God's Success

Dying to live, giving to have, surrender to conquer, and choosing to leave the choice with God are all part of that life that measures with the life of God... the life of human failure that allows God to succeed. Such a life can be rightly called an ultimate success, because it is not human success. It is a success of the power of Heavenly transformation. 

Our usefulness and destiny 
Depend not on our birth,
And beauty is no guarantee
Of what a life is worth.

The genius, or the master mind,
Speak not of moral weight.
Too often those of brilliance find
They've learned it far too late.



It isn't chance or incident
That tells us who we are.
One failure does not represent
Our aptitude and par.

It's rather in the daily choice
That we can see our make,
Our habits tell with candid voice
If we're a fraud or fake.



But even habits can be changed
And molded by our Lord.
Our filthiness can be exchanged—
His heart in us restored.

It's work that only He can do—
To carve in us His face.
Each blow is shaping us anew,
Each stroke another grace.

He will not strike us needlessly,
He knows our feeble frame,
And how to make us fully free
Of sin and all its shame.



So no it isn't prettiness
That makes a girl like gold,
Nor is in strength the manliness
That makes his worth untold.

But in yielding up the will,
Despite the cost and pain,
Is found the one essential skill
For true success and gain.

Butterflies and Psalm 46:10

      03:17. It’s dark out, I muse as I cocoon myself in the covers. Wait! I’m awake! ...thank You Father. You are so faithful. My only alarm clock since the nursing retreat has been a still, small voice calling me to commune with Him, but this black morning was no time to be late. My doubts of the previous evening take on their proper appearance. With 163 minutes till our first clinical, the first lesson is hitting home. God is faithful. There are no qualifiers, no footnotes, and no fine print in the matter. Even “if we believe not, yet He abideth faithful: He cannot deny Himself.” 2 Timothy 2:13.
      Scissors, keys, stethoscope, name tag... Butterflies. Oh the minutia of which to be mindful! How will I remember it all? Again, the calming balm of Gilead settles upon the restless waters of my heart. Trust Me. If I care enough to wake you up for extra time with Me on this particular morning, do you think I will care enough to see you through this particular day?
      He cares enough- enough for the sapling of faith in this heart to sink down her roots. He cares enough to tenderly stretch me far enough, but not to breaking. Surprisingly the butterflies seemed to get lost between Weimar and Westview. Perhaps it was too early for them, but I knew that I knew that our God would see me through.
      ...and He did too. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  

My mind saunters back through the scenes of the past year. A year ago, this was a thought- an impression. One to which I was not altogether open. Yet, the thought would not go away. At every roadblock the signpost read go forward. The more impossible things got, the stronger came the call. What started out looking like a "light thing" quickly changed shape into one of the loftiest, most challenging summits I have yet to meet. It became quite clear that if God wanted me in the program this fall, He would have to do something extraordinary. Or rather, some things extraordinary. 
      ...and He did too.

•  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  •  

      So I wonder if someone might be facing such a paradoxical situation. Maybe everything is piling up on the "no" column, except for that essential vote. Impossible situations are precious opportunities for God to make perfectly clear what is His will in the matter. That is what we want, is it not? To know that God is in this thing?
      Difficulties always come, but when you know that your power did not get you to those challenges, you can also rest that His power will get you through those challenges. It is then that we can be still and know.

God Rules Above

Though most of the time spent near this little garden was full of very wearying pursuits, the pictures paint portraits of peaceful moments spent in the garden. How often are we very near to the garden, but not there, still not with the Gardener. Those moments with Him are better than the "necessities" of life. The word is life to those that find it. Burdens lighten, stresses dissolve, for humanity can see that there is One who orders the affairs of men. One who orders things right. 

God rules above.

Why be anxious oh my soul?

God rules above.

And He holds supreme control,

Yet reigns in love.

For the times when all seems grim,

Let us only look to Him,

And those troubles will grow dim,

God rules above.

Circumstances may look bleak,

But trust His hand

For He leadeth still the meek,

To better land.

All we have may be too small,

But 'tis then we must recall,

That One ruleth overall,

God rules above.

When confusion weighs the mind

Which way to go,

When the eyesight seems so blind

It cannot know,

Then on bended knee behold,

As our Guide will there unfold,

All the map that we can hold,

God rules above.

RD//On the Road//Picture Post//Day 5

             Raw Apple Crisp

            Dining out in RD style 

      Tried out waitressing today...

Or if your not in the mood for rice, you could try Pizza, Pasta, Mexican, and Fast Food. Anyone hungry?

         Final lecture- Choice and the Will

               Elated and exhausted

RD//On the Road//Picture Post//Day 1

         On the wings of the morning. 

                         Arrival

                  The new mascot

    Room arranging...then rearranging...

     

                  The hospital lobby

Happy. Tired. Blessed. Weary. Thankful. 

A Compass, a Question, and an Amazing God

      Fresh, clean, quiet. There are few times in a week I relish more than Friday night. The tide of the week has receded. Little pools alone remain as it were, calm and still. The light of day softens to gold, gilding the evening as if in welcome. 

We sit, usually. Absorbed in something of study, or thought, or just in the picture out the window. And then it happens. Someone looks up. It could be any of us. We all know the routine. But we all love it, and somebody has to start it. 

Shall we talk about what we’re thankful for? 

And thus ensues the evening. 

Sometimes when discouragement or weariness threatens, we widen the mold. Friday night, Sunday night, Tuesday morning, it doesn’t matter. What are you thankful for?

It’s a kind of calibration system, a compass for where we’re at. Disappointments and trials may come, but thanksgiving notwithstanding acknowledges that we have received good at the hand of God. That we receive, and God gives. 

And His giving is good. For that is the way He is. 

Because Thy lovingkindness is better than life, my lips shall praise Thee. Thus I will bless Thee while I live. Psalm 63:3-4

The reality that God is, (that merciful, gracious, righteous, is He, and that He is real), is enough to supply the fund of our praise. 

Take out your compass. Maybe it’s dusty. Maybe it’s had recent use, but regardless, it bares a loaded question. Loaded that is, with health-giving, life-giving, blessing:

What are you thankful for?

Impossible Prayers & Morning Miracles

Birds sing. Red and gold streak across pastel blue as if crowning a miracle. The coolness and freshness of morning air caress sleep from my eyes. Today dawns a miracle, but another miracle captivates now. 

Not that God gives good gifts… He does. 

Not that God cares for temporal necessities… He does. 

Not that He owns hills of gold, and cattle times thousands… He does.

It’s that…  He rules in the impossible. 

That a child’s prayer is heard by the King of the Universe. That He finds no complexity in our perplexity. That unfeasible realities, farfetched dreams, impossible hopes- to human sight, look very different to Omnipotence. 

A miracle times two, but really beyond numbering floods my heart with wonder. Two and half years ago, two and a half really solid impossibilities stood in my path. And really, it doesn't matter what impossibilities face us. Today, the answer is two inches from my eyes: God rules the impossible. 

  God’s working is miraculous. 
  His storehouse is sufficient.

  His answers to prayer are as sure as His name. 

...and that's present tense.

Philippians: 126 Radiation

“That your rejoicing may be more abundant in Jesus Christ for me by my coming to you again.” Philippians 1:26

How can a human being

Impart abundant joy?

Especially while facing

Such trials that annoy?

How can one be so noble

As not to whine and sigh,

While fettered and immobile,

And likely soon to die?

True joy is not created

By those who dwell on earth

But yet it’s radiated

From those of second birth.

It’s only in receiving

That humans can impart,

The joy of faith’s believing

Into another’s heart. 

Philippians: 125 Purpose

“And having this confidence, I know I shall abide and continue with you all for your furtherance and joy of faith;” Philippians 1:25

Life is a trust too holy for selfish use. 

There's a reason to get up in the morning.

Heaven gives that purpose.

And lives that purpose.

•   •   •   •   •   •   •

And lives that purpose.

There’s a purpose to be living;

There’s a challenge to fulfill;

And it always takes relinquishing

Our own deceitful will.

For we live to serve our Savior-

As His very hands and feet.

So that in all of our behavior

Heaven’s joy might be replete.

And yet this purpose practically,

Is high and deep, it’s true.

For in serving Jesus faithfully,

We’ll serve our brother too.

Philippians: 121 Life

“For to me to live is Christ, and to die is gain.” Philippians 1:21

In attending a creation conference, I see this verse with the spectacles of genesis.

Life in creation and salvation have the same origin. 

Christ is life.

        Life is Christ.

             In Him, death is nothing less than gain. 

If something can’t come from nothing,

Nor matter be born with years;

If life cannot come into being

When never before it appears;

If eggs cannot come back together

When poured into saline test bowls;

I tell you my friend, altogether

The One who made us, made our souls.

You see, life cannot come to a desert

Except by the unnatural rain.

Nor dead things to living revert

When they do not have life to regain.

To live as a christian is higher

Than our highest thinking can go.

It’s change too profound and entire

For it to take ions to grow.

My friend, when we know our Creator

As Him who is living and gain,

We’ll know Him the more as Redeemer

Who grants life from His own dying vein.

This miracle will not take ages

To form a new creature in Christ.

You see, God has paid for sin’s wages,

And Jesus shed blood has sufficed.

This power of God for creation

Is redemptive as well at its core.

For one would dispense with salvation

In banishing what came before.

And how can we know where we’re going

If God cannot create today,

A heart in whom Jesus is living-

When life is His own word away?

Philippians: 115 Preach

“Some indeed preach Christ even of envy and strife; and some also of good will.” Philippians 1:15

There is preaching in the pulpit,

There's a sermon in the street,

There is teaching when you stand or sit—

Wherever go your feet.

Every person is a discourse,

For the values that they hold.

Each decision acts to reinforce

The sermon that is told.

So be careful of your actions

That will preach goodwill or strife,

For beneath those interactions

Will be speaking death or life.

Simple Song - Unfathomable God// Part llll 7 Minute Layover

My God is so great, so strong and so mighty,

There’s nothing my God cannot do.

It could end there, but it doesn’t. 

The mountains are His,

The valleys are His,

The skies are His handiwork too.

Ding! 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please remain seated with your seat belts securely fastened. We are still in active transit to our gate. Thank you.”

My flying companions ruefully settled back into their seats for the few remaining moments of our “active transit.” We were all in the same boat, or rather, we were all on the same plane. Wintertime travel + plane de-icing = —time. It is impossible to roll toward takeoff exactly an hour after schedule, and not make for subsequently tight connections. 

We jerk to a stop. I had been tracking our tardiness beside the schedule. By that word, our arrival would be 5 minutes after the door of probation would shut. I look at my phone: 12:48. This left room to hope. 7 minutes of it.That’s 7 minutes for our door to open, everyone in front of me to wrestle their bags out of the overhead bins, and me to get to the other end of the opposite terminal. This is impossible. …But… 

The mountains belong to God. Those things that tower over us in massive defiance, threatening to topple upon us any moment. Those things that we cannot conquer, though we try. Those things, belong to God. In the face of sure defeat, we are to put our trust in Him who owns the mountains. 

Though He is well able to, God does not give us eagle’s wings to soar away from our difficulties in blissful flight. What He gives us is strength as our days. Strength to climb the mountains. Every ounce of our will power may be taxed, but the strength of God is as sure as the mountain. So we must run. 

And run I did. The whole way. My best efforts alone could not guarantee that flight, but neglecting the little humanity could do would guarantee failure. I have half a mind to leave the story there. The rest doesn’t matter. God has a plan for your life, and for mine. If He sees best that we miss a flight, that our plans get messed up, or that our hopes must find their rest deeper in Him, what difference is it? God’s plan is better. 

But I won't do that. :) Catching my breath in seat 31F, 7 minutes later, I marveled at the greatness of my God. 

The mountains.really.are.His.

Simple Song - Unfathomable God // Part lll Prerequisite to Power

My God is so great, so strong and so mighty,

There’s nothing my God cannot do.

Nothing. This defies defeat. Reason, sight, gravity, all come to a crashing halt before the God of the impossible. He makes beautiful the things which are not. He finishes what He began. He is not limited by our limited comprehension of Him. 

He moved the sun backward…

…and made it stand still

He made water pile up on itself… 

... and an axe to float

He made people to walk on a lake... 

...and He fed thousands with one person’s lunch

The sun may appear to have set in your life, but God can make it move backward.

Life may seem to be drowning you in it's tide, but God made dry land in the middle of a sea, and iron to swim in the Jordan river.

If your heart is a gaping hole and you cannot satisfy it’s hunger, remember that God who fed thousands with one lad’s lunch, can feed one with the resources of all heaven.

There’s nothing my God cannot do...

This is hope enough for me. 

But He waits. Hungering as only a Father can for His child's heart, He waits. With longing, knowing that He has the satisfaction for every heart cry of humanity, He waits. For an invitation. A choice. A decision cast in the solitude of the soul. A surrender laid deep and whole. A simple word in answer to a simple question.      Will you let Me be your God?

In one word.

Yes.

Normal Life

Two months and five days later to be exact. Normal life is returning, both faster and slower than I care it to. “Restrictions” sluggishly carry on for two more weeks: no lifting, pushing, or pulling more than 20 lbs. (which basically equals no work.) No running, and definitely no jumping. No ladders. No scaffolding. No violin. 

At least singing isn’t forbidden. Chewing is permitted as long as it doesn’t hurt. :)

The post-surgery pain is gone… almost. Exceptions arise on a walk, an obstinate pile of rice, a bumpy ride, and sometimes no apparent reason at all. Those squishy blue gel-packs from the freezer still feel heavenly. 

Mostly though, things are normal. Pause.

…What is normal? 

Far too many have never known a pain-free day. The world is saturated with crippled, hurting people. Who is going to help them?

The abundance of kindness and sympathy given me is a royal waste if it’s not passed on. Whatever blessing you or I receive, gives it’s truest gift, as we put it in the hands of another. Simply, It is more blessed to give than to receive. 

And this, I know is true. The self-sacrificing work, is the only satisfying work. Whether grateful eyes look deep into yours, or you hold only the consciousness of right doing, that. is. satisfaction. Why?

Because we were made to give. We were made to be like God. And He gives.

That means… 

       …God meant giving to be normal.

Then that's the normal we want...

Rubber bands: day and night for ever and ever.
.  .  .
(Until they're done, you understand :)

The Son-beams Perspective

Perspective: that powerful placer of situations and stressors. These spectacles are neither rose-tinted, nor mal-adjusted. They simply put life in it's proper sphere. 

As wonderful as it may be, perspective does not change the object of attention. It expands the picture frame. Cloudy disturbances may float their way across life's screen no matter how big a frame you hammer out. 

Therefore, look higher. 

      There are still Son-beams in the sky. :)

There's one cloud in the sky-
A little one at that,
And yet it draws the eye
As if a flying cat.

How often what we see
Is where we choose to turn.
Our view may be cloud free
If only this we learn.

So turn toward the light
And catch those golden gleams.
For clouds are even bright
When glowing with sunbeams :)

The Gift of Pain

There is so much of it in this world. Rare is the day when a patient answers me in the negative. Huh? No pain? I croak. If they only knew how uncommon they are.

Two weeks have given me a taste of where the world lives. Small taste for sure. Nonetheless, it paints a different color to life. Endure. Get through. Look beyond. 

It's a gift- the pain. When a middle-aged patient is sobbing right there, moaning in distress, what is this 21 year old supposed to say? Maybe these last weeks will help to answer that question next time. 

Seems superficial though. The pangs of the world are too deep for human compassion. 

So the gift. Much bigger, as God does things. Musculoskeletal aches,  and tingling nerves aside. My pain by proxy on His back. Broader, deeper, sharper than anything etched in language, heavier than anything we can lift, is that burden. Willingly He shouldered what would have... should have crushed us. I can't relate to their pain, but He can. Therefore, He can gaze into the eyes of a hurting world, and say, I know. I felt that anguish times infinity.

So here's the call. Their pain is an opportunity for His love. Jesus doesn't just remove our burden of pain. Rather, He gives a burden of love in its place. It's a love that's willing to hurt, to pound with the pangs of the human heart. 

The aim is not in the hurting though. It's in the healing. Eternally. No more pain- for the former things are passed away. 

Let us be persuaded. There is a Balm in Gilead. Nothing shall separate us from it. No depth. No height. No throbbing ache. No nothing. The pain He took was deep, but His heart of love was deeper. 

Still is. 

Marvelous Love. Marvelous Gift. 

The Gospel According to the Third Floor of Kaiser

August 27 dawned about as spunkily as a yearly event that you know is coming, but always shows up before it ought to. No, it wasn't a surprise, it just came quickly. 

There were about ten bleary seconds in the OR to my consciousness, and then it was recovery. Honestly, the mandibular osteotomy, a.k.a. jaw surgery was the easy part. 

I do not wish here to turn anyone's stomach, just to send the message to your heart that came to mine. :)

Up three stories for a night's stay in Kaiser. The bleeding had not completely stopped, evidenced by the formerly white cloth at my neck. In fact, the tail was told down to my socks. There is something starkly soiled when that vital red stuff is on your clothes. Maybe it's just me. I'm not terribly bothered by my own blood (and coming out of anesthesia, not bothered by much at all), but something wastes no time to cry "unclean" when it's landed on cotton. 

So there I am. Unclean. Still bleary. Awake to very little, yet groggily aware of the dirtiness yours truly was in. And Into that collection of shadows she steps. A total stranger. Cleaning my face. Changing my socks. Taking away the defiled garments. For.ever. 

It's not the nobility of nursing. Not the commendation of cleanliness... We're leaving regions of ice packs and hospital rooms. It's that Someone so clean would deign to take away the filthiness of someone so dirty. That One who is known and worshipped by seraphim and cherubim would wipe blood off the face of a stranger.

It would be enough to be clean. Pure. Holy. Justified. But the blood that stains the children of Adam, is not primarily their own. It's His. 

Right. 

He bleeds from the wounds I have made. But in His blood is the DNA of purity and holiness. Both to will. And to do. In place of stained socks He gives the preparation of the gospel of peace. In place of a filthy garment, His own. 

Jesus stoops over a bleeding world. His precious blood, mingling with His tears, drips faster. Then looking into eternity He sees a people, clothed in pure and white linen. He sees the palms, the crowns. He sees cleanness of heart. And He begins to work. To wash. To clothe. To restore. To purify. 

Soon the faith of Jesus will be rewarded. Soon He will claim His own. Soon He will dwell with those who have clean hands and a pure heart. Face to face. For.ever. 

Made white, a.k.a. clean, in the blood of the Lamb. For.ever.