Reach Up!

Many Christmases ago, I posted a piece called Low Branches about how our great God bridges the gap between our feeble efforts and His perfection. As I was praying recently, that concept reemerged into my mind, but in greater detail.

I thought of Moses climbing Mount Sinai to obtain the ten commandments, those two stone tablets which provide God's instructions for holy living. I recollected how this paragon of faith, in a fit of righteous indignation, smashed the words written by God Himself.

But our God is a God of second chances. He gave Moses and the people (not least Moses’s brother, Aaron, whose actions provoked Moses’s rashness in the first place, and who blamed his foolishness on the very people he led into idolatry) a second set of commandments after Moses destroyed the first.

What a patient, forgiving deity. 

This same divine being sent His Son to earth to wash away the sins of believers and grant His children unlimited access to His presence, even though our sin warrants the very opposite.

I'm going through a time of frailty (aren't we always, when we get right down to it? but some seasons of living just feel more fragile than others). As is so often the case, this period of fragility is finding me wakeful, watchful, and wistful. I'm reaching up with extra gusto to seek God’s hands, using the vehicle of prayer that never fails to get me to the right destination. I’m counting extra hard on the Lord’s cleansing nature and open door policy for believers, subjects about which I wrote quite confidently years ago. 

Did I mean it then? Do I believe it now?

Reaching up is the only way I know to find out. Vulnerability can be a companion to desperation or determination. By God's grace, I'm leaning towards the latter.

To quote Tiny Tim, whose words still ring true nearly two centuries after Dickens penned them, “God bless us, every one.”

Not My Will... AKA, Counting Blessings amidst Disappointment

The holidays are upon us, and with them, the disappointment of unmet expectations. The coronavirus has robbed our family of several celebrations, and this year illness is yet again shrinking the numbers at our Thanksgiving table.

But how blessed are we that these sorrows are only temporary? So many have lost loved ones permanently to this disease and others. Empty chairs will never again be filled by those held most dear.

Others live with estrangement. Death of affection, as opposed to physical death, has left gaping holes in family gatherings. Our family has experienced its share of strained relationships that took years to repair, but by the grace of God, those fences were mended this side of heaven.

Thank You, Lord.

I must honestly confess to feeling sad today. I can't have what I want when I want it. Or, rather, I can't have who I want at my house this day. 

But there will be other days. 

My sons and their wives will again congregate at Mom's house over turkey and pie. Little feet will again traipse through Mom Mom's kitchen spilling bits of food and gobs of laughter.

It will be OK.

Beloved nieces and nephews will pause their busy schedules to spend time with their aging auntie. Yummy aromas will fill our senses, and tummies will be over-filled with stuffing and other wonderful stuff.

How blessed are we?

I can feel gratitude growing in me as I count these blessings. The things that are troubling me haven't gone away, but somehow they're less palpable when weighed against my treasures. And most of those treasures aren't the kind that put pounds on me, but rather, lighten my load considerably.

I feel lighter already.

Years ago, a Sunday school teacher brought my attention to Psalm 42, in which the writers force themselves to focus on God's goodness even as they grieve. I'm inserting this rich piece of literature here in its entirety, along with a link to a reputable commentary on the psalm to help elucidate the inspired words. I pray it reaches my readers as it has me on this morning of mixed emotions.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone, and may we all rejoice, whatever our circumstances.

As a deer pants for flowing streams,
    so pants my soul for you, O God.
2 My soul thirsts for God,
    for the living God.
When shall I come and appear before God?
3 My tears have been my food
    day and night,
while they say to me all the day long,
    “Where is your God?”
4 These things I remember,
    as I pour out my soul:
how I would go with the throng
    and lead them in procession to the house of God
with glad shouts and songs of praise,
    a multitude keeping festival.

5 Why are you cast down, O my soul,
    and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
    my salvation and my God.

My soul is cast down within me;
    therefore I remember you
from the land of Jordan and of Hermon,
    from Mount Mizar.
7 Deep calls to deep
    at the roar of your waterfalls;
all your breakers and your waves
    have gone over me.
8 By day the Lord commands his steadfast love,
    and at night his song is with me,
    a prayer to the God of my life.
9 I say to God, my rock:
    “Why have you forgotten me?
Why do I go mourning
    because of the oppression of the enemy?”
1As with a deadly wound in my bones,
    my adversaries taunt me,
while they say to me all the day long,
    “Where is your God?”

11 Why are you cast down, O my soul,
    and why are you in turmoil within me?
Hope in God; for I shall again praise him,
    my salvation and my God.