Tag: Jesus

For Susan

10/11/2013Death Grief and Mourning, The Furrowed Brow, , , , , 12 Comments

The maple tree outside my office window is just starting to show a hint of red. Beyond that, the marigolds that rimmed the beans in the garden are tall and brilliant yellow and orange (though the beans are long gone!). The coneflowers have all gone to seed, and the burning bushes are blazing red. The grass is green and the sky is blue and the breeze coming through the window has just enough coolness to remind me that fall is here!

What a beautiful world God created for us to enjoy!

However, I am reminded yet again that this world, as beautiful as it is, is not as it should be, or will be. This evening, I will be attending the funeral of my dear friend, Susan Foley. We live in the Valley of the Shadow of Death.

We think of ‘the valley’ as that place where we must walk just before dying; or that place where those left behind walk as they mourn the passing of a loved one.

The reality is, from the moment we’re born, we are living and walking in the Valley of the Shadow of Death. The shadow of death is ever present, lurking over our shoulders, and reminding us of our mortality. Everything dies. Trees, flowers, pets, people. Death is here.

When God created the earth, it was perfect. But after Adam and Eve ate from the forbidden tree, death was ushered into creation, and we live in its shadow every day of our lives.

But, we need not fear death. Christ overcame death. When we come to the end of our days in the valley, Jesus welcomes us into his heaven. He has gone ahead of us to prepare a place for us and we know we will dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Believers don’t die. Our bodies die, and when they do, we close our eyes in this life and open them in eternity.

The last time I visited Susan we mostly talked about Jesus. Susan knew she was going to see him face to face soon, and while her heart broke for those who would mourn her passing, she was excited for herself. She was going to see Jesus!

Susan walked into the arms of her Savior on Sunday morning. She is healthy and well. She isn’t in any more pain. She is free. Free to worship. Free to love completely and purely. Free to sing praises without end. Free to bow low in adoration at Jesus’ feet. Free to smile at Jesus’ face for all eternity.

The party is not here! This is the Valley of the Shadow of Death. This is where fear reigns. This is a fallen world filled with fallen people who endure suffering, pain and tears. The party is in the presence of Jesus!

Until Jesus returns and restores the earth to its former glory, or calls us home, we are just walking through the valley. Home is in heaven.

Dad’s Last Words

10/03/2013Death Grief and Mourning, Spiritual Walk, The Furrowed Brow, , , , , 6 Comments

dadLawrence

I opened my Bible this morning, and saw a note from my dad. It was the last note he wrote to me, “The next time you see me I’ll have new valves.”  It was written on a torn off piece of scrap paper, and he’d just tucked it in with some other things he was mailing. I remember laughing when I read it in June.

And, now, tucked into my Bible, it is the last note I have from my dad. It is a misspelled, torn, priceless treasure. He touched it. He thought it. He wrote it. He sent it to me.

Suddenly, Grief overwhelms me and I can’t breathe. A wave of emotion knocks me off my feet and I feel as if I’m pinned to the ocean floor. I can’t set my feet onto anything solid underneath me and water surrounds me. I gulp for air but I feel like I’m breathing sea water and I want to throw up.

The only thing I can do is cry out, “O God, help me!”

My mind is a jumble of emotions and my heart is breaking. I miss my dad. I feel like I’m being torn apart.  If only I could put my feet on something solid, I could stand up and walk. I don’t want this anymore, I’m tired of grieving.

I pray, “God, you are my only hope.  You are the resurrection. You are life itself. You are eternal. Help me trust in your Word.”

My feet begin to feel the sand beneath me. “God, you are the promise of things to come. You have a hope and a future planned for me, and you will accomplish it.”

The waves start to recede and I stand on shaky knees. “God, you are the Savior. I know Dad is with you. I know he sits at your feet and that he worships you, alive and free. I know he is ok to be little before you.”

When grief overwhelms me, I lift my eyes to the heavens, that is where my help come from. God, the  Maker of Heaven, the Creator of the earth, the Sustainer of all things has sustained me once again.

As I wipe the tears from my face I find myself thanking the Lord, for the wave of grief. Grief reminds me of how much I have loved, and how much I have been loved. It also reminds me that only God can save me, the same God who saved my dad.

In God’s mercy the waves are less frequent and less ferocious than they were when dad first left. In his grace, I am enabled to overcome.

It’s been a while now since dad moved into heaven and most of the waves are small and refreshing, gentle memories of dad. There are stronger waves that continue to hit me at my knee and jostle me a little. And occasionally a wave crashes against my chest and knocks me off my feet for a moment, but rarely am I pinned to the ocean floor.

I am reminded that it is God who is healing me. O God are with me, your rod and your staff they comfort me.

If grief causes me to think of dad worshiping at the feet of Jesus, then I am OK to grieve. And, I thank God that I don’t grieve as the world grieves. I thank God that I grieve with hope.

I have my dad’s last words written to me tucked away in my Bible. I have the last words he spoke to me, “I’m going to see Jesus today! I love you, sweetheart” tucked away in my heart.

And I have the written Word of God to reassure, comfort and sustain me through all the trials of life. God is with me, he will never leave me or forsake me. His grace is sufficient for me and the promises of God, my Savior, is the solid ground upon which I stand.

Happy Father’s Day, Dad! Have a wonderful day with the Father!

The Big One

10/03/2013contentment, Spiritual Walk, The Furrowed Brow, , 3 Comments

We left off talking about ‘the little ones’ and that God reminds us we are little so that we might see him as ‘big’, but I have to ask, “How big is God?”

Or perhaps the question should be. “Is God bigger than me?”

And the answer is: “Yes, but only when I’m OK with being the little one.”

Why am I not always OK with being little, and letting God be bigger than me? Because so often, I don’t credit Jesus with being big enough to do all the things I need him to do, or want him to do. Does that sound familiar to you?

If, like me, the answer is sometimes, yes, then naturally we have to be ‘the big one’ because if he isn’t big enough, someone has to be. It might as well be us.

OK, I know that sounds shocking, but let’s be honest, is Jesus big enough to… — rescue the world from terrorists? — have your back if you step up at work and act like a Christian? — cause 90% of your money to go as far as 100% — reconcile you to a friend you haven’t spoken with in years? — go into a jail cell and comfort your family member who sits there? — equip you to teach that Bible study you’ve been asked to teach? — overcome a porn addiction? A substance addiction? — pull bitterness out of your heart by its root? — strengthen you to choose to forgive even if you don’t feel like it? — fill your heart with love for the un-loveliest person you know? — set aside resentment, jealousy, covetousness? — pry your hands open to let go of the thing he’s wanted you to let go of for years? — fill your heart with love for him instead of anger? — remove the grief from your heart and replace it with joy? — sit in a college dorm with a lonely and hurting student? — take care of your children/parents when you are not available — handle emergencies so you can turn your phone off for an hour on Sunday? — walk into a hospice room and welcome a tired child into his loving arms? — find you a job? — be your date on Friday night? — teach you to be content in all your circumstances? — love you even with all the ugliness in your heart? — save you? — use you?

Is God big enough? The problem isn’t that he’s not big enough; it’s that we don’t trust him. Yet, we know that he is totally trustworthy. The barrier is the distance between what we know in our minds but refuse to believe in our hearts.

Oh, that we could be like little children all day, every day, sitting at Jesus feet, trusting him to run the world. Trusting him to run our homes. Trusting him with our hearts. Trusting him with those we love.

Isn’t life so much easier and better when we agree to be the little ones.

marcia baby 002

My goal with this blog is to share my life with you, to be vulnerable, to be honest, to be open, to be small, so that we might all see God bigger and bigger.

Holding On! Walking Forward!

10/03/2013Spiritual Walk, The Furrowed Brow, , , , Leave a comment

As a little girl, the biggest, strongest, most courageous, fearless and handsome man in the entire world was my dad. It seemed there was nothing he was afraid of, and when I was close to him, I didn’t need to be afraid either. I knew he’d take care of me no matter what.

If we were in a situation where he knew I needed to stay close for my protection, and his peace of mind, he’d hold out his finger and I’d grab hold. All of us kids knew to grab hold, and we didn’t argue. When my siblings and I grew up and had children of our own, we would laugh as we recalled stories of how trained we were to hold dad’s finger.

In the final hours of dad’s life, when he was barely speaking, and rarely opening his eyes, I asked him if he remembered how he’d hold out his finger to me. He nodded and slowly and lifted his finger off the bed just a little. I grabbed hold.

I asked him if he was going to see Jesus that day. He said, “Yes.” I told him that when he saw Jesus, to look for his hand, and to grab hold of Jesus’ finger and not let go. He said that he would. A few hours later, he did.

Why is this story my very first blog entry? Because today, my life is in transition, and I’m not sure where I’m going and I don’t want to wander off and get lost in the crowd, or find myself in a place that I am not prepared to navigate. God is moving me from my cozy little cocoon, where I’ve taught for over fourteen years, from the women who know me, love me, and listen to me week after week into an area that I am not sure I recognize. I feel like that little girl who needs to see her dad hold out his finger, so that she can grab hold and know she is safe and protected.

Without realizing it, my dad taught me well. He taught me as a little child, to grab hold of my Father’s finger. And, so, I look to my Father, God, and I am grabbing hold of his finger.

I am holding on tight, because I know that He will guide me and He will protect me. He is the One and Only, the biggest, strongest, most courageous, fearless, beautiful God in the entire universe, for He created the universe, with His finger. He created me. He has a plan for me, and He will bring that plan to fruition.

So, as I begin this next chapter, I want to say “Thank you!” to my dad, thank you for teaching me to hold on. And, to my Father, to whom I am holding, “I’m so excited to walk this path with you, for I know, that no one can snatch me out of your hand.”