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

Breathe Peace

Here at our house, our family's Christmas tree is not yet decorated, even the strings of lights are lying in a jumble under the bare tree branches. No Christmas cookies have been baked so far, although there are crumbs on the counter from ones that Grandma brought a few days ago. Our house is not prepared inside for Christmas - but that's okay, because we are learning that the Advent season is more about preparing the inside of our hearts. This month, my family and I and our stubborn hearts, are being given many opportunities to learn patience for doing things as we can and for letting go, in peace, of what we can't. We are learning to appreciate time together, even when things are not going right,(which is much of the time... so obviously, we must need a lot of practice!)

Today, we were running late for church as usual - some of us too focused on being ready for the Children's Christmas Program to notice the minutes flying by, all of us not morning people and thinking more about our pillows than our clocks. After three attempts at hollering down the stairs, my tone carried enough urgency to motivate my drowsy troupe into waiting in the car. I returned to the bathroom mirror alone and awkwardly twisted my arm behind my back in an attempt to finish zipping my dress with a reach just shy of effective. Finally, I paused with frustration at my struggling reflection, looked into the mirror, and breathed deliberately. I reminded myself (as I often do) to quiet my heart and allow calm in, to open myself to peace. After all, the unchangeable truth is that God is still God, even if we're late for church! 

A short time later (feeling encouraged by my one last determined and successful effort to conquer the elusive dress zipper), I pulled our vehicle into the church parking lot. We surreptiously slipped in a side door of the building to avoid friendly greeters at the front who might absorb minutes of smiles and small-talk that we did not have available to invest at the moment. (But usually, we are glad to feel very welcomed by the greeters!) Releasing a sigh with my dwindling tension, I nudged my own kids and a few other stragglers to find their groups that would be lining up for their performance entry soon. Then I deftly navigated a path to a familiar seat as the church service unfolded. With a spirit of expectation, I settled in, all the while reflecting on the many past years of enjoying my kids' Christmas performances.

What I was thinking about in particular, as I waited, was how the holiday children's pageants at church are truly about the reality of what Christmas means. We moms and dads watch with wonder and bated breath, straining our necks to glimpse our kids celebrating the gift of the Baby Jesus. Older church attendees chuckle affectionately at the crooked halos, beam at our little ones' earnest efforts to sing out the joyful notes, lean forward as Mary and Joseph debate in nervous whispers whether it is time yet to hold up the well-loved doll representing the newborn King. Sometimes, a few tears are shed as a nervous child's heart longs for the comfort of her father's arms over the spotlight of overwhelming attention amid the crowd on the stage. Sometimes, the tears are those of the audience as each observer shares a common joy in the faith of a child displayed. All of the bits and pieces of the moments we observe are highly treasured and pondered on altars of love.


Christmas pageants remind us that as a baby, Jesus was born into an imperfect world. He was a precious gift given with unconditional love by our Father in heaven to us, His children on earth. He was the gift of a Savior from our Father God, who gazes affectionately at us as we fumble about, experiencing life and the organized chaos surrounding us... who smiles with pleasure whenever we choose to graciously bring our joy to Him and recognize the good things He daily blesses us with... whose heart aches with ours when we struggle with pain or shed tears over the exacting circumstances that happen in separation from Him... who fills us with peace over the miracle of it all, when we realize that all of this imperfection only makes the beauty of our story shine that much more brightly.

God fills us with peace over the miracle of it all, when we realize that all of this imperfection only makes the beauty of our story shine that much more brightly. 

Later on at home, my heart is soothed by the peace and the joy that God pours over me when I contemplate the gifts He has for me even just in these evening moments  - the sounds of my family teasing each other as we finally come together and hang the colorful, vintage sized Christmas lights on the tree... the happy reminiscing that occurs while old ornaments are mingled among a few new and distributed with affection among heavy laden tree branches...the quietness that comes upon me as I breathe in and breathe out again, watching those I love most in the world illustrate in their actions the same gladness that I feel playing on my own lips...  breathing in the peace that is present.

When the little ones are asleep, my thoughts return one more time to our church service that morning - to the compelling message that our knowledgeable senior pastor shared with us after the pageant. He expressed that the peace of Christmas which we experience today manifests as a peace within ourselves. We come by it when we invite God to place His peace within us, even when there is not peace around us. God's peace for today, is an inner rest, a freedom from anxiety, from worry and despair. This peace is a gift that is available from God for each of us, and all that we have to do to receive it is to trust in Him. I know that for myself, I find that the more difficult my life gets, the more I need to deliberately focus my trust on what God has promised me. Author A.W.Tozer wrote,  "To have found God and still to pursue Him is the soul's paradox of love." I can understand Tozer's curious premise as I, too, have discovered that the more I focus on trusting God, the more peace I receive. The more peace I receive, the more I focus on trusting God. He has blessed me with the present of His presence in my present - with the gift of His peace in my life on this day.

Later still, as I lay in my own bed, I consider the additional gifts God has given to me lovingly wrapped within the walls of my church - the friendships, the lessons, the support, the joy, the security, the encouragement, the prayers... I think about how these gifts, as God has meant them,  are living and growing and powerful gifts, colored with the potential and the intention to spill out of the wrappings, beyond the church building, into my life and community, and even into the world!

I am praying that each one of you reading these words will open your heart to receive God's gift of peace during this Christmas season, and that you will continue to seek Him in all of life's seasons that follow. 

"You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you!
(Isaiah 26:3 NLT) 

May God give you more and more grace and peace as you grow in your knowledge of God and Jesus our Lord. 

(2 Peter 1:2) 

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us. The government will rest on his shoulders. And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 

(Isaiah 9:6 NLT) 

I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” 
(John 16:33 NLT) 

“Don’t let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God, and trust also in me. 

(John 14:1 NLT) 

I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit. 

(Romans 15:13 NLT) 

And just as they were telling about it, Jesus himself was suddenly standing there among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. 

(Luke 24:36 NLT) 

Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus. 

(Philippians 4:7 NLT) 

And let the peace that comes from Christ rule in your hearts

(Colossians 3:15 NLT) 

So letting your sinful nature control your mind leads to death. But letting the Spirit control your mind leads to life and peace. 

(Romans 8:6 NLT)

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