Yesterday we enjoyed springtime and sunny weather! Talitha said to her sisters, "Lets go outside and smell ALL the flowers...we can't leave a single one unsmelled!" It's been many years since we've experienced spring and many years longer since I've had spring in the south. It truly is glorious.
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As we're settling in for a longer haul with the global pandemic, my thoughts this morning turned to all sorts of projects I want to get done around the house. I have furniture that I've been wanting to give a chalk paint facelift to, an attic that needs sorting through, a few more closets to clean out, and a room full of stuff ready for a yard-sale to organize and price.
This morning, as I was giving the kids my list of opportunities to not be bored, I said, "Let's be sure to not waste this time we've been given!" And then I started to mull over the fact that there are many ways we as believers could waste this pandemic. We could waste it by not remembering our frailty. When people around us are dying, it is good to remember that "as for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more." (Psalm 103). We are weak and helpless in ourselves. Covid-19 is just another reminder. But a student of death is also student of life. A good student will ask "how can I live today in light of the fact that I will soon die?" We could waste it by not remembering Christ. When we see our frailty, the precious thought should quickly follow that "He knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust." (Psalm 103) We don't need to despair that we are dust, for Christ knows that we are. He knows that we are powerless to save ourselves, so he saves us himself. He knows that from dust we were created and to dust we will return, so he died, was laid in a dust-filled tomb, and then conquered the dust by rising again. It is that death-defying power that holds our hearts during this time of global uncertainty and he will hold us to the end. We could waste it by living in fear. In all our dust-iness, we can remember how valuable we are. "Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows." (Matthew 10) Oh, how the Lord loves us so. We are precious and valuable in his eyes. In love, he will not leave us. If there is one thing that I have learned this past year, it is that when God takes away, he replaces whatever he takes with himself, and it is such a good trade. We really really don't need to fear. Even if we experience loss through Covid-19, God will fill us with himself and provide for everything we need. We could waste it by not resting and being refreshed. We live such a hurried life. It consumes us at times. Our culture is chronically fatigued and often content to run on empty. Social distancing is giving us a time to be refreshed. More time in prayer, more time to cherish our families, more time to read, more time to do some of those projects that will help clear space in our homes and in our heads. Time for creativity, extra naps, longer meals. Let's embrace it and be thankful for it. We could waste it by not praying for our missionaries. Yes, my heart is heavy for dear friends around the world. Many of them have made a hard choice to stay put despite borders closing. In Uganda, as of last night, no more planes are going in or out for people. Those that made the choice to stay there, are there for the long haul. As tension increases, so could riots. If riots increase, the government might possibly shut down social media (as they often do during elections). While they may not be in immediate danger now, this kind of isolation adds a whole new level of stress to the work they are doing. We need to pray for their hearts and their protection as they continue in their work. And maybe an email or care package might be in order! ;-) We could waste it by not remembering those who are struggling more than we are. My heart is heavy for other parts of the world. Where we lived in Uganda, social distancing is nearly impossible. For most people, daily trips to the market are a must since they don't have refridgeration. Soap to wash hands costs money that many don't have. They share latrines and boreholes with all the neighbors. In the slums, the houses are built almost on top of each other. If Covid-19 hits, it's going to hit hard. On top of that, they are at the tail end of hunger season. The rains have returned, but they are waiting for their crops to grow so they can have food again. But they are also experiencing plagues of locusts in some areas. Seriously, Walmart being out of toilet paper is of very little significance in light of their life. We need to be remembering them and praying for them. How else are you not wasting this time? What has God been teaching you through Covid-19? During this time of social distancing, I would love to hear from you in the comments! Ellizabeth Elliot once said, "In acceptance lieth peace." I've been pondering that quote lately. Aren't we all on a constant quest for more peace? Trauma brings continual temptations to freeze-up, run away or fight. The quest for peace can feel nearly impossible at times. Because really, how does one begin to accept the unacceptable? The sin, the shame, the pain: no one of God's daughters should ever have to face that. But here I am. Whether I like it or not, the unacceptable came. As I've pondered what it means to accept, I've come across three truths. I need to accept the dark providence that God has brought. The unacceptable is a whole lot easier to accept when I acknowledge that it too, is from the hand of God. God's sovereignty runs deep. Everything is completely under his control...the good, the bad, and the ugly. If I say that this trial is not from God, then God has no power to stop it and if God has no power to stop it, then God ceases to be God. If I'm on a quest for peace, that would be a complete dead end. So, I trust the loving hand of my father God and accept what he has brought. I may not ever understand it on this side of eternity, but God's sovereignty, even in dark providences, remains a soft pillow to lay my weary head on. I need to accept the instability that continues. Trauma brings so much instability. Life becomes completely unpredictable. That instability can last a very long time. Instability piled on pain can feel like constant tectonic tremors that leave you expecting another big earthquake. And you constantly have in the back of your head the question of whether or not you'd actually survive the next big one. I'm a gal that really likes my day in and day out routine. But that is clearly not the kind of life God has called me to for this season. I continue to press in to the instability, accept it and try to roll with it, knowing I'm gripped by God's grace. I need to accept the time to rest in the particularly close shelter of the Most High. There were times in Uganda where I would take a boda (motorcycle taxi) to town, only to get caught out in a true African down pour. When it rains in Uganda, everyone immediately takes shelter and waits it out. The Ugandans are usually all chill under the shelters, laughing and talking and enjoying themselves, no thought given to the time. But inevitably my American self would be pacing on the inside: ready for the rain to stop so that I could go about and do what I wanted to get done. And as the rain slowed to a drizzle, I may or may not have, on more than one occassion, tried to convince a boda driver to get going: "oh Sebo, the rain is only small, small. Please, can we go?" (and I was usually responded to with, "oh mama, the rain is still falling" or a request for a higher fare. haha!) I was thankful for the shelter, but I was ready to get on with life. And so it is now. I am in a particularly close shelter. When a Christian goes through a deep trial, God pulls her in more than normal. As Christians, we always abide in God's shelter. But during such raging storms? The shelter becomes particular and full. This is God's grace to suffering believers. And I am so thankful to be in God's close shelter because I know I'm safe, cared for, and loved, but at the same time part of me still fights back: I don't want to be in this shelter because it means the rain is still falling and the war is still raging and hurt still comes. Acceptance means being content with the storms raging and letting God keep me in his close shelter for as long he wants. I'm learning to accept this season and the grace that it brings. So there it is. Three things to accept when the unacceptable comes: dark providences, instability and the continuing need to stay in God's close shelter. Rather than freezing, fleeing or fighting while experiencing trauma, we can focus on what we can accept. Then even the painful stories can become more fully a part of the one Great Story and we can find peace to rest in. These were Benaiah's ducklings in Uganda who reminded us, while we watched them grow, to rest deeply in God's care. Despite all the threats to their fluffy little lives from dogs, cats, snakes and rats, they waddled around without a care in the world.
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Behold, I am doing a new thing;
now it springs forth, do you not perceive it? I will make a way in the wilderness and rivers in the desert. Isaiah 43:19 Archives
August 2020
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