Relentless

I attended a summer youth camp as a nurse a few weeks ago.  A few times that week, I was able to get away from the health center in the evening to listen to the guest speaker. One night as he talked, the speaker hushed the large audience into silence and directed each of us to wait and listen for God to whisper a word into our heart. The word that came to my mind and echoed over and over again was "relentless". It wasn't a word that had been on my mind or in my conversation that week, but the feeling that came over me as I thought about it during that moment, was almost one of familiarity. Hearing the word in my head felt confirming… like when elderly folks empathetically discuss the difficult happenings in someone else's life, nodding their heads up and down in understanding that life is not easy, and that every person is faced with their own set of struggles and disappointments as they move through one day after another.

I quietly slipped through the side door to return to my nursing duties, and was not surprised to be quickly followed by my most “frequent flier”. I greeted him affectionately, and asked if he needed something, although I suspected I knew what it was.

“The bandage came off again,” he said sheepishly, hands in his pocket

“How do you know?” I asked, looking curiously at his feet which were enclosed in both socks and shoes, just as they had been forty minutes earlier. I myself, had carefully eased the sock over his right foot, then watched as he put on and then tied the shoes I had directed him to wear instead of the flip.-flops he had been wearing throughout that day.

“Well, I had to look at it!” he said in a worried voice, anxiety clouding his deep brown eyes. “I know that stick poked into my bone. It probably has a hole in it! It’s gonna rot my foot off!”

I sighed as I thought about the 4 or 5 times I had already rebandaged a small cut under his toe where a stick had lacerated the skin a couple of hours earlier.

“Buddy,” I said as I handed him two band-aids and sat in a chair, “I promise you, it’s just a small cut in your skin, there is not a hole in your bone, and your foot is not going to rot off… it’s really not!”

He looked at me miserably, and I thought of the note his mom had given me about his struggles with worry, as well as her suggestion that I try and distract him. “Distract him?”  I thought, “I have tried to over and over, all week long! It’s been one small thing after another… some real, some imagined… but, truly, this boy is impossible to be distracted! He is relentless!”

Relentless!

Suddenly, I knew what to do, because God had whispered that word in my ear. “Hey…” I said softly to my young friend. “I’m not going to bandage up your foot anymore. I gave you those two extra bandaids and you can put one of those on it yourself if you would like to. I know that we cleaned it and put ointment on it, and I know that even though it’s a bit sore, it’s gonna heal in a few days, and you’re gonna be just fine!”

“How do you know?” he mumbled, not looking up, shuffling his feet on the floor.

“Because I do,” I said. “God made that skin on your foot to protect your bones from that stick. He made that skin so that even when it gets hurt doing it’s job, it can heal itself by making new cells and becoming strong again. I trust God! I trust that when he made you, he did a great job, and that you are going to be just fine.”

I paused and waited, my eyes on the top of his head.

Finally, he raised his gaze towards me, and his eyes filled with tears. “But I can’t stop thinking about it!”

“Well…” I said, and thought for a moment. “How ‘bout this? Every time you think about it, Buddy - that’s an opportunity to remind yourself that God is relentless in His goodness and in His faithfulness. And even if you think about it a hundred times before you go to bed tonite, that’s a hundred chances you’ll have to thank God for His goodness and His faithfulness and to ask Him for healing.”

I sat back while he contemplated my words silently. As we heard the voices of more kids coming up the sidewalk, he stuffed the bandaids in his pocket. Giving me one last puppy dog look, he disappeared out the door.

After five days of providing around the clock nursing care for hundreds of teens, I went home from that camp drained and exhausted, but in the back of my mind still, was the word that God had given me just the few nights before.

Relentless.

It made me think of the sun shining in the desert, or the ocean waves pounding against a cliff… things that are powerful, naturally driven, connected with both life and destruction.

Relentless.

I turned the word over and over in my mind, and I looked it up in the dictionary:

Relentless. /rəˈlen(t)ləs/ adjective:

oppressively constant; incessant...

I looked it up in the thesaurus:

persistent, continuing, constant, continual, continuous, non-stop, never-ending, unabating, incessant, unceasing, endless, unremitting, unrelenting, unrelieved, unfaltering, unflagging, unwavering, dogged, tenacious, single-minded, tireless, indefatigable...

Indefatigable!!! I knew as I read that particular synonym that God was not using relentless to describe me, because anyone who knows me, knows that I am without a doubt fatigable!

However, this word relentless -  it did seem to describe how I often feel about my own life circumstances, and, more-so perhaps, about the circumstances present in the world around me.

My own family lives daily with the constancy of a chronic incurable disease in our midst. We arrange ourselves - our activities, our conversations, our noise level, our holidays, our relationships… our entire lives really, around the incessant presence of pain. Our need to consider it is never-ending, and our quest to tame it is unwavering. We seem to be in a continual pursuit of balance  - not wanting to bow down to pain by sacrificing our joy, yet not wanting to instigate pain with a disregard for its latent tendency to react strongly to exuberant living. This persistent dilemma of the unknowns about the future is relentless in its attempt to steal today from us.

There are innumerable atrocious circumstances in our present reality. Every day we hear about the horrors in our own country and across the world, of what one or more humans under the influence of unimaginable evil, will do to the most pure and innocent of all people. These situations persistently, continually, constantly, continuously, never-endingly, unabatingly, incessantly, unceasingly, endlessly, unremittingly, unrelievedly, unfalteringly, unflaggingly, unwaveringly, doggedly, tenaciously, single-mindedly, tirelessly, indefatigably never ever stop pursuing destruction. They are relentless!

I began to wonder why God would whisper this discouraging word to me, why he felt a need to plant it within me when I already struggle each day to not drown in heavy laden thoughts of the hopelessness of this world.

I thought again of the relentless sun, shining hotly on the desert plain, baking the ground a full thirty degrees hotter than the stifling air above it, until it cracks into a mass of chaotic grids. I thought of the powerful ocean waves pounding relentlessly against a cliff, undercutting it with sand and water and rock, over and over and over again, steadily destroying it into pieces that crash into the water below.

As I continued over the next weeks to on and off muse over the word, a revelation finally occured to me in the middle of my antagonistic thoughts about it. Relentless, the very word that exemplifies the arduous adversity in life - this word, this very same word, also illustrates everything that my God means to me.

God is relentless in the pursuit of my heart.

God is relentless in his desire for my devotion.

God is relentless in his faithfulness to never leave me on my own,

God is relentless in keeping every single one of the  promises He has made in His Word.

C.S. Lewis said, “The great thing to remember is that, though our feelings come and go, God’s love for us does not. It is not wearied by our sins, or our indifference; and therefore, it is quite relentless…”

The Apostle Paul wrote, “And I am convinced that nothing can ever separate us from God’s love. Neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither our fears for today nor our worries about tomorrow—not even the powers of hell can separate us from God’s love.  No power in the sky above or in the earth below—indeed, nothing in all creation will ever be able to separate us from the love of God that is revealed in Christ Jesus our Lord.” (Romans 8:38)

If the same word that describes the circumstances I am surrounded with, also describes my God, then I can only conclude that God is present with me in all of these circumstances.Though the world can be horrific and each day filled with difficulty and suffering, if I walk through the desert in the presence of God, He will be relentless in using what otherwise would steal and to destroy anything good in me, to instead give me life, and to give it to me abundantly. A relentless life is a blessing, not because I avoid the hard things or because I am blind to reality, but because I can walk through the midst of it all with God, and in His presence find peace instead of resentment, calmness instead of anger, patience instead of frustration, and love instead of hatred.

God created the sun to light up the world and nourish His living creation - the same sun that burns, brings life. He created the waves to carry life in the sea, to carry life to the shore - the same waves that crash, carry life.

I think that I finally understand the intention of God in placing that word in my mind one month ago. He was reminding me of who He is, of what He wants, and of His promises to me. He knows that in my humanness, I struggle more often than not, to appreciate and embrace - or at times, to even just tolerate the relentless life I live in. He gave me the gift of a word to remind me to have hope in His faithfulness and to wait for His joy.

The morning after that chapel service at youth camp, as I unlocked the door to the health center, my buddy was standing there waiting for me. I smiled and invited him in, wondering how he had fared through the night with his worry.

“Umm, can I have another bandaid?” he asked, a bit sheepishly.

I held one out to him silently, a questioning grin on my face, I’m sure.

“I know God is going to heal it,” he said confidently, then gave me a sideways look. “I know He is... even though I still think my bone is rotting… even though my foot might fall off.” His confidence waned. “Maybe I should go to the doctor when I get home?” he asked uncertainly.

With a sigh, I pulled out a chair and motioned him to sit down. “C’mon then buddy, take off your shoe and let’s have a look, and let’s go over this again…”

Relentless...

" I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness,

   the taste of ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed.

I remember it all—oh, how well I remember—

   the feeling of hitting the bottom.

But there’s one other thing I remember,

   and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:

God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out,

   his merciful love couldn’t have dried up.

They’re created new every morning.

   How great your faithfulness!

I’m sticking with God (I say it over and over).

   He’s all I’ve got left.

God proves to be good to the man who passionately waits,

   to the woman who diligently seeks.

It’s a good thing to quietly hope,

   quietly hope for help from God."

(Lamentations 3:19-26, The Message Bible)

“And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.”   (Romans 8:28, KJV)

“The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full,”

(John 10:10 NIV)

“Sustain me according to your promise, and I will live; do not let my hope be crushed." 
(Psalm 119:116)

Beyond The Wilderness

A desert wind is a powerful force... It flings waves of sand into undulating dunes, mimicking the motion of the sea. It dries the arid landscape into a myriad of wandering cracks which converge in a hundred variable directions. It ceaselessly erodes crumbling sandstone to expose magnificent sculptures of ombré rock once hidden beneath the loose terrain. It is the destructive force of this stalwart wind that reveals the beauty of the desert plain.

It seems like for a long time, I have been wandering in the wilderness of life, my head down in the gale, my mind open to the voice of my Creator, my spirit ebbing and flowing to and from hope. I have learned more and more to wait with my Father, as He patiently teaches me to stay in the oasis of His arms and the shelter of His will. Lately, I've noticed, He has lifted my chin and shielded my eyes from the brilliance of His light, to show me more of the beauty in the residuum surrounding my life.

I have discovered, as I look around, that my life here in the desert is intersected by many lives near me - each one beautiful in a different way than the next, each one pummeled by circumstances which have shaped the person living it into an exquisite form of mercy and grace, clinging to the hope of our God's sovereign will.

"In His fierce love, God sometimes impels us into the wilderness... Amidst harsh dehydration, God’s presence remains."

-Margaret Feinberg

I do not know why God's journey for me must lead, at times, through heartbreak and anguish and separation and sorrow and the difficulties of the desert. It's hard for me to understand why loving someone requires I must go through times of suffering directly related to that love... but the treasure for me in that mystery is that even so, even so, I find that I am still willing to choose to love. I can only comprehend the catalyst of this voluntary sacrificial love by considering what I know of the generous love of my Savior.

...when Jesus knew that his hour had come to depart out of this world to the Father, having loved his own who were in the world, he loved them to the end. 

-John 13:1 ESV

He loved them to the end!

That is the part that captivates me. That is the part that grabs my heart and begins to try and shape it to look like the heart of Jesus. Knowing the excruciating task of the cross was immediately before him, knowing that the suffering ahead of him was because of the sins of even the very people he was spending his last hours with, even so, even so, Jesus chose to continue to actively love them in their sin. How amazing, how freeing to be always able to choose love and to always make that choice expecting nothing in return!

As I raise my head and look around the wilderness, I see the breathtaking reflection of the love of Jesus Christ in the actions of people whose lives are neighboring mine: 

• I see one child wild and wounded, embraced for a time by people who have loved and restored her by choice before reluctantly releasing her in obedience and faith, too soon for sane comprehension, into a world of instability and darkeness. I see these people, left behind, continuing to expose their hearts, already raw with the weariness of battle, choosing regardless to continue to grasp in their love still another child... to keep her from drowning herself in silence while covered in iron-willed armor. As they struggle to clothe her spirit instead with light and with hope and with an openness to the healing love of her Heavenly Father, they are desperately aware of the shadowed path ahead that wants to extinguish her flickering flame and wrap her again in grayness and void. Yet, I see they are choosing to love, even so...
•  I see an abandoned baby boy, received with open arms and open hearts of parents who treasured him without hesitation before they even touched him, despite an awareness of years of expected medical crises and brain surgeries ahead. I see that same boy grown into a young man, ravaged by the emotional effects of his physical battles, still loved, still accepted, even through trying periods of rebelliousness and desperate acting out. I see parents who have loved him unceasingly, even so...
• I see a beautiful young girl, blind to her own exquisite worth, straining heedlessly against the resolute arms of her steadfast parent, whose overflowing heart refuses to surrender a child to the deception of circumstantial value. I see a parent hanging on with love, even so...
•  I see a young couple tending their seedling children, nourishing their growth with laughter and faith. I see their faces marked with love and concern as one child wavers at times in the persistent desert sun. I see them reaching up to God in faith, a faith that in turn reaches deep through the desert sand to establish enduring roots of hope and resilience. Already they have learned to bend rather than break with each gust, holding onto the certainty of their Father's hand, even as their child holds to theirs. I see they are determined to never let go of His will, even so...

“Go out and stand before me on the mountain,” the Lord told him. And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And a voice said,“What are you doing here, Elijah?” 

-1 Kings 19:11-13 NLT

When I find myself in wilderness moments (or days or months or years), even though I may feel afraid or uncertain, I know it is important that I try to remember - God's voice does not consist of the circumstances that are pummeling me. His is the gentle whisper that embraces me and directs my response.

Just as you cannot understand the path of the wind... so you cannot understand the activity of God, who does all things.

-Ecclesiastes 11:5 NLT

Today, I see an orphaned infant turned toddler, joyful in spirit though abandoned at birth to her own circumstances - a precious child adored by all whom she touched, yet a child passed without permanency from person to person to place to place, until one predestined day last summer, she found home in the family who chose and were chosen to love her for keeps. She blossomed like a desert rose exposed to the purity of sunlight. Her face was often lit with a smile and her arms open generously to share whatever was delighting her at the moment. Her family embraced her completely, investing their hearts into her life, choosing to see her through eyes of hope. And hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. (Romans 5:5 ESV) Within a few short months, the life of this little child profoundly touched the family that began to claim her as their own, and she grew their hearts and their experiences in directions they had not conceived of before. In the space of one short day this week, I see this family devastated - yet choosing in faith to trust in the goodness of their God, the Author of their precious child's life, even as they discovered her story had been written so differently than they ever could have known - a story now merged into their own, changing it forever. And while her chapter on this earth may have ended, her presence will never be forgotten. I see her still in my mind, her little arms signing "baby" as she thrilled over her sweet companions sharing the room with us that day. I imagine her right now, snuggled blissfully in the arms of Jesus and enraptured wholly in His love, content to finally be home forever, beyond the wilderness of the desert. She loved until the end.

When I think of all this, I fall to my knees and pray to the Father, the Creator of everything in heaven and on earth. I pray that from his glorious, unlimited resources he will empower you with inner strength through his Spirit. Then Christ will make his home in your hearts as you trust in him. Your roots will grow down into God’s love and keep you strong. And may you have the power to understand, as all God’s people should, how wide, how long, how high, and how deep his love is. May you experience the love of Christ, though it is too great to understand fully. Then you will be made complete with all the fullness of life and power that comes from God. Now all glory to God, who is able, through his mighty power at work within us, to accomplish infinitely more than we might ask or think. 

-Ephesians 3:14-20 NLT

You will show me the way of life, granting me the joy of your presence and the pleasures of living with you forever.

-Psalm 16:11 NLT

Until Then, Choose Gratitude

When a gardener plants a flower bulb, she has a vision in mind of the promise of the bloom that will in time grow from that seed. The gardener understands that there is a season for a bulb to remain buried in the dirt, protected from the ice and the wind and the cold while remaining blind to the sun and its light. 

I have been thinking considerably about what it means to be grateful. What I am coming to believe is that gratitude is a concept that encompasses so much more than saying “I'm thankful”. Gratitude is truly valuing the experience, the person, the action, the object - truly valuing the intentions God has for bringing a circumstance into my life. For me, my response to a circumstance affects my ability to find that value. When I respond to a circumstance by choosing to trust God's intention is good, I am showing that I find value in his faithfulness. Attaching that value to a circumstance allows me to have a grateful attitude even when what God has brought me to does not appear to be overtly desirable in my limited perspective.

Gratitude is truly valuing the intentions God 
has for bringing a circumstance into my life.

The gardener knows that eventually, after a time of waiting, there comes a season for the bulb to release the bud, for the bud to break out of the shell that has protected it for a time, and for the shell to become a part of the root system that supports new growth. There comes a season when the nourishment of light from the sun and of moisture from the rain is necessary to the life of the tender young plant. In each of these seasons and with each of these processes, these elements are unpredictable and uncontrolled by the gardener. She must trust that the season appointed for the miracle of the flower blooming is ideal for its growth, despite a dependency on factors not foreseeable at the time of the planting. 

It seems like I am forever balancing on a seesaw of emotion. Wonderful news, heartbreaking news, amazing news, desperate news. At times, I feel weak as I watch the fray of the strings I’ve attached to the circumstances which I find acceptable or comfortable. In my self-centered way, I long to keep life safe, peaceful, controllable. However, in my weakness, I realize that my mere human point of view is limited and incomplete. 

Each day, the gardener tends to the flower, supplementing it with water and with fertilizer as needed in order to support survival and ultimately, the blooming of the plant. One day, after seasons of patient waiting, after days of careful tending, and after faithful persevering through unpredictable weather, the beautiful bloom of the flower appears in all of its magnificent glory.

I know in my heart, if I choose to walk away from the difficult things, if I choose to to walk away from the waiting times - then I am choosing to walk away from the blessings that the processes of the waiting and the enduring will lead me to. I believe in the hope of those blessings because I know God is faithful in his plans of goodness, that he sees the picture of the entire garden in bloom and the beauty in each growth process that leads to that splendor. Still, the toil of the meantime and my limited view of the mud surrounding me challenge my attitude of hope and my ability to value a splendor I cannot yet see.

the toil of the meantime and 

my limited view of the mud surrounding me challenge my attitude of hope 

and my ability to value a splendor I cannot yet see

To patiently wait for the seasons to pass, for the rain to fall, and for the sun to shine are difficult but valuable parts of the growing process. Life is not easy or certain, even in the middle of living God's will. At times, I want to hurry this process along or skip it altogether. At times, I focus only on myself and begin to believe the lie that I deserve to be happy and appeased at all times, that I am entitled to ease, and that avoiding adversity would solve all of my problems. At times, I focus on the life of someone else, and I am deceived by the thought that circumstances other than my own would lead to a better harvest than the one I am struggling for. When I allow my mind to linger on these thoughts, I am choosing not to find the value of the truth. I am choosing to disregard gratitude and instead to believe lies that leave me wallowing in virulent conditions which cultivate bitterness, lead me to despair, and abandon me in darkness.

the painful process of growing 

is a part of the blessing of harvest

Instead of searching for an escape or for an excuse when I become discouraged and weary, I need to be reminded that God did not promise me ease. In fact, God is completely upfront with me in his Word, telling me that I will be tested and that I will feel persecuted by my circumstances, but that the painful process of growing is a part of the blessing of harvest. In the same scriptures, he encourages me that these are the circumstances I can and must endure through. These are the times that I must wait patiently in as he cultivates me to become the mature woman of faith he created me to be, to bloom as he has promised, to become more and more a reflection of Christ, and to harvest his best plan for my life. I need to believe in the the magnificent oasis of his truth, to choose the quiet joy of waiting at his feet for the sunshine and the rain, while being patient in the pruning and in the wind and in the drought. I need to choose to see the value of the process so that I can experience gratitude for the circumstances which bring me to God’s best.

So, here I am, my heart breaking with the pain of a child facing an uninvited future one thousand times more difficult than any he or I would have chosen for his life. Here I am, my heart breaking with the pain of a husband enduring an endless climb up a rocky mountainside covered with slippery slopes and isolating ledges, navigating a path that bears no resemblance to one we would have chosen to walk. Here I am, my heart breaking with the pain of a friend who is daily looking straight into the face of darkness as her arms and her soul protectively encircle two children who have sustained unimaginable horrors, yet, she remains faithfully exposed with them to preposterous situations that she would never have chosen to bring them to. These are just some of the circumstances that surround me and press in on me and call out for me to turn away from the waiting, shriek at me to protect my heart, taunt me to give up on persevering through the unknown. It is excruciating at times to find value in these circumstances that are not what I would have chosen for myself or for these that I love. In this difficulty and in this pain are where I must recognize that God is the one who has chosen, and therefore, the value lies in his purpose, in his ultimate plan for goodness and victory, in his promise that these choices that require us to wait and to suffer and to endure will absolutely with all certainty lead us to a time when we will view our struggles in hindsight as the blink of an eye.

I believe that one day, I will be able to value fully these circumstances that are leading me to a place where God will wipe every tear from my eyes, and where there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain, and where all of these things will be gone forever. Until then, I will faithfully plant the seeds God gives me. Until then, I will look to God in expectation to provide the sun and the rain and the resources I need to patiently endure the waiting time and the seasons that remain before the harvest. Until then, I will make every effort to choose to live in gratitude and with joy by valuing the promise that lies beyond the growing time instead of believing the deception that I am entitled to ease and gratification in the here and now.

Until then...

“Dear brothers and sisters, be patient as you wait for the Lord’s return. Consider the farmers who patiently wait for the rains in the fall and in the spring. They eagerly look for the valuable harvest to ripen. You, too, must be patient. Take courage, for the coming of the Lord is near.” James 5:7-8

“‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ says the Lord. ‘They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future and a hope.’” Jeremiah 29:11

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” Revelation 21:4

Remnants of Hope

It's the middle of the night... or, the wee hours of the morning, depending on your perspective, I guess. I am frowning at a note I wrote in reponse to Anne Frank's musings about seven months ago...

“I can shake off everything as I write; my sorrows disappear, my courage is reborn.” ― Anne Frank 

Okay Anne Frank, I am taking your advice once again... sitting here in the dark sorting out my thoughts with my fingers on a back-lit keyboard. The seven other people whom reside in this house are asleep, leaving me to conversations in my mind with names that appear in my overcrowded AOL inbox, across my neverending Facebook feed, inside the e-books of my Kindle app, and between the random observations tweeting through the home page of my Twitter account.

I am thinking about what I would like to tell God - that I am tired of enduring, of waiting, of trusting. I would like to tell Him that I am doing everything that I have found in my path, and that I am ready to move to the next part of life, because being in this part for one more day cannot possibly accomplish anything more than it already has. I would like to ask Him what it is that I am doing wrong, so that I can get it right and come to the end of this waiting...

Seven months later, I am still here, weary... still tired of the enduring... way over the waiting... and in a neverending struggle with the trusting. If I were not forced to be here by my circumstances, would I stay here in this place that feels somewhat like suspended animation? Would I endure if I had a simple option not to? Would I wait if there were a "rush delivery" available to fix all of my problems? Am I actually even trusting like I think I am supposed to? When people say things like, "I don't know how you do it," my inner voice replies, "Do I even know how?", because I really do not think that I do. I think perhaps that God keeps me here in this place in my life, and that He may be the one doing the enduring... patiently waiting for me to finally learn the lessons He has for me, to somehow grasp the wisdom He offers. Maybe He is graciously allowing me to develop the strength and self control to make the choices on my own to trust and endure and to wait for the good things, even if suddenly I were faced with deceptively lovely options that would lead me down a different path than the one He knows is the best for me. Maybe, just maybe, what might appear to me as being restrained by my circumstances from progressing forward is actually the reality of me being held in the arms of God my Father to protect me from a world that I am not yet ready for.

As my mind wanders over these complicated thoughts tangled throughout my drowsy head, I think of another quote I recently read...

“Events may be horrible or inescapable, but people have always a choice - if not whether, then how, they may endure.”
― Lois McMaster Bujold

And perhaps Lois is right. It is true that I may not be choosing to endure at this point in my life, I may simply be enduring because a bit like the way the apostle Paul was physically imprisoned, God has not allowed me an escape from this emotional confinement. Even Paul from his prison cell said that always we have the choice of how to endure. Life and marriage and really, any relationship is about a constant adjusting and adapting of our attitudes and our perspectives of the things we find ourselves either in the midst of, or even just touched by the edge of.  

"Now your attitudes and thoughts must all be constantly changing for the better."
-Ephesians 4:23

I have spent the last six months trying to hang on to the hope we had been living with after my husband's surgery in the six months prior to those. I have spent the last ten weeks looking at the remnants of that hope as he left behind one treatment and moved towards something new.Yesterday, we held that new hope in our hands, afraid almost to see it, tentative in trusting that the something better that is to come could possibly be here. Yet, I do hope... because I am confident that no matter my lability of attitude and no matter my struggle to always comprehend the process, my God is always perfect and always loving and always kind. Because of that confidence in His goodness, I can hope for good things, even not knowing with certainty when or how they will come. 

"Faith is the confidence that what we hope for will actually happen; it gives us assurance about things we cannot see."-Hebrews 11:1

"So be truly glad! There is wonderful joy ahead, even though it is necessary for you to endure many trials for a while. These trials are only to test your faith, to show that it is strong and pure. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold -- and your faith is far more precious to God than mere gold. So if your faith remains strong after being tried by fiery trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world. You love him even though you have never seen him. Though you do not see him, you trust him; and even now you are happy with a glorious, inexpressible joy."
-1 Peter 1:6-8

God is good, all the time. All the time, God is good. 

I invite you to hope along with us.

Beauty in the Broken

A broken tree does not heal. It's true - a tree does not replace wounded or broken fibers with new wood. Instead, the tree permits the broken part to die and the tree moves on, growing around the wound. The tree allows its wound to simply scar over and exist, like a flaw that is present but no longer acknowledged as actively significant.1

"All this pain

I wonder if I’ll ever find my way

I wonder if my life could really change at all.

All this earth

Could all that is lost ever be found

Could a garden come up from this ground at all"2

One year ago yesterday, my husband was undergoing brain surgery. I can look back in my heart and remember I was afraid. I can look back in my mind and remember I was hopeful. Most importantly, I can look at today and know that even though the road from that experience has been difficult, has been dark, has been depressing - I can look at today and know that today is the one that matters.

Once a tree is injured, the wound will eventually become encased in a "knot", and new growth will simply begin on the perimeter of the wound where the healthy tree tissue is situated. Wounded trees can be freely observed most anywhere here in Northern Wisconsin.1 The "knot" of the wound is just a part of the tree. A tree steadily continues growing around its wound and moves on from it over a period of time.

A tree steadily continues growing 

around its wound and moves on from it over a period of time.

I look at my husband today, and I can see the faint scar that has formed over the four inch surgical incision that was made on the day of his brain surgery a year ago. I know that underneath, the physical malformation is still present. I know that a highly skilled and trustworthy surgeon applied a patch to passively prevent the anatomical defect from causing further damage as life goes on.

The knot in the tree is not a healed wound. It is a flaw, an imperfection, a part of the tree which essentially is not active - a scar. Yet, if the tree was able to recover properly with good support, whether natural or facilitated by a human, the existence of the knot will not cause more harm to the tree.1 

Sometimes wounds occur accidentally to a tree, but there are also times when a tree is cut intentionally, or pruned. The pruning is done for the purpose of health or for artistry. According to the Washington State University Extension, pruning of fruit trees is important to establish a firm structure, and to provide light channels throughout the tree so that the tree's fruit can mature well. It is important that a knowledgeable arborist does the pruning because improper cuts are potentially life-ending to a tree, while the correct ones will ensure the best access to sunlight so that an optimum harvest of fruit will result.3

The pruning is done for a purpose.

I see my husband in my memory of that day a year ago, in the hospital neurosurgery ICU - struggling to sit up, struggling to keep the world from spinning, struggling to tolerate the piercing invasive pain that had been inflicted with his own permission. What I remember most clearly, though, is the hope. The hope that sparked through the struggle, as we recognized a return of different physical aspects back to normal that had been suppressed by the compression of his brainstem for quite some time prior to the surgery. The hope that life was about to grow upward once again.

An arborist knows when and how and where to make pruning cuts on limbs, so that the tree has the best potential to close them with its natural defenses, and so that growth can continue beyond the wound, in the direction which the arborist deems best. Sometimes, however, the ensuing direction is unexpected, perhaps because the wound being cared for is not the only wound present1, or sometimes perhaps because the arborist is actually a designer... a visionary who sees the bigger picture... a creator who sees beauty in unusual places.

"You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us"3

God is an arborist - a tree gardener, a planter, a grower, a caretaker. He sows and waters and feeds and prunes. He creates, protects, shapes, and transforms. He invites us to gaze at His majestic work with wonder and praise and quiet awe. His vocation is poetic and authoritative and precise. He creates beauty in paradox, nurturing our souls to grow by finding freedom through the very act of becoming captive to His desires, shaping our spirits to be uplifted higher than we could ever fathom simply by bowing down before Him, renewing our lives and our perspectives even as we allow our selfishness to die in recognition of the perfect authority of His plans.

I see in my mind my husband's view a year ago. A view colored by the beginnings of hope, colored by the perspective that life would be moving on in a sensible and predictable direction, colored by a limited understanding that failed to see that everything will be alright even when it's not all right. And suddenly, I know that what I am seeing in my memory of his outlook is actually a reflection of my own finite vision.

“This is what the Sovereign Lord says: 

I myself will take a shoot from the very top of a cedar and plant it; 

I will break off a tender sprig from its topmost shoots 

and plant it on a high and lofty mountain. 

On the mountain heights of Israel I will plant it; 

it will produce branches and bear fruit and become a splendid cedar. 

Birds of every kind will nest in it; 

they will find shelter in the shade of its branches. 

All the trees of the forest will know that 

I the Lord bring down the tall tree and make the low tree grow tall. 

I dry up the green tree and make the dry tree flourish. 

I the Lord have spoken, and I will do it.” 

(Ezekiel 17:22-24 NIV)

I don't know why God chooses to move our lives in directions that seem long and shadowy and wearying. I don't know why this is the place we have journeyed to in pursuit of His plan and His wisdom and His care. It is not a place I have ever envisioned or would have chosen on my own... but I do know that sovereign means God has supreme authority. I do know that His compassion and goodness are never-ending. I do know that nothing in the universe happens that is outside of His influence.

"All around

Hope is springing up from this old ground

Out of chaos 

life is being found in You"3

I can look at today and know that this is the day that matters. Our knots may help shape us. Our knots may be a portion of who we have become. They may remind us of what we have been through and may have influence over where we are going. But our knots do not define us. What defines us is decided by the One who defines us... the One who created us... the One who tends to our wounds and covers them with a part of Himself... the One who sees the beauty and the value of our knots and who makes good grow out from all around them. The One who sees the individual tree and also sees its place in the greater forest.

"You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us"3

"But I am like an olive tree flourishing in the house of God; 

I trust in God’s unfailing love forever and ever. 

For what you have done 

I will always praise you in the presence of your faithful people. 

And I will hope in your name, for your name is good."

(Psalm 52:8-9 NIV)

I am like a tree fluorishing...

I trust in His love...

His love never fails...

I praise Him for all He has done...

I hope in His name...

for His name is GOOD.

1 Stringer, Larry A., and Jim R. LaBerge. "We Know Trees." How Do Trees Heal?Golden Rule Tree Service, 2012. Web. 04 Sept. 2014.

2 Gary, Moulton, and King Jacky. "Pruning Tree Fruit – The Basics." Pruning Tree Fruit. WSU Mount Vernon Research & Extension Unit, n.d. Web. 04 Sept. 2014.

3 Gungor. Beautiful Things. Brash Music, 2010. MP3.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OR7VOKQ0xJY