, hemming us in, behind and before.  He has laid His hand on us (Ps 139), but it is a hand of kindness, the hand of a good Father.  “The Rock! His work is perfect, for all His ways are just; A God of faithfulness and justice, upright and just is He!” (Deut 32:4)  His lovingkindness is also what gives those without him a chance to turn, and receive, His indescribable gift!

What an amazing time to submit ourselves to the Father, be refreshed and renewed by His Spirit, and ask Jesus to come and do new things in us!  He is before all things, and in Him all things hold together.  He is holding you and I together, even now.

Thanksgiving Surprises

Thanksgiving arrived, and it occurred to us that we really haven't celebrated this holiday in five years.  We have a harvest party every year in Tanzania: a unique combination of Thanksgiving, Halloween, and evidently some South American festival.  We have abundant food, we dress up, carve watermelons, and (the hispanic influence), we always have a piñata!  It has been the sweetest celebration.

The previous day, I had done my shopping.  I decided to buy the pre-made Pillsbury pie crusts.  I pulled them out of the little box, pressed them into the pie pan, poured in the filling and placed another one on top.  "I really love baking!  Thanks, America!"  I realized this was similar to two days earlier, when it was unusually warm and beautifully sunny and I had declared, "I love winter!"  At what point can you no longer call something actually homemade?! :)

Thanksgiving morning, I decided to get the Turkey ready for cooking.  Kate was my eager right-hand-gal.  She thought it was funny that the Turkey came packaged in such a nice plastic wrapping, and remarked about how funny it would be if they just let you go pick a live turkey outside the grocery store when you buy one, much like the market in Tanzania.

Carefully taking the plastic off, I opened the neck part to reach in an pull things out from the cavity, while Kate's eyes grew wide.  "Eww, mom!  What is that that you're pulling out of there?!"  and then, "Mom! I wouldn't reach my hand back in there if I were you!"  and then, "EWWWW!  Why is there a bag in there?!"  After all that amazement, I turned the turkey over to put it in the pan and rub some seasoning on.  "WHAT!  What is that red button thing on it?!"  That's the thermometer, darling. :)  "Does turkey taste like chicken?" she asks, hesitant.  Isn't every foreign meat supposed to taste like chicken anyways?!

We enjoyed a morning of games and snacks and finally sat down in the afternoon to our traditional meal.  Expectations were low, as this was new to many of my children, so they were more than overjoyed at the meal.

Except for Ben, who looked at all of it and asked, "Could I have a peanut butter and jelly sandwich?"

:)  Good thing turkey isn't the point of the day.  Our hearts were filled with thankfulness!

Living with People From Other Countries

I haven't blogged in over a year, I just found out!  I have had many, many blog posts in my mind and none that actually got out onto the paper properly.

This isn't meant to be serious or challenging or thought-provoking.  This is just my observations of my children as they re-enter a country they are supposed to be familiar with.

This is also not meant to minimize the reality and pain many people in this world face as immigrants to this, or any, country.  But the reality is, we have several seeming-immigrants in our immediate family that we take back and forth across the world.  We forget, because they blend in like everyone else, and we forget, because we know many of the things that are new to them.

Enter Halloween.  It has been five years since we have been in the States for Halloween, and while we had a Harvest Party every year in Tanzania with our friends, Ben in particular didn't have any idea about this particular day in America.  We had seen a drastic increase in horrible decorations in the neighborhood (to a 5-year-old immigrant, they were shocking.  To his 45-year-old mother, they were baffling).  All of a sudden we had the equivalent of Christmas decor, but ghoulish and ghastly: skeletons hanging from porches and inflatable ghosts.  On the actual day, we had decided to go to some friends' house who have something called a Night of Lights.  It is a beautiful celebration of the Light of the World, and it is a generous party for all the kids and their parents who venture out in the Montana cold.

So we had not anticipated being home for trick-or-treaters, although Dave grabbed a bag of candy just in case.  They showed up early, and because we had planned on being gone, we hadn't even bothered to explain what was going to happen to little Ben.  All of a sudden, we had an enormous dinosaur on our porch, ringing our doorbell.  We opened the door, and Ben's eyes about popped out, staring as we handed him some candy to put in the dinosaur's bucket.  We closed the door.  Then, "There is a tiny witch on our porch!" and bigger eyes.  Then a pirate, a dad dressed as a hatching duckling (!), Thing 1 and Thing 2, and Ben kept handing out candy, not asking for any (I don't think he realized he was supposed to have some :), also not thinking he should have any kind of costume on.  He was so delighted that all these special kids in costumes were coming to our house! :)  After about 1/2 hour, and while we were getting ready to leave, he decided right on the spot he wanted to be Captain America.  So his sister grabbed a pizza box, cut a circle out of it, drew on circles and a star, Ben grabbed his crayons, frantically colored it in, and said sister made an arm band out of duct tape in the car on the way to the party.  Beautiful.  It probably won't cut it for another year, but it did for this year. :)

We just added this to our humorous repertoire of incidents with these children who have spent most of their lives in a 3rd world country.  Their utter amazement at garage door openers, their confusion at trying to figure out what is automatic and what isn't (mostly in bathrooms), and how they stand still, unsure, when I hand them paper towels the first few times after arriving back and tell them to "Dry your hands," and they look around to see where to dry them and how they can hold this paper in their hands carefully so they don't get it wet. :)  And none of us can get over how friendly and efficient government offices can be, how fast food gets to the table after you order, or any other number of luxuries.  

The beauty of having the privilege of living in many places. :)

All this brokenness...

We don't get as many opportunities to help with medical needs now.  When we lived in the village, people frequently came.  We did have the grandma on the corner, a witch doctor, come ask for help with a large wound on her head, given to her by her grandson who hit her over the head with a plastic chair.  Yes, we saw the irony of the witch doctor coming for treatment.  I got to pray for grandma; we had, and still have, a sweet, ongoing relationship with her.

About six weeks ago, I saw a little neighbor boy who herds cows walking along, holding his arm tenderly.  He had dislocated his elbow, and was just going to tough it out.  (It had happened before, he said, and eventually, after several days, it got better).  His biggest worry, when I said I could help him, was that he would get beaten if he left the cows back at the house before it was time to put them up for the day.  He is 11.  Who would beat him, I asked.  "Everyone," he responded, and his sister nodded her agreement. Ugh.   I took him to an American pediatrician who lives around the corner and happened to be home, and was happy to see him and put his arm back in its proper place.  Thankfully, I also had an opportunity to talk to Bibi, his grandma, about how his injury was legitimate and he had a good reason to put the cows up early.  She seemed doubtful, as his arm showed no sign of injury.  These children suffer, and we are eager to do anything that relieves even a little pain in their hard lives.

On our way to the relatives' house.

Saturday we got a call from Pascal, who works outside.  His wife, Mama Pili,  had delivered a baby in the middle of the night, but, "because of bad luck, the baby died."  His wife is a lovely, soft-spoken young lady who goes to the church on the hill.  She has had two healthy babies already, and this pregnancy seemed normal.  When she went into labor at their home in the middle of the night, she delivered the baby's head and then "lost her strength."  They called another neighbor who is a nurse, and she said that if the mama finished delivering the baby, she might lose too much blood.  So they took her to the hospital with the baby half delivered.  When they got there, she was able to deliver the rest of the baby, but the tiny baby girl had already died.  

When I got there at visiting hours with Esther, we walked to the ward and it was typically full, most of the single beds holding two mamas, head-to-foot, and their new babes.  The woman in the bed across from Pascal's wife was chatting with her, and me, but didn't have a baby in bed with her.  Every now and then she would hold her belly, grimace, and lay back down again.  When she got a phone call, I asked if they knew each other.  "No, but the same thing happened to her--she delivered a baby this morning,  but it was dead.  She was seven months along."  Later, this sweet mama told all of us (five by then) how she had been in so much pain, she had gotten down on the floor and delivered this baby, who just fell out onto the floor.  Then the nurse came, and was angry with her because she had gotten the floor dirty.    And then, if I thought I couldn't stand any more, another woman came up and sat in between me and Pascal's wife, holding her belly.  Only her belly didn't look big at all, and she said she had been 9 months pregnant, but the baby had died, and she had been in 21 days ago, but was sent home.  Now she was having more pain, but her belly had gotten smaller and smaller.  Three women with tragic stories, and they all sat calmly, sharing, feeling sorry for one another.  It is easy for me to forget: most women here have lost at least one child.

Sister-in-law washes Mama Pili's hands before they eat

The two women who had delivered that morning had been given an IV, no pain medication, no education on how to care for themselves.  They were asked whether they were going to take their babies home to bury them, or whether the nurses should "put them in the trash."  It still makes me ache, and I have lived here 13 years.  

After two hours of trying to get the papers to be discharged, (there was no final exam or parting words; there was not even a band-aid to put over the bleeding spot where they took the IV port out), we were finally on our way out of the ward, and poor mama had to walk all the way to the car in the heat, not a short distance.  Pascal and I went through the exit, where the guards sit.  Then Esther and the mama came out, but not before paying a bribe to get through.  "I think the guard was hot and wanted to buy water or something."  

      Romans 12:8 always comes to mind in these situations.  It applies so precisely to our call as Christians to help those in need. "...if (your gift) is to show mercy, do it cheerfully."  There are so many adjectives God could have used, but He knows that situations that call for mercy often are frustrating, depressing even, if we get bogged down in them.  We are meant to do good cheerfully, and the only way to maintain cheerfulness is to fix my eyes on the rescuing, redeeming work of Jesus Christ.

The chickens kept coming in to greet us. :)

God never claimed this earth is as it was meant to be; on the contrary!  My purpose is to redeem, to fix what is broken in whatever way I can.  I am not meant to fix everything, and I can't even fix most things, but by faith I can do whatever I can in the situations He brings my way.  I can show compassion, and I can weep with those who weep.  I can acknowledge the precious Gift that this dear Mama mourns over.  I can, by God's grace, keep moving forward, keep trusting Him that He is at work and that He will accomplish His purposes in me and through me.  I can be kind, and not just to the ones I know are suffering.

I drove everyone to the home of a relative who lives way up in the hills.  This is where they had buried the baby earlier in the day, quickly, so that they didn't have the burden of a funeral (which involves several days of feeding the neighbors).  The land belonged to the family, the only place they could bury it since Pascal and his wife rent a house.  We brought Mama there to see where the baby was buried, and to be cared for by the women relatives.  The house was half the size of my living room and six people lived there.  I had no idea where Mama Pili would sleep, but it was good for her to be in a place where she could be cared for.  We left her there, said goodbye to the family, walked past the freshly-dug earth that was the grave, and back to the car, back to my own life.  

But not without remembering how the poor suffer.  And that their suffering is exacerbated by injustice, ignorance of those in authority, superstition, and the logistics that go along with being materially poor.  It is not an easy thing to rise up out of poverty.  In fact, it seems exponentially complicated.  This battle Dave and I have in ourselves, these conversations of who to help, how to help, did it work, what works best...these wrestlings are something we value.  Not because we love it, or would rather not turn away.  But we have the privilege of having our eyes opened to material poverty, we have the unique and amazing privilege of having something to give, and we have the opportunity to be reminded, daily, of how needy we are of wisdom and mercy, and a Savior.  

Baby's fresh grave on the left under the small rock.

For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was abounding in material resources,  yet for your sake he became poor, so that you through his poverty might be amplied supplied. II Cor. 8:9  Amply supplied--enough cheerfulness for each opportunity.

I Was Not There When You Laid the Foundations of the Earth

My months-long writer’s block has not come unexpectedly.  My head has been full of thoughts and wonderings, so much so that the words could not come out, even in my journal with plenty of empty pages.

Last year was a year of witnessing tragedy in the lives of those we love.  Metastasized cancer in a dear friend, a child going blind in another family, and then the loss of other friends’ 19-year-old son.  Not to mention the virtual graveyard of marriages we are witnessing. The verse in Psalm 23 that says, “When I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil…” made much sense to me.  It is our natural tendency to fear evil when we walk so close to death and brokenness, whether in our lives or the lives of those we love.  I understood Job when he said, “Your hand is heavy on me…” and truly, God’s hand of trials felt very weighty on our dear friends.  

I thought by 43 years old, my wrestling with the seeming dichotomy between God’s sovereignty over all things, combined with His great love and kindness vs. the brokenness and suffering in this world would be all but solved.  However, the past few months have made me realize that not only will I not ever really get my head around it, but at the end of all wrestlings, the battle will inevitably end with me having to trust and not lean on my own understanding (Prov. 3, verse 5: looks lovely on a wall, but is not as lovely to walk out on a day-to-day basis).  

The question is as old as Job, this asking God, “why?” and trying to figure out what He is doing, why He would allow certain things.  And sometimes we get glimpses, like when Ben was born and the midwife was horribly sick, in the end we think, “Wow, wasn’t it amazing that God brought sickness to the midwife so that He could save our lives?!”  And what we thought was bad, all of a sudden makes sense to us and we think, “Aha!  That is why He would do such a thing.”  And we feel better because we reasoned it out.  

After all that Job hears and sees of God and His outstanding power in creation, he reminds himself, and us, “How faint is the whisper we hear of Him.” (26:14) If God Almighty, who put this world and stars and seas and everything else into being with the breath of His mouth, declares a thing, decides a thing, I have no option but to repent of my unbelief and arrogance, and ask for strength to believe and walk this path out.  I am not God, and, like a friend reminded me recently, I am also not the hero of this story.  

You don’t have to tell me that even though I have walked with people who are suffering, in reality my life has been a practical fairy tale.  I cannot compare any suffering of mine to those who have been under the very heavy hand of my God.  But I do have daily sufferings that I get to entrust to Him.  And I firmly believe that unless I recognize His kind sovereignty in even small annoyances, I will never submit to Him when something life-changing happens that takes my breath away.  Sometimes it is easy to miss the battle that has to happen in those daily challenges, to take thoughts captive and make them obey Jesus Christ and His kingdom purposes.  

Jesus, you reign over this whole broken earth.  You reign and rule according to Your goodness and might.  Nothing stops your hand.  With Job I say, “I know that you can do everything, and that no purpose of Yours can be withheld from You.”  And with Peter, “Lord, to whom shall I go?  Only you have the words of eternal life!  We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”

Here are some resources that have been a challenge and comfort to me:

A Tantrum for My Transformation 

Were you There by Ghost Ship

Job Movie by John Piper

Though He Slay Me