Faith

“Now faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see…And without faith it is impossible to please God… yet none of them received what had been promised.  God had planned something better for us so that only together with us would they be made perfect….”

 Hebrews 11:1,6,39-40

She left with a lot more baggage than she came with.  She was just as beautiful as the day she arrived.  And she cried just as much, just not as loudly.  She is strong, smart, and capable.  I love her persistence and her idealism.  I can’t wait to see who she is when she comes home for Christmas.  Because I cannot go with her to watch out for her or protect her any longer, I ponder a few things about faith.  It…

…is being certain of what we do not see

…trusts when we do not receive

…makes it possible to please God

The quality and character of God is more important than the quantity of my faith.  God, who entrusted Lissy to me to begin with, is capable and trustworthy to care for her in the future.  He doesn’t need me to check on him or to give him instruction, but to believe that he will come through for her as he has done for me.  As my relationship with my daughter goes long-distance, my relationship to God grows one step closer.  I knew I needed his help to raise her, and I need it even more to let her go graciously.  I know she is his, only on loan to me for the blink of an eye (was it really 18 years?).  So I gave her back this week, knowing that God is able to provide for her, to protect her, to cushion her heart, to challenge her, to give her wisdom, and to meet each and every one of her needs (which is something I could never do anyway).

The Vanishing Vine

“But the Lord God provided a vine and made it grow up over Jonah to give shade for his head to ease his discomfort, and Jonah was very happy about the vine.  But at dawn the next day God provided a worm, which chewed the vine so that it withered.”  Jonah 4:6-7

God provided a vine…

God provided adventure…  God provided two new cars…  God provided several special friends…  God provided a roomy and worry free house…  God provided money for travel back and forth across the ocean…  It eased our discomfort of living as strangers and we were very happy about it.

God provided a place to live when we moved back to the states…  God provided a job…   It eased our discomfort when we transitioned from missions to church work and we were very happy about it.

God provided a worm…

God provided financial crisis…  God provided opportunities for delayed gratification…  God provided when we had to say no to our kids…  God provided decreased property values…  God provided two older cars that work but don’t always feel fun to drive…  God provided a house that isn’t finished…  The vine withered and the scorching wind came and we grew faint.

Should I not be concerned…

I am concerned about the things God allows to spring up overnight in my life and am even more concerned when I lose them.  I don’t like discomfort and losing luxuries is uncomfortable.  But although God notices those things that ease my discomfort, sometimes he provides for that discomfort so that he can accomplish a plan that I may not understand…  “Should I not be concerned about that great city?”  …or about Westboro and Rib Lake?

Twenty Years

 

“Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their work:  If one falls down, his friend can help him up…  Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.  A cord of three strands is not quickly broken.”  Ecclesiates 4:9-12

“Whether the weather be good or whether the weather be naught, 

We’ll weather the weather, whatever the weather, whether we like it or not.”

Brian has been quoting this to me since soon after we began dating twenty-two and a half years ago.  And because of the weather we’ve weathered a few things have changed.  We look older and wear out faster.  We’ve celebrated a few anniversaries together and a few from opposite sides of the planet.  We have learned lots from mistakes we’ve made and we are wiser for it.  We’ve lived in a few unique places and see the world with eyes that see a little deeper, a little wider.  We’ve cried a few tears and shared some heart aches, binding us in a friendship more intense, stronger than the day we said our vows.  We’ve laughed, a lot, mostly because Brian can find the funny side of things even when there isn’t one and the shared laughter binds our souls in a familiar belonging, so close I never imagined it when he walked up to that library table twenty four years ago.  We are a family of six instead of two, and along the way we’ve collected a trunk full of memories in our minds that draw us together, even when current circumstances and worries wedge themselves into our lives.  The weather may be fair, and we’ll enjoy the breeze together.  But when the weather batters us, I know today what I only knew in theory twenty years ago – that Brian will be tenacious and dependable and that the One who weaves our lives is creating a cord more tightly woven each year.

Ode to Weeds

“What does the worker gain from his toil?  I have seen the burden God has laid on men.  He has made everything beautiful in His time…”  Ecclesiastes 3:9-11a

“Mrs. Lora was the kind of teacher who loved every kid the same, even the weeds.  She showed me how she felt, one time when we were walking home together.  She stopped to look at a little purple flower growing from the road stripe in the middle of the street.  ‘Well, isn’t that something, Epie?’ she said.  ‘Look how it’s blooming right there with the cars driving by.  Just goes to prove that life doesn’t have to be perfect for something beautiful to grow.’  (Dandelion Summer by Lisa Wingate).

…toil

I’m trying to find another crack in the sidewalk.  It’s harder than I thought it would be…  When we moved back to the States three years ago, I thought this change would be more like another flower transplant, from one perennial bed to another.  When a gardener moves perennials, often we move more than just the flower with the roots, but also with a bit of the dirt packed around it.  We keep it moist and find it a new home, carefully adding in the new soil around that bit of the original soil.  By the next summer the adjustment is made and the plant is blooming again.  Past moves and changes led me to believe that it will be okay in a year or two.  So the struggle to settle surprises me.  The toil of my soul in trying to find that crack tires me.

…burden

But four summers later, I’m still wondering if I will ever bloom again.  Rather than a transplant, this time I feel like the seeds of my life were just scattered to the wind.  I’m like a seed all dried out and trying to find a crack that will have enough moisture, enough nourishment to put down roots.  I’ve worked so hard to pamper the other plants around me – my children, my husband, my extended family, even my new church family – making sure that they can bloom in this new place, in a new stage in life, under various adversities… Has God laid this burden on me?  I don’t see what He sees, why He needs me in this place and in this life circumstance.  Why can’t I just go back to when life was a bit more hopeful, when I could be carefree with my kids, when the worries of life didn’t wear me out so quickly?

…beauty

And all the while I still wonder, am I a weed that will turn bitter and someone will just want to come along and yank out?  Or will I be a “volunteer”, not pampered with fertilizer and attention, but struggling to survive, blooming in spite of the imperfect world, perhaps seeming out of place, but beautiful just the same.

Settle Down

And the God of all grace who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.

I Peter 5:10

…no more wiggling

“Settle down!” I remind Nathan and Grace when they come in with their active play from outdoors. There just isn’t enough room for them to play in the same way in our house. “Settle down,” I whisper as I hush Grace after she has gotten a scrape. “Settle down,” I tell our children as we walk into the sanctuary before the service starts. Some places are intended for quietness. At times I “settle” Grace in to the car for a long ride with a pillow and blanket or “settle” her into bed for the night – no more wiggling. “Settle down!” I urge Lissy when she phones home in the midst of a stressful moment.

…grass is always greener

Settle down is what I’ve been trying to do all my life. We Americans say our early pioneers “settled” our country when they built houses and began farming the west. We say young people “settle down” when they get married and start a family. To settle down is so stable, so steadfast, so at peace. Wanderlust, the longing to move on or to try a new lifestyle, keeps me from ever feeling too settled. Even when it appears that my home is settled in one place, my heart seems unwilling to settle down. The grass is always greener syndrome kicks in. In Indonesia… In Oregon… In Chicago… In Estonia… In Switzerland… In Cameroon… In some new unknown location life would be easier, better, simpler, more stress-free. I’d at least be trading known frustrations for a new adventure… For the first time in my life the grass is literally greener in my own front yard. Our newly planted crop is the greenest in our whole town and reminded me of my “grass is always greener” syndrome. A move never solves all my problems. My heart is ever unsettled.

…settle down

In I Peter it says that God will make me firm and steadfast. Another version says he will “settle” me. Isn’t it good that I don’t have to “calm myself down”, that God will do the “settling”. Somehow he will cause my heart to calm down in the midst of those situations that cause me to worry. Where will we find the money for yet another emergency? How will we provide the good things our children should have like braces? Where will I find the wisdom to help them pursue the right choices as they finish high school? He will settle me when I tend to grasp at straws and squirm under life’s pressures. We’re told that he whose heart is steadfast trusts in God. How do I settle down? Trust. Calming my heart does not depend on location or even on any outside circumstance. Just as Grace must trust me to comfort her when she is sad, to provide her with a warm blanket and a safe place to sleep, to quiet her in my arms, so I must trust God for comfort, provision, and his quieting presence.

Aliens and Strangers

All these people were still living by faith when they died. They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance. And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own. If they had been thinking of the country they had left, they would have had opportunity to return. Instead, they were longing for a better country – a heavenly one. Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them. Hebrews 11: 13-16

…aliens and strangers

For two years, I’ve struggled to find home in my passport country. We’ve built a house, rekindled friendships, trekked across America visiting relatives, forged new friendships, and introduced our kids to their passport country with all its culture and quirks. Some things are so familiar, so reassuring. Other days I watch with distaste and I would rather never adjust completely to this place. Shopping is so easy, but materialism so rampant. Casual clothes are so comfortable, but why do all my neighbors wear jeans and t-shirts to the fine arts concert at school? Understanding the nuances of the language around me is a daily relief, but the language and images on our television is frightening. In many ways, I will never again be home in this world. I admit it: I’m an alien in my passport country. I look like I belong, I sound like I belong, I may even act like I belong, but I will always be a stranger in the way I think.

…opportunity to return

Some days I wish to pack my bags and hop on an airplane. Not because I’m convinced that God needs me on the other side of the world, but because I miss the lifestyle of travel, and the challenge of interacting with people who think differently than me. I long to bump into people who are comfortable with transition between place and culture, who understand my reference points. I wish for my kids to find a place of belonging outside of our house. I’d love to show my family my childhood haunts, or visit the places of their childhood with them once more. How fantastic it would be to hug a friend and chat over a cup of tea or celebrate Midsummer’s Eve again. Other days I just wish to fit in, to think the way my friends and neighbors in rural Wisconsin think, to be satisfied with similar pursuits.

But do I long to be wholly comfortable with my passport culture? No. I prefer the person and the perspective I am now. The inclinations of my heart grow more and more like they should be with each passing challenge and change God has allowed me to experience.

…a better country

For that matter, do I long to be comfortable in this fallen world? Sometimes, but I recognize that those moments of joy and satisfaction are on the whole a shadow of the perfectness to come, not a reality to expect in this life. On days when my life as a pastor’s wife shows me again and again the tragedy and sadness of this world, I am so glad to remember that many people have died living by faith, and welcoming the things promised from a distance. Therein lies the poignancy of the day to day: to bear the heartaches and the longings… to see what could be but isn’t... to admit that life isn’t what it should be… to see sin and its consequences around me… to cry for what is… and all the while to catch glimpses of the things promised and to welcome them from a distance. And then I realize that although I am an alien, I am not alone. It is as it should be. Any believer, no matter where we take up residence, should feel the same way I do, never quite comfortable, always longing for a better country.

Whispers

"May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Oh Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.” Psalm 19:14

My voice is still scratchy. I won’t be singing for awhile. Pneumonia has had its way in my body this fall. But after a month of whispers, my voice is on its way back. While whispering, my thoughts wandered around these ideas:

When I whisper, others have to come close to hear me…

No more hollering between rooms or passing messages from one floor of the house to another. If Brian wanted my opinion on a matter, he had to come close. If the kids wanted my help or permission to go somewhere, they had to get near to me for the answer. Scripture compares God’s voice to a whisper. Am I close enough to hear it? James tells us, “Draw near to God and he will draw near to you.” Have I “drawn near” to God? Have I sat down at his feet and listened? Have I heard his whispers of love, of guidance? Oh God, please whisper to me…

When I whisper, others often whisper back…

It’s as if quiet becomes the rule. It’s not posted anywhere, “NO TALKING OUT LOUD”. But the natural response is for soft words to reign. Grace whispered her answers to me. The nurses whispered back to me. Even people on the phone responded with a whisper. When God whispers, do I whisper also? Am I letting him set the tone of my life? Do I pass his gentleness on? Are my words worth hearing, like his? Oh God, let me mimic you…

When I can only whisper, I listen far more, and the words I choose are not idle…

The more I used my voice, the more it hurt. So I only whispered when it was of some value to me. Small talk? I’d rather not talk. I thought of Zachariah who couldn’t talk at all. When writing, he had no use for small talk and got right to the point, “His name is John.” – an answer in obedience, exactly as God had directed. Now that I have the option, am I still choosing my words with care? Am I wasting my breath and voice box on worthless drivel and idle chatter? Oh Lord, may my words be pleasing…

“May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be pleasing in your sight, Oh Lord, my Rock and my Redeemer.”