"You Look Good"

“for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” 1 Samuel 16:7b

I’ve heard this account of the call of King David countless times. In fact, it is one of my favorite Bible stories. (My kids and confirmation students would interrupt me now and say ‘You say that about all the stories!”).  Nonetheless, it is a very familiar story, so I was surprised, while sitting in worship this morning when this part of the story took my brain off in another direction.

“for the Lord does not see as mortals see; they look on the outward appearance…”  What immediately came to mind was the phrase “You look good”.  One of the most baffling and surprising things about being ill for a long period of time has been that I have most often heard how good I look.  Now let me start by saying I appreciate the kindness of the words, and that folks are trying to be encouraging. What baffles me is that I hear this from people who have known me for quite a while, and would tell me (have told me J !)  when I haven’t looked so good.  The other baffling thing about this is that I hear that I look good most on days when I really don’t feel well.

Truth: with chronic illnesses looks can be deceiving.

I think back now to all the times I would visit someone in the hospital, or nursing home or a home-bound person, and I would say “There’s good color in your cheeks” or “you look good today”.  Yep. I have said it too…and I’ve meant it.  To be honest, I think it was part of my desire to be uplifting and encouraging to the person. To find some good in a situation that in all truth, really confounded me. I was trying to judge how they were doing off my understanding of ‘normal’.  They really DID ‘look’ good to me, but I didn’t always ask how they were really feeling.

It can be difficult, even embarrassing for me to have to explain sometimes that I’m really not feeling well, particularly on the days I’m trying to push through and do something and I look pretty good.  I am aware that lightheadedness and fatigue and pain are not necessarily things that ‘show’ easily. I’m also aware that I’m a person that puts on a good face to not worry others.  The days I really look like I feel, I’m at home, with unwashed hair, still in my pajamas at noon when my husband comes home for lunch, and I move slowly and painfully.  Most folks don’t see me on the days I look like I feel…

How about you?  Does any of this sound familiar?  Perhaps you’ve experienced similar things.  I’d love to hear your comments.

This morning, dressed for worship and moving very slowly, the words “the Lord looks on the heart” were comforting.  I know that in the context of the passage about King David it meant something different, and yet it speaks volumes to where I am today.  As I sit in worship while everyone else stands, because I can’t stand and sing without becoming very lightheaded;  as I sit or move slowly because I hurt, even though I ‘look’ like a healthy 44 year old woman, I find comfort that God knows what I am experiencing that day, even if everyone else around me has a difficult time seeing.  God knows that it’s not out of disrespect that I sit, but it has been a sacrifice to even get to worship.  God knows the days I’m frustrated, hurting, and exhausted, and loves me dearly even on those days. 

God knows and sees the challenges you face every day. God knows and sees the ways you are using your faith to keep moving forward. God knows and sees that, what may look like small steps to the rest of the world, may really be a huge effort for you and me.

God looks on the heart. God sees with eyes of love when God’s dear children are struggling, and understands what we face. 

Dear Lord, no matter how I ‘look’ today, please help me to remember that you see what I’m really facing, and you look upon my heart. Please comfort those who hurt and struggle today, and surround them with understanding and care. Amen.

Tempering Part II

"...we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next." Romans 5:4 The Message


Continuing with yesterday's tempered steel thoughts, here is a video from Garth Brooks that speaks beautifully to this process of allowing oneself to be changed and to live life out of that 'tempered' state.
It touches and encourages my heart every time I see it, and hope it is meaningful for you today~
Andrea

Tempering

^“3And not only that, but we^* also boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, ⁴and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, ⁵and hope does not disappoint us, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us. “ Romans 5:3-5 NRSV

These verses were part of the second reading for this past Sunday (Romans 5:1-11 if you want to read the whole thing). They lay between two sets of verses I’ve focused upon frequently in teaching and preaching, but I have to admit, I’ve usually skimmed over these particular verses to ‘get’ to the others.

Not so this time through. In reading this lesson, these verses jumped out.  I decided to try what I’ve done before in sermon prep, and check out another translation.  Here’s how Eugene Peterson translated it in the paraphrase Bible The Message:

^“There's more to come: We continue to shout our praise even when we're hemmed in with troubles, because we know how troubles can develop passionate patience in us, and how that patience in turn forges the tempered steel of virtue, keeping us alert for whatever God will do next. In alert expectancy such as this, we're never left feeling shortchanged. Quite the contrary—we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit!” Romans 5:3-5  The Message

What jumps out for you in these passages? 

The phrase that really ‘popped’ for me today was “tempered steel”. Now, I’ve heard of it before, but really can’t explain it, so I did some research.   It was hard to find a definition that didn’t take me into the depths of metallurgy, but here is a basic definition- heating steel for a length of time at high temperatures so that it actually changes the structure of the steel.  Being tempered involves a lot of heat but it is important and valuable for the steel to go through that process.  If the blacksmith removes the steel before it is finished, it will be weaker than it was before.  In tempering the steel is made stronger, more pliable, more resilient, and more valuable.

Folks, I believe the encouragement in this passage is that God utilizes our struggles to shape us into people who are stronger, more resilient, and transformed to the core.   This passage encourages us to embrace the ‘tempering’ of our lives in whatever form those struggles take and to move into and through it, for God is at work. 

If these words would have come from anyone other than St. Paul, I would have been skeptical, however, St. Paul is one who knew suffering and tempering throughout his life and ministry. What he is saying comes first-hand from his experience.  It is an encouragement for us to await with expectancy what God will do through us next.

It is funny how God works…I Googled the term “tempered steel” this morning, and along with definitions I also came across a group that supports wounded veterans.  The word on their web page is “The stories behind the scars, uniting wounded warriors with the public through dialog.”  The visit to their web page was inspiration and moving and I’ve attached the link here: http://www.temperedsteelinc.org/  as well as at the bottom of this blog.  This link was a delightful find which actually fits magnificently with what the passage was talking about.

These people exemplify a patient expectancy of what God may do next through them.

Today I encourage us all to look to those who model what it is to go through the tempering of suffering.  I ask you to look at your own life—how have past struggles shaped you?  How might this present struggle be reforming you into someone who is stronger, more resilient, and of great value to those you touch?

Dear Lord, it is a challenge for us to see struggles as a tempering process. Help us to see how you have worked in our lives and in others to strengthen, and reshape during times of suffering. Shape us by your loving hand.  Amen.

Loss

"Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord." Philippians 4:7-8

 

Two days ago I posted this scripture verse along with Casting Crowns’ song “To Know You”.  It was a word of hope, yet I struggled with posting it.  It is a favorite song of mine, and has spoken to me powerfully in the midst of loss…and yet, if we don’t also speak about the reality of loss, the hope sounds hollow.  I’ve learned over the years that if I don’t address the truth of loss in my life, or in the lives of others, any word of hope that is spoken sounds like a quick fix, or a brushing away of the pain.

 

So, today I am compelled to turn the focus to the reality of loss in long-term illness, both mental and physical.  (Note, I am intentional to keep mentioning mental chronic illness as well, because while little seems to be addressed to chronic physical illnesses, even less attention goes to the struggle of long term mental illnesses.  Both are life-changing, and both can be powerful faith growing times.)

Where do we even start with this conversation-- when the symptoms first start being noticed, or at diagnosis?  In reflecting on my own experience and the experience of those dear to me, it seems that we’d be more correct to talk about ‘losses’. It is not just one event, but a series of losses that come at different times.  I’d like to name some of the losses that may be experienced:

• Loss of physical abilities- (may be ongoing and cumulative- or sudden and complete)
• Loss of mental abilities- (may be ongoing and cumulative- or sudden)
• Loss of concept of self- the loss of how we think of ourselves (ie- strong, powerful, sharp, capable, able to handle anything, healthy…)
• Loss of relationship- the loss of how relationships used to be with others (often there is a change, from subtle to distinct); and the loss of certain people in our lives ( there are some who no longer contact us when we become ill- perhaps out of not knowing what to do)
• Loss of a sense of place in our family or society- “Our family is known for… and now I can’t do that particular thing.” 
• Loss of income- long term illnesses can be debilitating to the point of forcing people to resign, go on disability or retire  in the prime of their lives. This loss has physical effects, ie- financial struggles; as well as mental and spiritual effects-  What is my purpose?  What am I good for? 
• Loss of peace of mind-  every ache and pain that used to be ignored now may be noticed, and along with it may come the wondering if something else is being lost.  It can feel like waiting for the other shoe to drop.
• Loss of innocence about our health- many of us know much more about the things that can go wrong in the human body than we’ve ever known or ever wanted to know before.  While learning about the miraculous workings of the body can be inspiring, I’ve also seen that when facing difficulties, people who know more can also envision more catastrophic endings.  There’s a loss of the sense that ‘Everything’s going to be alright’, primarily because everything already isn’t alright.

These are just a few, and I touched on each of these major losses just a bit. Each of these can be very painful, and combined together, they can be hard to explain and hard to navigate.  Also, the timing of each of these is not set.  It’s not necessarily true that once you face the symptoms you start to encounter these, or once you’re diagnosed you are hit by all of these.  They often take place over time, and in my life, I realize the losses often not at the time they are happening, but later.  It can take a while for things to sink in.

Back in November and December when I first started to work on managing the difficult symptoms of the relapse, I was so busy focusing on just getting through the next day and making sense of it that I wasn’t aware of the loss.  Only recently, as things have settled down have these very powerful feelings of loss surfaced

What I am trying to say is that there is no set pattern for this, nor is there any ‘typical’ loss.  You may have or may be facing any or all of these or a combination that I haven’t even named.  Loss is normal. Painful, but normal.  There is nothing wrong with you if you are experiencing any of these things…it is part of this territory.  Nor is there anything wrong with you if, months after diagnosis or months down the road from here you find yourself feeling the loss.  We each will experience the timing in different ways.

I would encourage you, no matter what you are feeling or how it is hitting, to choose good, mature, sensitive people to support you.  Ask them to walk with you in this time, and consider strongly getting in touch with a counselor or therapist. Just as you are careful to choose which doctors to help you through this, I’d encourage you to be careful in choosing which people to support you.  Friends, family, pastors, counselors can all be helpful, but not all family, friends, pastors or counselors will know how to help.  Listen to your heart and your gut, and be selective of who you share your loss with.

Precious and important things have shifted in your life. It is real and it is often extremely painful. Having people who will also treat these losses with the precious care that is needed can be very healing. 

The cross also reminds us that we have a God who understands significant loss, and chose to be with us right in the middle of the darkest times.  The Lord will not leave us even as loss surrounds you and me.  The cross is not an easy answer, nor is it something to give hollow hope.  Instead, the cross reminds us that God knows first-hand the depths of loss, and yet also brings transformation and real hope even to the hardest losses.

May you know the love of God, and the support and care of others in the middle of your losses.

Peace,

Andrea

Dear loving God, sometimes the losses we face can hit us like a freight train. Other times they can sneak up on us and accumulate until they feel like a burden we can no longer carry.  Help us this day as we face many losses. Encourage us, hold us and guide us through this dark and difficult territory.  Amen.

Who am I to do this?

“Then the Lord said, ‘I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings,…the cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt.’ But Moses said to God, ‘Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?’ He said, ‘I will be with you;”  Exodus 3: 7, 9-12b NRSV

It has been a month since this blog was started, and that has caused me to reflect. Although you need to know that many things cause me to reflect:  anniversaries, births, a beautiful sunrise, as well as stumbling on the sidewalk, air…  you get the picture!  Reflection, not unusual for me J…

As I look back upon the last month, I am struck by two things:  how helpful it has been for me to have the opportunity to work on daily devotions and put words to some of the struggles and gifts that I’ve found on the path of Chronic illness, and also the overwhelming sense of ‘who am I to be writing this?’.  Moses’ words at the burning bush  came to mind this morning as I ponder all this—not because I feel some great call to free a people, nor because I think of myself as a Moses-type figure, but because the honesty of his question resonates in my heart.

Moses had been raised a prince of Egypt, and after having to flee Egypt for murder in protection of an Israelite, he found himself tending sheep in Midian. Not anything he probably ever had seen as part of his future.  God calls him to take action. Moses’ response was some thing like “are you sure?  I can’t speak very well. Certainly someone else can do this better. Who am I to do this?”

Perhaps you’ve heard yourself sounding like Moses.  Maybe an opportunity, or a situation has called upon you to take action, and you were more un-certain of yourself than anything. You may be even facing something in your life like this now, on a large or small scale.

Over the past several days as I’ve wrestled with exhaustion and physical pain and all the fun that comes with that set of ‘twins’,  I’ve been asking Moses’ question in relationship with this blog.  Who am I to be writing devotions for folks with Chronic illness?  I’m not a medical professional, I’m not an expert in chronic illnesses, heck… I’m not even feeling well most of the time right now.

The amazing answer God gave Moses, and God gives us all is “I will be with you.”  God worked through Moses, warts and all.  And the word to you and to me is that God can utilize our frailties and our failings in ways we can never picture in order to give hope, encouragement and freedom to others. 

The only requirements it seems, for Moses, and for us are to listen and to trust.  Moses ‘turned aside to see this thing (burning bush)’ and then listened.  Then he trusted God’s direction.

In the midst of our daily lives, and for those with long term illnesses – our daily struggles, God continues to call us to listen and trust.  Listen to where and how God wants to work through us, and trust that, while we cannot fathom how it may work, God can—and will—touch the lives of others in ways that we couldn’t touch if we were in some other circumstance.

No, I’m not a doctor, and I don’t even play one on TV.  I’m a middle-aged woman wrestling with the uncertainties and difficulties of health problems while being a wife and mother, and pastor on disability.  I have also had a history of trying to listen to and trust God.  Qualified to write a blog? Not hardly.  In the right place and time, and willing to try?  Yes.

I would love to explore with you how God may be working in your life to utilize who and what you are, in order to help others. I'd love to hear your story...

Andrea

Casting Crowns- To Know You

"Yet whatever gains I had, these I have come to regard as loss because of Christ. More than that, I regard everything as loss because of the surpassing value of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord." Philippians 4:7-8

A word for those days when feel we may have nothing left, including energy....may this song be devotion and prayer today~

The gift that keeps on giving

 ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they will receive mercy. ‘ Matthew 5:7

We were first introduced to the Mastiff Rescue program several years ago, following the very difficult loss of a dear companion, Strider—a two year old, 175lb male English Mastiff.  Our hearts were broken and we were hesitant to even get another dog for a while.  It happened that in our investigating Mastiff breeders in the area, we met one of the state-wide coordinators for Great Lakes Mastiff Rescue.  We met some of her foster pups, and my heart was broken open by the need and the strength of these beautiful critters.  I remember telling her that we’d be open to a rescue dog, but simply not a puppy.  It seemed a safe thing to say, as rescue puppies are pretty rare.

A month later, I received a phone call from Indiana.  It was the Indiana state coordinator for Mastiff rescue, and we’d been recommended as a family for a very special dog.  A mother Mastiff had come in the day before delivering 13 puppies. She was emaciated, and fortunate that she had been found by the rescue people, as they believed she had been part of a backyard puppy-mill, and had endured too many litters at a young age.  Her growth was stunted, and her body had given all it could for the puppies.  She was unable to produce milk and was in great health difficulties. The volunteers hand-fed the 13 puppies themselves (ie- fed some very big, very fast growing pups around the clock!!).  Of course, I said, we’d be happy to meet the mother and consider adopting her,  but no—they had a home for her…they needed a good home for the puppies.  Would we come and see and adopt one?

Because of difficulties with Strider from an early age, I felt quite worthless as a puppy raiser, and yet the need was great.  Placing 13 puppies into homes that were familiar with Mastiffs, and would keep and care for them well…that was quite a need.  We took the risk and adopted our lovely Peachy girl.  Three months later, we received word that the Ohio state-wide person had puppies from a litter from one of her champion dogs, but the pup was a runt that almost died. She was tiny, loving, and no one knew just how she would grow up.  And Miss Peanut became part of our home.  Now three years later, these gorgeous 160 lb. girls grace our home and fill our lives with laughter, love and joy (and snoring and drool, if you’re familiar with the breed ;-) 

In speaking with someone about rescue dogs, I remembered the line from the movie “Pretty Woman”  where Edward asks, “What happens after the prince rescues her?” and Vivian replies “She rescues him right back!”   We ‘officially’ rescued the girls, but Peaches and Peanut rescued us right back, as they helped restore our confidence in caring for such amazing animals. 

One of the lies that Chronic Illness can make us try to believe is the lie that we are worthless. Because we are no longer able to do what we did before, society and often times our own minds, can convince us that we have nothing to give. 

That is hogwash. As I’ve been reflecting for the past month here, although we are affected by many different conditions, and we have differing abilities and different experiences, every one of us has value and has something important and vital to give.  When we are able to focus outside of ourselves and show mercy to another person, or to another creature—whether that be a plant or an animal—something special happens for us as well.  We are strengthened, and we receive something right back.  As Jesus said much more simply, blessed are the merciful for they will receive mercy.

There are people and animals and living things of all kinds that need what we have to offer, whether that is a kind word, or a warm house and proper pet food, or a listening ear and encouragement…you have gifts, and they are gifts that the world needs you to share. Right now.  Don’t believe the lies of illness—who you are is valuable, and in fact, may be more sensitive and merciful because of the challenges you’ve faced.

What has been tugging on your heart?  Is there a person who has been coming to your mind that you are compelled to call?  Is there a cause that you’ve been meaning to support?  Is there something you’ve seen that has stirred mercy in you?  As you are able today, I encourage us all to reach out in mercy for someone or something else. What we will receive in return will be great. 

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go buy dog food.  We go through a bit of it now, you see, and there are two beautiful, fuzzy faces depending on me. J

Dear Lord, just as we depend upon others to help us, allow us to see that there are other people and creatures that need help and mercy. Help open our hearts so that we can love and support others, and in return receive the joy of having others depend upon us.  Help us receive mercy, even as we share it with the world.  Amen.

A time to celebrate

“For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven: ² a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted; ³ a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up; ⁴ a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance”  Ecclesiastes 3:1-4  NRSV

I’ve always been sentimental.  Holiday celebrations, anniversaries, and birthday parties have always been important to me.  Over the past 3 years they have become even more meaningful.

This weekend we have had the privilege of having birthday celebrations for our 10 year old son, and it started me reflecting on celebrations and long term illness.  Nowadays, any kind of celebration takes more energy than it used to…and it is absolutely worth it!  In the past three years I haven’t always been able to celebrate important holidays and events as I’d like to. Just since November, I’ve missed traveling to see family in other parts of the state and out of state.  I spent Christmas in the hospital this year, and got out just in time to celebrate our daughter’s 14^th birthday…from the couch.

These months have helped developed a new and precious understanding and gratitude that we have something to celebrate.  As difficult as days may be, I have a deeper and abiding awareness that the loved ones in my life may just as easily not be here to celebrate with.  Oddly enough, the more physically painful my life has become, the more grateful I am to still be alive.

So, today, while I’m exhausted from a weekend of what would have been an easy series of event in my pre-illness days, and know that I’m going to have costs that I’ll have to pay later this week…I am also sitting here with a full heart and complete awe that I’ve gotten to participate in 10 amazing years of the life of a very special boy.  I am amazed that we are surrounded by loving and wonderful people in our life and for at least today, we get to laugh and dance.

Dear Lord, thank you for the events in our life that we get to celebrate. Thank you for the people in our lives who are precious to us. Thank you for the days we get to experience.  Amen.

Stand By Me | Playing For Change | Song Around the World

"And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.’" Matthew 28:20b

Sorry to be so late posting today. Good, yet very busy day with son's 10th birthday party.
So, here's a musical post~  a favorite of mine.  Enjoy!

Even though I walk...

The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not want;
 he makes me lie down in green pastures.
He leads me beside still waters;
 he restores my soul.
He leads me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.
Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I fear no evil;
for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff,
they comfort me.
 Thou preparest a table before me
in the presence of my enemies;
thou anointest my head with oil,
my cup overflows.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me
all the days of my life;
and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD
for ever.

Psalm 23- Revised Standard Version

   ^{1 -3} God, my shepherd! I don't need a thing.
   You have bedded me down in lush meadows,
      you find me quiet pools to drink from.
   True to your word,
      you let me catch my breath
      and send me in the right direction.

   ⁴ Even when the way goes through
      Death Valley,
   I'm not afraid
      when you walk at my side.
   Your trusty shepherd's crook
      makes me feel secure.

   ⁵ You serve me a six-course dinner
      right in front of my enemies.
   You revive my drooping head;
      my cup brims with blessing.

   ⁶ Your beauty and love chase after me
      every day of my life.
   I'm back home in the house of God
      for the rest of my life.

Psalm 23-  The Message

Today I posted one of the most well-known and beloved Psalms in two different translations.  I’m not asking you to compare them, or critique them, or even asking which is your favorite.  I posted two because one is my favorite, and the other has also spoken to me in very dear ways, and I thought these might be helpful for someone here.

As you read these passages, what speaks to you loudly today?  What brings you comfort today? 

What did you need to hear from God on this day that you hear in the Psalm? 

Long-term illness is a time when we need to and get to hear things differently.  The world around us may be the same, but our perspective has changed.

Fortunately, although  our perspective has changed, God is not fickle, and God’s message of love, comfort, support and eternal life has not changed. 

I hope today that whether you are beside still waters, or in the valley of the shadow of death, you may know that you are not alone…God walks by your side…today and every day.

Shepherding God, you know us by name and value us as your own. Today speak to our hearts so we may hear you, and give us your comfort and strength.  Amen.

"I'm Here"

 “My brothers and sisters,^* whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy, because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing.” 

 James 1:2-4 NRSV

I was diagnosed with POTS while serving at a trio of wonderful congregations. Before the illness hit, I encountered a woman at the congregation who had significant health issues.  Every Sunday morning I would ask her how she was, and the answer always came with a smile “I’m here”.  We’d chuckle, and I interpreted that as a variation on the answer “fine”. 

During the time when I was initially trying to find answers for my lightheadedness, fatigue and multiple other puzzling symptoms, the same woman showed me great compassion and understanding. I learned more about her health, and the struggle it was for her on Sunday mornings (or any mornings) to get up and move due to issues with significant pain.  I started to understand that when she said, “I’m here”  it was a clue to anyone that wanted to hear it, that it was a rough morning for her.  Soon that became the code language between us, and I started to say “I’m here” right back to her when I was having a rough morning. 

This also attuned my ears more closely to the answers of some other people facing challenges—the dear man in his mid-90’s who’d say he was “fair to middlin’”  on some days; the man fighting cancer who would say he was fine, until I’d look deep in his eyes and say “ok, it’s me…how are you?” and he’d give a deeper answer.  I learned that my own struggles were tuning my heart and ears to hear others more carefully. The answers I would have accepted before, the ‘fines’ and ‘I’m here’s” now had nuances and tones that I hadn’t heard before, and they opened me up to wonderful conversations I’d missed before.

But even more than code language, “I’m here” became a statement of faith for this woman.  Despite physical difficulties that would have stopped many other folks, despite daily challenges that were difficult and discouraging, she chose to still come to church. She chose to be there, and through that “simple” action, she witnessed to the God who was with her through all things.  “I’m here” was a declaration, and on many days, her courage and faith…witnessed by being there…helped me keep going and keep facing the tests of my health.

On days that she was unable to be there, I didn’t think she was any less courageous…but began to understand that if something had kept her from church I should really check on her—because it would have to be pretty difficult to stop her from coming. 

In quiet, profound, incredible ways, these dear people (and many others since then) have taught me the importance and depth of “I’m here.”    To the newly widowed woman who still brought her children to worship, even though it was a place where her husband and family had been active…thank you for your witness.  To the young man just released from prison who wasn’t sure church would accept him, but for whom a worn out hand-written prayer had sustained him every day of his incarceration…thank you for your witness.  To the man who is facing difficult job struggles every single day that would have worn most people down, and yet when asked says “we have a warm house and nourishing food on the table today… we’re fine”…thank you for your witness.  And to the women and men who show up, and the people who support and care for them, despite long and often exhausting challenges every day…thank you. 

And to you, no matter what you are facing today, thank you for showing up and being ‘here’.  I do not know your story, but I know that it takes courage, determination and moxie to show up  for life when you are facing chronic illness.  And I am grateful that you stop by this blog to be ‘here’ too.  It makes a difference, and it encourages me too.  You see, “I’m here” too.  J

Dear God, You are Immanuel—God with us. We thank you for being HERE.  Help us this day to witness to your faithfulness, and give us the strength we need to do what you need us to do.  Even if that is encouraging others by just showing up.   Amen.

Acquainted with suffering

“He was despised and rejected by others;
   a man of suffering^* and acquainted with infirmity;
and as one from whom others hide their faces^*
   he was despised, and we held him of no account.” Isaiah 53:3

It is a normal human reaction to want to turn away from suffering—our own and the suffering of others.  Seeing suffering stirs up feelings about our own frailties, our own vulnerabilities…our own mortality.  And when the nature of another’s suffering is unfamiliar to us, or we do not know how to ‘fix’ it, it is very difficult to not turn away.

How many of us with long term mental or physical health challenges have encountered friends, family members, colleagues, or health personnel who have tried to give quick solutions, easy answers, or even dismissed symptoms as being “in our heads” because what we were facing was extremely difficult to face and answers were far from forthcoming?

Even as I write this, I must reflect that, as a pastor, I too remember times when another’s pain was too difficult and unfamiliar, and it was out of my power to make things better, and so I said something stupid, or made a quick exit.  Not because I necessarily wanted to, but because I didn’t know what else to do.  Often, I wasn’t even conscious of my turning away until later.

There are days on the journey of chronic illness where suffering is intense and can be ongoing. Things out of our control and understanding can knock us flat, figuratively and literally.  It is not an easy thing for me to name and admit.  I would much rather be that ‘brave’ person that talks about encouraging things and always looks on the bright side. But, folks, that’s not always our experience of life, is it? This journey can be very hard.  And certainly, suffering is not the monopoly of the chronically ill. Suffering is a part of life.  We just may have the opportunity to experience it more frequently in certain ways.

So where do we turn when the suffering is intense, the infirmity debilitating, and the pain nearly immobilizing?  Where do we turn when the world’s quick fixes, easy answers and simple solutions dissipate like dust in the wind in the face of our everyday reality?

Where do we turn when life just hurts? 

We turn to the one who is acquainted with infirmity.  We get to turn to the one who is familiar with suffering.  These phrases were used to describe the ‘suffering servant’ in Isaiah’s writings.  These were some words used to describe what God’s Messiah would be like, and they have become words to describe Jesus.  Where do we turn?  I invite us to turn to the cross.

It is on the cross we see that God’s answer to intense suffering, debilitating infirmity and immobilizing pain is not a pat answer or easy response, but a deep and very real understanding of the suffering of humanity.  It is in the cross that Jesus reveals to us a God that doesn’t run from suffering but runs to the suffering ones.  It is in the cross that we see the God who doesn’t abandon the hurting, but goes into the very depths of suffering.  It is the God who brings light into the darkest places, and brings new hope and transformation out of the bleakest situations. 

The cross is not an easy answer, or a quick fix.  It is the sign of the God who is in relationship with us no matter what—the God who is acquainted with suffering when others may turn away—the God who knows our infirmities and meets us in the middle of them with a transforming love that will never let us go. 

If you are hurting today, please know you are not alone. There are days where that's where I am too. There are others who come here who know what it is to face pain and suffering in many ways. I invite you to share with me and with others here what you are experiencing so we may be able to reach out and support you. 

But most of all, please know that Jesus understands what you are facing.  Turn to him. You will get much more than a quick answer or a temporary solution…you will get the presence of the One who knows what you are facing… you will get Jesus.

O God, hear the cries, the tears, the agony of your people. It isn’t pretty and most folks want and need to turn away from suffering, but we know that you don’t, and you won’t.  Where there are those who are hurting, be present, Lord. Bring comfort, peace and hope, and work through us to share compassion, comfort and understanding with those who suffer. Thank you for never abandoning the hurting and suffering—even when it is us.  Amen.

Just Keep Swimming

“Once Jesus was asked by the Pharisees when the kingdom of God was coming, and he answered, ‘The kingdom of God is not coming with things that can be observed; ²¹nor will they say, “Look, here it is!” or “There it is!” For, in fact, the kingdom of God is among^* you.’” Luke 17:20-21  NRSV

This morning as I woke to a cold, grey spring morning, and my bones and muscles ached, the words of an unusual philosopher came to mind. This philosopher has short term memory loss, has the gift of speaking whale (although not everyone believes her), and has an abiding trust in the ocean that surrounds her.  Her words:

 “Just keep swimming, swimming, swimming…”

The philosopher?  Dory, the Blue Tang Fish from the Disney Movie “Finding Nemo”.

Dory’s words, while making me laugh, also remind me of a deeper truth-  that we are supported and buoyed by a Grace that we often forget.  Mystics often describe God as the Ocean, the One whose current leads us and carries us even when we are not aware. 

Jesus’ words speak of the in-breaking of God’s kingdom right in our midst, and the parables point to God’s work among us. 

Like a fish in the water, we are not always aware of that which continues to make our hearts beat, or our brain synapses connect, or the air which oxygenates our blood. People surviving and thriving with chronic conditions, I think, have the gift of being very aware of systems that are extremely complex: of brain chemicals that are sensitive to changes, or psyches that process detailed memories and events, or immune systems that carry out systemic battle plans that would challenge any general, or autonomic nervous system reactions that happen for most people automatically, in the blink of an eye.  We have learned about these miraculous parts of the human body because, for us, things don’t work flawlessly. 

And yet, this morning, Jesus’ words, (and Dory’s words—as long as they are not in a whale dialect )  remind me that there is a great deal of love and support that still carries me in its current today. The Creator and Giver of life continues to sustain and buoy me. This is incredible in itself, but God is up to even more—working God's creative and redeeming work in and among us as well.  Even on this grey, achy day, this Ocean of Grace is working out a purpose and promise in and around my life… in other words – the kingdom of God is among us.

I may not “swim” easily today, but I am still alive and held in this Ocean of Grace.  Today I get to keep swimming…and that is a fabulous gift.

Incredible and fathomless God, like a fish in the ocean, I am most often forgetful of your continuing, loving presence and work that surrounds me.  Today, help me keep ‘swimming’ in your care. Amen.

Ask

Day 23- Ask

“Ask and it will be given to you; search and you will find, knock and the door will be opened to you.”  Matthew 7:7 NRSV

Yesterday I had the joy and privilege of finally returning for a farewell reception at the congregation I most recently left.  Back in November when the POTS relapse hit me full-force, I was at church one day, and unable to come back the next.  For weeks I tried to rest and recover enough to return, but could not, and eventually had to resign. It was a very significant ministry for me to be part of, and not the ending I planned or wanted.  Yesterday was an important day.

Yesterday’s trip might not have happened. You see, the church was an hour away, and right now, I am still unable to drive long distances.  I become too tired and too light-headed to drive safely for a long time. Anything over ½ an hour and I need to have someone else take me.  The trip might not have been... well...because I’m stubborn.  

I’m not used to asking for help.  All my life I’ve been strong, determined, independent.  I’ve been the “helper”. If someone needed something, “sure, I can do it”.   If someone needed a ride, or a meal or some kind of support and help, I’d find a way to make it happen.  I like helping, and being the one to support others. 

In the past, when I’d hear Jesus words “Ask…search…knock…”  I would usually think of them in terms of entire congregations as we moved together through transitions.  Knock… and the way will be opened, seek… God’s presence and guidance and you will find it,  ask…and God will show you who the next pastor is that God is calling to serve you.  These were all very powerful  (and true!) understandings of this passage.

Since facing long-term illness, Jesus’ words have taken on a much more personal meaning for me.  I’ve also noticed, because of my stubbornness, the answer has been usually there and offered before I have been able to ask.  Such was the case with attending the farewell this weekend. Last week, a very dear person from the congregation, who has been calling and touching base with me regularly since I left, offered to drive. What they were offering meant four hours on the road for them, in order for me to be able to attend the farewell. 

It was an extravagantly generous offer of this person’s time.  In the past I wouldn’t have considered it. Now, I was presented with an answer even before I shared the need, likely because I would have never asked for such generous help.  I accepted, and the trip up and back was a gift, not only in travel, but in having the luxury of talking with this person one-on-one for two hours. I am deeply grateful that they offered.  I am thoroughly glad I asked for the help. I am even grateful of being put into the position where I had no choice but to ask.  It allowed me to see the grace and love that surrounds us every day.

We may not like having to ask for help. Many of us may be used to being the helper, and not want to be the ‘helpee’.  But in order to do some necessary and important things in living our lives, we likely need help.  Ask.

Are there people in your life who have offered to help you with something?  Ask them to help when you need it. Is there someone who has already seen a need?  Accept and ask for their help—it will bless you both.  Is there a problem that you cannot see the solution to?  Pray and ask—you’ll be amazed at the help that is offered.

Is there someone you can call and support, or encourage, even as you are unable to do some things?  Listen and see how God is still calling you to help others, right now. 

You see, it’s not about always being the helper or the recipient of help, it’s about helping each other as we are able to. The amazing thing is that God is able to weave together the needs with the help in to a beautiful pattern that we only get a glimpse of most days.  Today, I invite us all to ponder how we might continue to be part of  that pattern.  Will we ask?  Will we help?  Will we accept the help that has already been offered?    May we get a peek at that tapestry of God's love and generosity that is all around us.

Lord, you move in the hearts of people in so many generous and loving ways.  Crack open my stubbornness today to receive the generosity of another, even as you move in my heart to share generously of my gifts.  Amen.

You Raise Me Up By Selah

Have you not known? Have you not heard?
The Lord is the everlasting God,
   the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
   his understanding is unsearchable.
²⁹ He gives power to the faint,
   and strengthens the powerless.
³⁰ Even youths will faint and be weary,
   and the young will fall exhausted;
³¹ but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength,
   they shall mount up with wings like eagles,
they shall run and not be weary,
   they shall walk and not faint.   Isaiah 40:28-31

Today's post is a musical one for this Sunday.  Enjoy~

Kept

“The Lord is your keeper. The Lord is the shade at your right hand.  The Lord will keep you from all evil; he will keep your life.  He will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and forevermore.”  Psalm 121: 5, 7-8  NRSV

When I wake up in the morning, I need to lay in bed for a few minutes and gather my thoughts.  I can’t blame this on illness…I’ve always been a slow riser.  I think it comes from having once been a night owl.  Then, being married to a morning person, and having at least one child that’s a morning person…I had to acclimate quickly.  But that doesn’t make me a morning person J   (Actually, right now, I’m not a night owl either…I’m more of a 1:30-2 in the afternooon person!)

In those first few minutes of laying quietly in bed while slowly waking…everything seems possible at that time.  As I start to re-enter the waking world, I think about what I want to do with this day, what I need to do with this day…what others need me to do on this day—and it all seems possible.  My life seems to be in my own hands at that moment. 

And then I move…

I often know immediately what kind of day I’m going to have as soon as I start to move and get out of bed.  The lightheadedness and aching will either be a companion that day, or it will not.  The fatigue and exhaustion will either make themselves known immediately… or I will be aware of their absence.  Either way, as soon as I begin to move, I am aware that my life is not fully in my control. 

Most days for the past half-dozen months, as soon as I move,  the possibilities I’d laid out in my mind moments before suddenly have to be adapted.  When will I be able to take care of that errand?  At what point do I have to start getting ready so I can make that appointment? What will I have to cut from my day so I can have the energy for the few things I want and need to do?  And even some days:  What  do I need to cancel and reschedule, because I am not able to leave the house today?

In that moment between laying there quietly thinking and getting up to function, I become acutely aware that I am not always in charge of my “going outs” and my “coming ins”.  In the past I wouldn’t have even thought twice about this. Oh, I still would have grumbled about morning on the way to the shower—I am a recovering night owl, you know J-- but I really believed that all that I had planned in that day lay in my hands.

One of the rather surprising gifts in my experience with long term illness has become the daily reminders that my life is not in my hands.  Now, clearly, I have responsibility and choices for how I face each day—but ultimately, the gift of each day is not mine to give…only receive.

And so is the gift of a life that is not fully in my control.  The words of the Psalmist are a huge relief to me on the days when, in those first moments of movement I realize my plans for the day are going to be different than I envisioned.  “The Lord will keep your life. He will keep your going out and your coming in from this time on and evermore.”  

Whether I am aware of it or not, my life rests in the gentle, loving hands of the One who created, redeemed and who still sustains me. Whether I can move easily, or am in pain; whether I am clear-headed or foggy and lightheaded; whether I am rested or fatigued, God keeps my life. 

Knowing that…can help even a night owl get out of bed in the morning.

Keeper of my life, thank you for your gentle care, even when I’m not aware of it. This day, remind me that you are ever-present and will hold me in your care, no matter what the day brings. Amen.

Mark Bezos: A life lesson from a volunteer firefighter | Video on TED.com

^“But whoever catches a glimpse of the revealed counsel of God—the free life!—even out of the corner of his eye, and sticks with it, is no distracted scatterbrain but a man or woman of action. That person will find delight and affirmation in the action.” James 1:25   The Message

This morning I am having difficulty with getting my hands to move as I want them to...and so typing is a real challenge.  I'm going to borrow a fabulous video post from a good friend, Padre Dave, from the PTSD and Ministry blog. (If you haven't checked out this blog, the link is at the bottom of the Chronic Hope page or click on http://www.ptsdministry.blogspot.com/)

Hope you enjoy the wisdom and words of Mark Bezos. Please click on the sentence about Mark Bezos that follows.

Mark Bezos: A life lesson from a volunteer firefighter Video on TED.com

Do what you are able to do…today. You have what you need to make a difference for someone else today. Share a kind and encouraging word with a phone call or note. Say thank you to someone you’ve been meaning to thank. Make a donation to help someone in crisis around the world, or in your neighborhood. Volunteer at a school to read a story to some pre-schoolers. Support something you believe in.

Who you are and what you do makes a difference… even if that means simply sharing the fire-fighter’s story with someone else and encouraging them.  Don’t wait.

Dear Lord, no matter what limits or challenges we face today, help us to put our faith in action, even in small ways.  We know you are able to utillize small actions to make a great difference for others.  Please accept what we do TODAY, and bless it for the good of others. Amen.