Bad Day, Good Day

August 31, 2015

You'll know what kind of day it was when I say that I'm thankful to have filled the new tractor without spilling any fuel. Yeah, that was the best part of the day. We went to see Alex, but don't know any more about her condition than we did last week. As soon as her antibiotic wears off, her temperature spikes, so she's still in the hospital and we're here praying. When we got home, I figured I could use the time before men's group to open up the entry room doorway preparatory to installing a new front door. It's a good thing I did; the water that had been occasionally seeping in had rotted the backing for the siding and the trim boards. Needing to replace the door turned out to be a good thing. The fact that the opening isn't standard isn't. The door I bought has to go back and I'll need to special order one to fit. I can't lower the threshold because the door wouldn't clear the floor, and I can't raise the header without tearing out the entire inside wall covering. Not gonna happen. So, a new door it is.

It's replacing the tile that cracked that was the final straw. I have three tiles left, and need at least two to finish the floor by the door. It's going to be tight, and a bit ticklish to get the broken one out without damaging its neighbors. But I got the tractor filled without spilling any diesel!

If the worst things that ever happen in my life are a special order door and replacing a broken tile, I am a blessed man indeed. Alex will get better. We don't know any of the details, but we are trusting our God for her healing. All this other stuff pales by comparison to the well-being of those we love. Tonight when I arrived at men's group, a list of prayer requests was waiting on the table. It included prayer requests for people battling life-threatening illness, addictions, families torn apart by divorce, and such like. That's what really matters. I am grateful for the perspective these prayer lists give me, and for the privilege of being on the praying side of things. Doors and tile are nothing. It's the people who matter...to God, and to me.

Prayer in Spite of...

August 30, 2015

Worship this morning did what true worship always does: it aligned my thinking and heart with the greatness of God. From the music to the preaching, everything about the service funneled all my turbulent and scattered thoughts, feelings, and prayers into the wideness of God's mercy found in the narrow way of the Cross. The storm I've been navigating has been largely of my own making as I've watched helplessly while my granddaughter lies in a hospital bed, seemingly no closer to finding out what's wrong than we were a week ago. I say 'my own making' because her situation is what it is; it's my mental spin on it that is causing me trouble. Scripture commands me to bring every thought captive to Christ; I've let those thoughts run wild instead of rounding them up and ushering them into the corral of faith. Al's condition doesn't appear to be life-threatening, and is certainly at this point not on a par with what I've seen countless people endure, but I've not been ready until last night to fully release her into God's hands. Last night, I finally did so, and today I was able to actually join in worship in spirit as well as in body.

Pastor Joe was speaking today about sins...OUR sins. Christians are often susceptible to enumerating the sins of others while ignoring those of which we are guilty. St. Paul deals with this attitude quite effectively when he lists things like lust, adultery, theft and murder right alongside greed, pride, a critical spirit, and unbelief. What we call sins of the flesh are no more heinous in the sight of God than those we tend to excuse. Sin has an exceedingly fine edge, and whether great or small, severs the connection between God and ourselves. For me, I've had to confess the sins of unbelief and fear. Confession is good for the soul, and once I acknowledged the truth of what I was doing and repented of it, the way was clear for God to again reveal himself to me. I wish I had the confidence others have that God will do exactly as I ask, but I can't say that. I still pray for Alex without any sense of assurance about what God will do, but with a willingness to listen and trust, no matter what.

Jacob Prevailed...And So Did I!

August 29, 2015

The past week has admittedly been quite a struggle for me as like Jacob, I've been wrestling with God. Our granddaughter has been quite ill, apparently with something she picked up while on her mission trip to Uganda. I've been praying for her, but admittedly without much confidence. I admire those who can simply take Scriptures and apply them to their circumstances with certainty, but most of the time I am not one of them. I can recite Scripture after Scripture that speaks of God's care for us, his good will towards us, his promised blessings, healings, etc., but I am also acutely aware that God's ways are not the same as mine, and that God's people are not assured of smooth sailing. His faithful ones have been persecuted and even martyred by the tens of thousands. Jesus even promised that if he suffered, his followers must also, for the servant is not greater than the master. All this means that while I pray for her healing, I by no means have assurance that it will be, which is very unsettling for me.

Yesterday an old friend sent me the lyrics to a song entitled "Sometimes He Calms the Storm; Sometimes He Calms the Child." This afternoon, I looked it up on YouTube, played it through, then clicked on a couple other songs dealing with the same theme. "Praise You in the Storm," and "Sometimes it Takes a Storm" were both particularly helpful, but what really helped me turn a corner was a simple Scripture. It isn't a promise of blessing, but is instead a statement of fact. Speaking of Abraham, St. Paul said that "he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God" (Romans 4:20). This Scripture made me think, and it occurred to me that as long as I focused on the problem and on my fears, my heart is grounded in unbelief and worry. It is when I give God glory no matter what that my faith begins to kick in and grow. In my wrestling, this Scripture helped me turn a corner. It took me a bit longer, but like Jacob, I began to overcome.

The issue really is one of trust. Can I trust God to be good even if my prayers are not answered the way I would like? Do I believe in his sovereignty, his mercy, his goodness and grace, irrespective of whether life lifts me up or beats me down? It is counterintuitive, but absolutely critical to keep my eyes and heart on Jesus Christ. There is just too much evil, too much negativity in this world, and it will surely bring me down if I dwell on it. Some may think I'm sticking my head in the sand (or somewhere else that I won't mention here), but what I'm really doing is sticking my heart to the Cross where God's love was nailed down for all eternity. I know he loves Alex even more than I do, and that whatever comes will have his gracious fingerprints all over it. I still don't know what the outcome of my prayers will be. But I am grateful tonight for God's faithfulness in holding on to me this past week when I was riding out the storm much like the disciples as they cried out, "Don't you care that we perish?" As it turned out, they didn't, and neither Al nor I will, either. The day will come for both of us when God's summons comes and we must answer. Till then, it is our task and our blessing to make ready for that call, and know that when it comes, it will be good.

Prayers When You Can't Pray

August 28, 2015

Tonight I laid the last of the tile in our entry room. Grout is next, and then it's done. Normally, finishing a major portion of a task would be the subject of my gratitude journal, but right now, it's pretty low on my list of what is important. Our granddaughter Alex is in a waiting room at Buffalo General waiting for a specialist. The emergency room is full of people and no beds are available. So we wait; another hard gift of grace. I've worked through the afternoon and evening, but my heart isn't in it. The work just keeps me busy, my mind occupied. I don't know how to reconcile Al's illness with God's grace, mercy, and love, so I'm having to trust, and I have to confess, I don't like it one bit. Not knowing what is wrong and being unfamiliar with parasitic disease, we fear what we don't know.

If Al were our only concern, it would be enough, but our neighbor is battling cancer, and I could list a dozen situations right off the top of my head where friends are facing circumstances that threaten to unravel all they hold dear. Years ago, a young woman in our congregation was deathly ill. She recovered, and when she got back to church, thanked everyone for their prayers. "Sometimes you are so sick you can't even pray for yourself," she said. "That's when you depend on the prayers of others." Tonight, my prayers feel so powerless and futile. Words get stuck in my throat and my heart is barren. We are leaning hard on God, and on the prayers of his faithful people. In the midst of our questioning and all the scenarios our minds can conjure up when the imagination runs wild, we lean hard, and are grateful for those who pray when we cannot.

Hotter Than...

August 27, 2015

The heat is almost oppressive, but I have to admit it's my own fault. We have a guest camped out in the back room, swathed in blankets and comforters, shivering with fever. Nate and Deb are at visitation for her uncle who passed away the other day and didn't wan't Alex to be alone for the evening, so she's been here with us. The Millstone Room is furthest from the furnace, so even with the thermostat set at 72, it stays cool. Thus the fire I built in the stove. Yeah, it's hot in here.

I was the one who made the offer to have her here, but Linda is the one who does most of the work, checking Al's temperature, making sure she has what she needs while I was working on the entry room tile. My gratitude tonight is simple. I'm thankful to live near enough that Alex could come stay with us while she's sick; I'm thankful to have a house with a wood stove so we could heat the room without turning the entire house into a sauna, and I am thankful for my wife whose love and tenderness towards our grandchildren has no end.

Dedication or Devotion?

August 26, 2015

This morning I read an article that highlighted the difference between dedication and devotion, a distinction I hadn't before noticed. The author said, "My dedication is a lot more about whatever it is that I am doing to demonstrate my commitment than it is about the thing or person to whom I am supposedly dedicated...The Christian faith is not about increasing one’s dedication. It’s about undivided devotion; abandoning oneself to God in Love. Dedication is about self. Devotion is about the other." This made me wonder how often I've dedicated myself to Christ's mission, to the church, to my wife and kids; but how often have I devoted myself to the same? How often have I gritted my spiritual teeth, dug in and tried harder instead of just loving God or my family?

The end result may not look much different, but what is happening is vastly different. Dedication deals with me; my effort, my determination, my desires, while devotion ignores the self in its absorption in the other. Love calls for devotion, not dedication. Dedication is a lot more work, and sees the sacrifice. Devotion is almost effortless, and sacrifices unselfconsciously. I wish I had learned this years ago, but am grateful that the lessons keep coming, even in retirement.

Comfort in the Storm

August 25, 2015

When I began this journey of gratitude over two years ago, I followed a schedule of prompts that suggested things for which to be thankful. One of the recurring suggestions was called "hard eucharistos," the hard blessings of God. It's largely a foreign concept for us North American Christians, indoctrinated as we are with variations of the Prosperity Gospel that considers it axiomatic that God's purposes for us always lean towards health, success, and the absence of failure, disappointment, suffering, and loss. Our brothers and sisters in Africa, the Middle East, and the Orient are much more Biblical than we, knowing as they do that it is through much suffering that we enter the kingdom of God (Acts 14:22). In our way of thinking, it doesn't make sense that God's blessing may not result in our well being. This is indeed, a hard teaching.

It's nearly 10:00 pm, and Linda and I have just gotten home from the ER in Jamestown, where our granddaughter Alexandria has undergone tests to try to determine the cause of her headaches and fever. Having just returned from six weeks in Uganda, there's no shortage of weird possibilities. They've ruled out malaria, but are suspecting some sort of parasitic fever. So we've been praying. Without ceasing, as St. Paul commands. That is one command that right now is easy to obey. What is hard is his directive to give thanks in all things (1 Thessalonians 5:18). I haven't yet figured out how to give thanks for my granddaughter's illness. The closest I'm able to come right now is gratitude for her parents not ignoring or minimizing her symptoms, for her doctor who instead of seeing her, sent her directly to the hospital for tests, for the people who are caring for her as I write, and for those I'll never meet whose research has made possible the detection and treatment of diseases most of us can't even pronounce.

I don't like having to learn to pray at the expense of my granddaughter, but I am grateful that I have recourse to prayer. Just stewing in worry is never a good thing, and while my heart is anxious and my mind can conjure up all sorts of bad scenarios, I still take comfort in the love and mercy of my Heavenly Father whose love for Alex is far greater than mine ever could be.