Never Not Safe, For the Light

Last Thursday I wrote about Eliana, that she was hurt at the playground, and how I was worried about how hurt she was. I was more than worried; I was anxious, even afraid. That night, I tried to remind myself that what we hear throughout the entire Bible is,"Do not be afraid." The angels say it, the prophets say it, Jesus himself says it, over and over again. We are encouraged in this way, and not that we might be unafraid blindly, or without knowing why. We are given the reason; we are his very own. We belong to the Creator of the universe, to the heavenly Father, himself.

John begins his Gospel with shocking news: "Yet to all who did receive him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God— children born not of natural descent, nor of human decision or a husband’s will, but born of God." (vv. 12-13)

John reminds us that Jesus had revealed his Father's great love for the world, in that "he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life." (v. 16) Later in Jesus' ministry, Jesus speaks to the Pharisees, calling himself the shepherd and the gate for his sheep. He explains this further to those that are following him,"'I give them [my sheep] eternal life, and they shall never perish; no one will snatch them out of my hand. My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all; no one can snatch them out of my Father’s hand.'" (vv. 28-29)

Our Senior Pastor, Ron, reminded us parents on Sunday that these words, no, these promises are true today if we sincerely meant what we vowed when our children were baptized, for God is faithful. He went on to offer his personal witness "that the promise that we and our children-as believers caught up in God's covenant-- are never not safe" is true, no matter what it looks like from the perspective of the world. He spoke as a father who has buried one child and survived cancer with another. He repeated it, and it bears repeating: we are in the hollow of the Savior's hand, and we cannot be taken from that place of shelter and refuge. We are never not safe. Each one of us is held fast, and as Paul says:

What, then, shall we say in response to these things [present sufferings]? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:

“For your sake we face death all day long;
    we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. (vv. 31-39)

When Ron does baptize, children and adults alike, he always ends with,"And whether you live or die, you belong to the Lord." These are powerful and comforting (to me) words. It reminds me that I need to understand every Scripture through the cross of Christ. How is it possible that God can make a promise like,"'For I know the plans I have for you...plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" (Jeremiah 29:11) What does it mean when Jesus says,"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) We don't have to look far to see the theives. They come in the form of insane people, cancerous cells, drunk drivers, tsunami waves. But what about having life, and abundantly? What about hope and a future? The discrepancy between what we read in the Bible, the promises that we count on, and what we see in this broken world can seem confusing and devastating. It can seem like there is no possible bridge for the chasm between the suffering we see each day and that glorious future that we hope for. 

But there is a way. And there is a hope. And a future, and an abundant, full life. We get glimpses of it here. What was that rush on your wedding day? How did you feel the first time you saw a newborn child? What did your heart do when your kid first said,"Mama," and then never stopped? How joyful were you when you saw the face of your adopted, beloved child? How high did you want to jump when your child graduated from college, or got that first job, or had the first grandchild? What excitement did you feel when you saw the well-water flowing fresh for the first time in that dry and barren land? How many tears did you cry when you heard of the women and children who were freed from slavery and oppression? 

Ann Voskamp wrote a blog post for today that speaks some wonderful words of peace in a time of great sorrow. Among the most comforting of the words that she shared were the Scripture verses (and rightly so). These verses from Hebrews 2 are as a trumpet resounding: "Since the children have flesh and blood, he too shared in their humanity so that by his death he might break the power of him who holds the power of death—that is, the devil—and free those who all their lives were held in slavery by their fear of death." (vv. 14-15) She also reminds us that from beginning to end, the Scriptures promise the eventual and everlasting demise of the Serpent. In Genesis 3, God tells the snake that the offspring of the woman will crush his head and he (the Serpent) will strike his heel. And then Ann Voskamp takes us to Revelation, where John tells of his vision: 

A great sign appeared in heaven: a woman clothed with the sun, with the moon under her feet and a crown of twelve stars on her head. She was pregnant and cried out in pain as she was about to give birth. Then another sign appeared in heaven: an enormous red dragon with seven heads and ten horns and seven crowns on its heads. Its tail swept a third of the stars out of the sky and flung them to the earth. The dragon stood in front of the woman who was about to give birth, so that it might devour her child the moment he was born. She gave birth to a son, a male child, who “will rule all the nations with an iron scepter.” And her child was snatched up to God and to his throne.

When I read this word-picture I was amazed. I stared wide-eyed at what was written there in black and white..."her child was snatched up to God and to his throne." I thought of what Pastor Ron had said, that we are "believers caught up in God's covenant," and I couldn't help but smile through tears. God catches us up, we are snatched up just like his own Son, and nothing can ever snatch away what God has taken to himself. 

John ends his Gospel with these words,"But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Messiah, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life in his name." John saw the Messiah, he shared his life, his death, and his resurrection with us, and he did that so that we might "have life in his name."

Life...not slavery!

Life...not fear!

Life...not death!

Sometimes it seems like we live in a very dark place. But one day? One day there will be only light! We will be face to face with God! And oh, the light!

"There will be no more night. They will not need the light of a lamp or the light of the sun, for the Lord God will give them light. And they will reign for ever and ever." Revelation 22:5

Tend to Joy

I am feeling much the same way I did several years ago when a little girl named Cora died. I didn't know her, but had read her story, been touched by it, and then was shocked to find out that she had passed away from the cancer that her parents had only recently been told about. For days, I cried off and on, and I remember thinking it was so strange because I didn't even know this family. 

I think part of what made such a big impact on me is that she and Eliana were close in age. Eliana was a little older, but in Cora's baby pictures, I could see Eliana's face. It made me so sad to think of the pain that this other family was experiencing. And I am a worrier, so it made me scared to think,"Everything could change in an instant." I worried about every sniffle and anything that seemed unusual.

Again, I find myself thinking constantly about others in their pain, the families of those who were robbed of their lives yesterday. I can't listen to Christmas music without feeling a wild, deep, aching longing for Christ to come back quickly and restore this world, free it from this bondage to brokenness. The lyrics of "O Come, O Come, Immanuel" and "Away in a Manger" and "God Rest Ye Merry Gentelmen" and even of that new-found (for me) happiest of songs "Born is the King" all press down on my heart. It hurts to tend to joy.

Like everyone else, I feel devastated for those who have been directly affected by what happened. Those whose loved ones died, those who were there, those who showed up to help...while I don't know any of them personally, and they are far away from me, at the same time they are right across the street. We live right across the way from an elementary school. Every weekday, I see groups of kids, parents with their children passing by on their way to school. They are the same age as my children are. They are the same age as the kids in Connecticut, whose lives will never be the same.

And now it feels like we're laid out on a battleground. And it might be easy to feel like we are under seige and losing. Courage may wane. Fatigue and fear infiltrate. Despair slumps our weary shoulders.

But in our despair is where we truly meet, and are even able to encounter, the God who rescues, the LORD who delivers. The Good News is only good news to those who are surrounded by horrible news. At the center of all of the circumstances that terrorize us, break our hearts, bring us to our knees, is the thing that is the root of the bad, and which binds all of the bad together: sin. It leads us, fearfully, reverently, longingly, hopefully to the Savior - his healing hands, his dusty feet, his broken body, his pierced brow, his empty tomb, his glorious ascension, and his imminent return. We might walk hesitantly, or we might run boldly and desperately, but either way, it's his arms we seek, his face we long for, his love we are endlessly hoping for. 

This Advent season has taken on a profoundly different significance. While our hearts are broken, and not just because of what happened in a small town in Connecticut, but for all of the atrocities and horrors that children and adults alike face all over the world, our hearts are not completely destroyed. The unseen eternal which Paul speaks of is always before us, and we are promised this: it is our future, and the unseen will become seen. We will walk the new streets, we will be in the new land, we will live with God.

"‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
Revelation 21:4

We wait. And we hope. And we tend to joy.

Even though it may hurt for a while, or longer, we tend to joy. If we don't, we wither and die, though we are breathing still. We must breathe, and pray, and not be silent.

...weeping may stay for the night,
    but rejoicing comes in the morning.
You turned my wailing into dancing;
    you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.
    Lord my God, I will praise you forever. 
Psalm 30:5b,11,12 

"Is Everything Sad Going to Come Untrue?" -Samwise Gamgee

Everything fades into the distance. Only one thing stays, comes sharply into focus. 

Mike and I have been trying to decide what kind of new cell phone to get. There are so many choices! The one we'd love to have is unavailable right now. 

IT DOESN'T MATTER.

I don't have a dinner plan. I thought we could eat leftover meatloaf, but there isn't enough for everyone (or even two). I don't really have a back-up plan.

IT DOESN'T MATTER.

Christian has a friend coming over after school today, and my house is a wreck. 

IT DOESN'T MATTER.

What does matter? What is important today? Right now? This instant?

Take hold of them and love them. Play that game. Finish that schoolwork. Make those cookies. 

That one thing, it comes into focus, sharply, painfully, and in an instant we know, just like we've always known but sometimes forget, we are waiting for the One who will make all things new.

We wait for the One who will make all things new, so that one day we can say with everlasting joy,"Is everything sad going to come untrue?"

Pray for the families of the children lost, the families of the others whose lives were taken, those who were witnesses, those who came to aid, and for the family of the young man who is responsible.
Lord, hear our prayers.

The Worried and the Word

I have several thoughts, a great deal of dishes, and some worries.

I took the kids to the park today to throw bread to the ducks. After the bread was gone, we walked to the playground and they ran around a bit. Eliana wanted to jump from one part of the equipment to a hanging bar, across a space that is just wide enough to make it dangerous and fun. She did it once. She missed the second time. She landed full on her front, arms out Superman-style. She literally bit the dust. There were wood chips in her teeth.

She was upset, but wouldn't really tell me anything. She doesn't ever want to talk about if she's hurting. At. All. But by the time we were home, she seemed fine. I gave her a shower and she was playing like everything was A OK. 

And I think it probably is. But when I tucked her in, she wanted me to stay. I thought maybe she was sore, so I sat with her for a few minutes. Then after I left, she called out for me at least four separate times. I went up and came down, went up, came down...finally, Christian said,"She's crying up there."

I went up again, thinking that maybe she was hurting somehow (Her ribs? Her chest? Her head? I didn't know.), but she just said (finally, after hiding her tears under the covers for minutes),"I want to snuggle with you."

I wasn't going to do it, but...I thought I should in the end. I lay down with her and she cuddled up and went on to sleep. And really, she seemed just fine. She kept telling me again and again,"I love you!" in a silly voice that sounded more like,"I-yub-you!" 

Since I'm a worrier, it's hard for me not to think that something is wrong. She was acting weird, even if she wasn't acting hurt. I've prayed that everything is fine, and I know that I trust God. But being a mommy is hard. There are what-ifs. 

So...I'm just trying not to be anxious. Not to be afraid. That is the refrain throughout the Word, and from the Word himself,"Do not be afraid..."

*edited: Eliana is fine. I had a restless night, but she is, indeed, A OK.

That "Inexpressible and Glorious Joy"

Years ago, one of Mike's grandmas gave our family The Advent Book. It is a lovely, sizable, Christmas lift-the-flap board book for all ages. Each page of the book is an illustrated scene with a door. The doors are all unique, and each opens to depict a scene from the story of Jesus' birth. There are 25 doors, and the story goes from the angel's announcement to Mary that she will be the mother of Jesus through Simeon's beautiful prophetic song in the temple when Mary and Joseph have taken Jesus to be presented according to the Mosaic laws.

The pictures (as I understand it) were drawn by one of the put-togetherers of the book, Jack Stockman. He and his wife, Kathy, created a homemade book for their own family a long time ago, and then had a dream of publishing one like it, with doors that opened to pictures representing the Christmas story. Jack composed the pictures, aided by friends and neighbors who sat as models. They are all amazing pictures, but there is one in particular that takes my breath away every time I see it.

When Mary goes to Elizabeth, and they see one another for the first time as expectant mothers...

there is nothing but JOY. RADIANT JOY! BEAUTIFUL, UNINHIBITED JOY! 

And this portrait brings tears to my eyes no matter how many times I encounter it. The love and happiness in their faces are palpable. I can almost hear them laughing as understanding, bewilderment, and anticipation bring them ALL! THIS! JOY! Even the unborn John knows and is leaping, jumping full of joy!

The mystery of God becoming a man, the marvel of the Creator taking on flesh, the miracle of Immanuel...how can these mercies lead us to other than joy? May you know that joy today!