Category Archives: obedience

distracted …

Distracted.

I am. I have been for the past couple of weeks, and now I’m physically sick. What has been brewing in my mind and circling over my emotions has taken root in my flesh, and I have taken to my bed. Oh, perhaps there’s a floating bug in the air that took advantage of my compromised immune system; ‘tis the season to catch unwanted viruses. But I’m thinking the two are connected.

Whenever a virus lies in wait, whether of the physical variety or of the assault-your-heart-and-mind variety, some breakage is inevitable. When both are present at the same time, there’s bound to be a collision that forces the issue of healing.

I hear the Father’s question spoken to my heart today, even as I read it in antiquity from John’s Gospel (5:6) …

Do you want to get well … Elaine?

The answer seems obvious. However, that which is obvious is not always that which is chosen. Follow-thru is paramount regarding a choice for health. If I want to get well, I’d better start acting toward that end. What does this look like for me?

Two things: a choice to medicate and a choice to meditate. To fuel my body with the proper regimen of proven remedies and to fuel my mind with the same. And so, as I reach over to my nightstand for another Vitamin C tablet to bolster my flesh, I also reach for the Book that’s been remedying my soul-maladies for nearly half a century. Together, they are prescriptive, a best course of treatment for attacking the viruses within and bringing about my healing in due time.

When I am distracted by God’s Word, I am less distracted by the many cares of this world. Not that I live apart from the world; the world is ever-present around me and requires my participation. But in the midst of that requirement, there are ways to temper such burden. A good dose of vitamins and a good dive into scripture is a good beginning.

Maybe today a virus is eating away at your good health. You’re worn down from the chase, running in circles and slamming into walls that won’t move. Try as you may, you can no longer deny the impending collision. Where your preference plays a role is in answering the same question that was offered by Jesus to the one infirmed at the pool of Bethesda some 2000 years ago:

Do you want to get well?

I know I do. My prayer is that you will as well. Whatever sickbed you’re lying on today, the prescription for healing is within reach.

Medicate and meditate. Meditate and medicate. Back and forth – forth and back until the worldly disruption in your flesh and in your mind fades to black and the eternal distraction of Jesus comes into clear focus. In him and with him, all things are made well.

Peace for the journey,

when obedience comes back around …

I remember the night I first penned those beginning words to Beyond Cancer’s Scars with the nudge of the Holy Spirit alongside:

“Out of your poverty, Elaine, surrender your pen.”

It was a hard obedience. At that point in my journey, I was exhausted, worn out and hammered down by the emotional and physical requirements of my cancer season. Questions multiplied in my mind that night, doubts as well. What would become of this obedience?

In the end, words came from that obedience, nearly 60,000 of them. One thought after another, day after day of concentrated writing until forty days culminated into one binding—an inside look at one survivor’s very personal surrender. My surrender.

And so it was. So it is. Beyond Cancer’s Scars.

Tonight I look again at that old obedience. I hold the sum total of those thoughts tenderly in my hands, lift them up to the Father, and ask him a few questions not unlike the ones I asked him on that June night back in 2011. In swift measure, I sense his response. Oddly enough, it mirrors an old refrain.

“Out of your poverty, Elaine, surrender your pen.”

This is the work of our hands, the Father’s and mine. Collectively, we labored alongside one another in this hard obedience, and the end result—these words of 60,000—mean more to me than most any of the other ones I’ve said and written these past forty-seven years. These words were a gift to me; in turn, they became a gift for others, at least that’s been my hope.

But these words aren’t mine to keep; they are meant for release. To, once again, be surrendered as an offering to the Father who first enabled them … who lives in each one of them. Only he knows where to take them and how he wants to use them.

What will become of this obedience?

I haven’t a clue. But I will walk it through, just like I did back in 2011. I surrender these words all over again, believing in their eternal value. This is the best I can do … the most I can give. And therein is a moment of perfect peace for this journey I am traveling.

I pray the same for you, friends. Rest tenderly in the peace of Jesus Christ tonight, and may Sabbath arrive to your soul as a gentle grace from heaven.

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Anchor Verse 2014 ~ Kept

 

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.” –Isaiah 26:3, ESV

Kept.

This is who I want to be in 2014. This is how I want to live.

Kept … in perfect peace—the Father’s pledge to me preceded by my obedience to him. That obedience? To trust God first and, then, out of that unwavering confidence, to lay, lean, rest, and support my mind upon him … to stay with God.

With that trusting and in that staying comes a God-guarded, perfect peace—completeness, tranquility, safety, and contentment that cannot be secured in any other way. Like a night watchman keeping vigilance over his vineyard, the Father promises to safeguard my peace so that the harvest remains intact, healthy and thriving to fullness.

I don’t imagine I’ve ever experienced this perfect peace long-term. There have been moments, even days, perhaps a season or two of holding this kind of sustained, perfect peace, but I want more than seasonal glimpses. What I’m after is an enduring fellowship with this God-protected contentment.

And so, when I dreamed about these words from Isaiah 26:3 a few nights ago (to be fair, I didn’t know they were found in Isaiah 26:3 at the time), I awakened in the morning holding a fresh purpose for my 2014. This year, I want to know my Father as Keeper. I want to be kept in his perfect peace. Accordingly, I must tend to my trusting and to my staying.

A pledge preceded by an obedience. A pledge and an obedience tucked securely within the set of bookends who can and who does author such reality:

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you.”

You. God. Father. Keeper.

He is where I begin my 2014. He is where I’ll finish. And in between my now and my then, a long season of trusting and staying … an enduring season of fellowship with God-protected contentment.

Kept. This is who I want to be in 2014. This is how I want to live … anchored and held by the rich truth and work of Isaiah 26:3. And so I offer my “welcome” to this New Year, and I offer my welcome to you as well. For as much and as little as we are able, the fellowship we share here is a stone of remembrance for me on this journey of grace. May God keep you strong and in the faith this 2014, and may you be guarded by his perfect peace every step of the way.

Stay with God,

pilgrims on pilgrimage

They threw their lanyards on my desk. Safe-keeping I suppose. Mom tucking away treasures for later retrieval, a time when things will be remembered. Events remembered. This remembrance.

Pilgrims on pilgrimage.

In thinking about this milestone in their journeys of faith, I think on my own. Those seasons of youth retreats, conference gatherings, and mountaintop moments of kingdom clarification. And while my mother didn’t pack away any “lanyards” of remembrance for me in those earlier seasons, my heart still remembers what it was like to be a young pilgrim on pilgrimage.

Now I am an older pilgrim on pilgrimage. The destination has not changed since the days of my youth, but the route to that destination? Well, it’s not what I had imagined all those many years ago when I first put my heart and my hands to the grace plow. There have been a few detours along the way. Still and yet and to this day, God’s road is before me, pebbles of the gospel truth cradling my scarred feet.

Faith walks on despite missed exits and alternate routes. Sometimes faith rides the high winds of glory. Sometimes faith wallows desperately in the shallows. And sometimes … most times, faith simply walks on. Walks forward. Walks through.

Perhaps I’ll pin these words, this truth to their lanyards so that years from now, when they pull them out of their remembrance boxes (and after life has afforded them each a few detours along the path of grace), they’ll better understand what it is to be a pilgrim on pilgrimage. That their mother at forty-seven was still walking on in faith despite missed exits, despite everything that threatened to stymie her pilgrimage home. Perhaps they’ll need to know that then even more than they need to know it now.

Oh the great consistency of faith that grabs hold of a heart and never lets go!

Oh the certain grip of mercy that keeps hearts upright and willing to believe in the destination even though current scenery is blocking the view!

Oh the limitless love of Jesus that never grows weary of the grace-chase and that never runs out for or away from sinners!

This is what has kept me. This is Who has kept me. What more can I do? Who more can I be?

I am a pilgrim on pilgrimage, just like my children. Faith has brought us thus far. Faith will lead us home. Every last one of us. Billy. Elaine. Nick. Colton. Jadon. Amelia.

Yes, I’ll pin this proclamation to their lanyards so that in the future when their children ask them, “What do these words mean?” they’ll be able to tell them the truth about a woman named Faith Elaine who walked on in faith, despite missed exits and alternate routes … all the way through, home to arms of Jesus.

This is good legacy. This is the best I can give. May God keep and preserve this remembrance in their hearts as they make their pilgrimages of faith. Walk on, sweet ones. Walk always with Jesus.

Peace for the journey,

the triumph of mercy

 

Mercy triumphs over judgment.

These were James’s words to the twelve tribes scattered among the nations some 2000 years ago. These are God’s words to me today.

More fully …

“Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment!” –James 2:12-13

Notice, judgment and mercy are not separated here. They co-exist. Accordingly, there can be reasonable judgments made, but they must be triumphed by mercy … coated, bathed, and lavishly immersed in grace.

Why?

Because this is how Jesus lived. This is how Jesus loved … loves. He is the God of both – judgment and mercy. No mercy can be applied to a heart if a heart hasn’t first crossed the line requiring it.

Accordingly, we should follow Christ’s lead – mercy enough to bathe judgment. We should not offer mercy as a way of gaining the upper hand … of somehow thinking that our generous grace towards others places us in God’s higher regard. Instead, we should offer mercy because the upper, outstretched hands of Jesus Christ have extended wide and long and high and deep on our behalf. When we forget this, when our offers of mercy are motivated by personal pats on the back, then we’ve missed the grace of God entirely. It becomes all about what we have done rather than about everything that Christ has done for us, in us, and ultimately, through us.

In this day of doing faith and living grace, there will be someone who crosses your path in need of mercy. Judgment abounds (and in many cases rightly so), but judgment without the cross of Jesus Christ standing as a guiding light to monitor your responses will never advance the kingdom. At least, not through you. Not through me.

So I stand here today, close to the cross. Leaning into it, clinging onto the splintered, bloodied beams knowing that without this mercy-laced judgment, I am left as I am, incapable of loving the most excellent way.

That excellent way?

Mercy triumphing over judgment. If I’m going to live anywhere, let me live there. Let me grow there. Let me love from there.

Keep to it, faithful pilgrims. It’s a good way … the grace-way to move the kingdom forward. As always …

Peace for the journey,

 

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