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Serendipity

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Serendipity. It’s a word that sounds mystical, and I think most people could more easily tell you how it “feels” than describe exactly what it means. It is the title of the 2001 movie where two people meet, fall in love, and then lose track of each other, only to be brought back together by a series of serendipitous events.  The movie defines serendipity as “a fortunate accident.” We think of the accidental discovery of penicillin or Christopher Columbus’ unexpected finding of the “New World” when he was trying to reach India. Webster calls it: 

“The phenomenon of finding valuable things not sought for.”

I don’t believe in fate or luck, but Webster’s definition of serendipity reminds me of God’s amazing ability to give us something of great value when we’re not even looking for it.

Serendipity in History
While sitting in on a world history class today, I learned that Christopher Columbus gave the Holy Spirit credit for inspiring his voyage to the other side of the world. Divine intervention is in God’s wheelhouse, and when He supernaturally crosses paths and aligns moments, it’s never by mistake:

–An Egyptian princess opens a floating  basket made of reeds to reveal the face of a child who will one day lead his own people out of slavery.

–Another Hebrew boy is sold into slavery by cruel brothers and, through a series of anomalous events, is positioned to save these same brothers from starvation in a time of famine.

–A young orphan rises through the ranks of the most beautiful women in the land to become the Jewish queen of the Persian king–just in time to save her people from annihilation.

Moses. Joseph. Esther. Three times, God providentially orchestrates events to preserve a nation, and the stories go on.

Serendipity in Threes
It’s only Tuesday, but my week has already been caught up in a serendipitous storm.

1 …
On Sunday, I taught children’s church, which I have never done in the six months we’ve been here. I didn’t have much time to prepare, so I picked something I knew:  a lesson we’d used on a mission trip in Honduras this past summer.

I tailored the lesson for a smaller and younger group of kids, but basically, we ended up reading and acting out the story of Peter walking on water from Matthew 14. The lights were turned off to represent nighttime, and our elementary students were rowing along in an imaginary boat, when suddenly the boat was hit with great waves (a blue scarf waved up and down by preschoolers). “Peter” sees what the disciples first think is a ghost, then recognizes Jesus and asks to be called out onto the water. “Jesus” (played by an 8-year-old girl, since there were no boys) bids Peter to come.

We all know that the story ends with Peter sinking until Jesus saves him, wondering at how little faith has been shown. I had started the morning with a question and ended it with the same:

“Where is the best place to be if you are in the middle of a huge sea?”

Most people, child or adult, would give the expected answer:  “in a boat.” Out of the mouth of a third-grader, though, came the radical reply:  “with Jesus.”

2 …
The little girl in children’s church was right, and I thought of her wise words later the same day as I was reading Tedd Dekker’s fictional but biblically-based “A.D. 30”–a telling of Jesus’ ministry through the eyes of a Bedouin “desert queen.” When Dekker’s book began to recount the water-walking episode, I found myself in the middle of the storm once again–this time seeing it through the eyes of someone who might’ve been there with Peter and Jesus.

3 …
A couple of days later, I opened Facebook to find a close friend’s post about being “storm proof,” despite the crushing waves that life can bring. She linked her to post to a recording of “Oceans (Where Feet may Fail),” by Hillsong United.

Three encounters with the same “storm,” told in three different ways within the span of three days. Serendipitous, don’t you think? I might’ve overlooked the significance of it all had the phone not rung a few short minutes later to present my life with its own mini-storm.

My Mini Storm
I call it a mini storm, because the Holy Spirit made the thunder and lightning smaller in my eyes, directing my focus elsewhere, so that I could experience “the phenomenon of finding valuable things not sought for”: 

–I was looking for an easy children’s church message, and I found some of the truest words that can be spoken, uttered out of the mouth of a child.

–I was reading fiction just for fun and found myself experiencing truth vicariously through the characters in a story.

–I was perusing Facebook to pass the time and found comfort in the words of a friend and a familiar song–just before my own storm arrived.

The nature of my storm doesn’t matter. The things I “accidently” found in it do matter:

1) The best place to be when you are in the middle of a great sea, in the midst of a storm, is not in a boat of safety, conformity, the status quo, or trust in men. The best place to be is with Jesus.

2) The litmus test of faith is not in knowing about Jesus or even in believing in Him. “Even the demons believe this, and they tremble in terror (James 2:19).” Jesus spoke of Peter’s doubt, even though Peter knew and followed Him, even though the disciple got out of the boat.

But Faith doesn’t falter when it trusts in Jesus to the degree that the storm poses no threat.

Of trusting in “the boat,” Dekker writes:

 “Perhaps it is better to understand faith by your fears … We put our trust in wood and pitch and flesh and blood and wind and water, and so the storm has dominion over us. Don’t you see? We must let this world go and see no threat. This is what it means to believe in Yeshua! … In the eyes of children who trust their Father, there is no threat. No grievance against the storm (Dekker, A.D. 30 ).”

The storm is real, but the threat is not, because Jesus can be trusted. In fixing our eyes on Him, we find grace to let go of our fear of the storm. We also find the grace to surrender our grievence against anyone or anything.

This is why scripture says, “You will keep in perfect peace all who trust in you, all whose thoughts are fixed on you! (Isaiah 26:3)”

3) The only way to be “storm-proof” is to  turn our eyes to the Master of the wind and waves–listening as He cries out, “Peace! Be still!”

We must get to know Jesus’ sovereignty, becoming familiar with His faithfulness, until He holds His rightful place in our estimation.

Jesus is supreme over everything, the One in whose presence there can be no fear.

This is the God kind of serendipity. How much more of it would I “accidentally” find if Jesus were the focus of all of my searching? (Matthew 6:33)

Spirit lead me where my trust is without borders.
Let me walk upon the waters wherever You would call me.
Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander,
and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior.

I will call upon Your name,
and keep my eyes above the waves.
When oceans rise,
My soul will rest in Your embrace,
for I am yours and You are mine.
–Oceans (Where Feet May Fail, Hillsong United)

 

The Eternal Why

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Do you remember the first day of 2nd grade? Neither do I. In fact, I may remember one of the roughly 75,000 minutes I spent as a second grader. If I recall correctly, I was reading a Baby-Sitters Club book and had to ask my teacher to read a diary entry written in cursive at the beginning of one of the chapters.

Arbitrary Questions and Random Thoughts
The 2nd grade question has been floating around in my head for a few months, ever since Robert and I attended a conference and one of the speakers brought it up. We didn’t finish the conference. Robert’s dad passed away, and during that time I wrote a post that was meant to have two parts:  A Time to Die and a Time to be Born. I never wrote part II, because it has taken three months for everything that was flying around in my head to settle in my heart. Until that question collided with some others, it was all a cerebral Ping-Pong match. I’m still not sure I can put it to paper in with any coherence, but I’m ready to try.

Why?
It’s the mother of all questions:  the bane of the preschool-toting parents who hear it from morning ’til night, the food of philosophers, and the hammer that shatters the naïve world-view of a sheltered adolescent leaving the nest. Why?

  • Why do bad things happen to good people?
  • Why do the young die too early?
  • Why do the old die alone?

There are many variations, but the why never changes. When it was my turn to ask why, I never made it to the colossal question. Oh, I asked it in pieces and parts, beating around the bush–always leery of stepping over an invisible line that would leave me doubting the God I’ve loved since I gave my heart to Him as a little girl. I’ve tired of the never-ending doctors appointments and wondered as the milestones pass–first birthday, 2nd, now almost 3rd–when the miracle will come. But, I stayed clear of the big one, the question the world assumed I would ask:  “Why was my 2-year-old daughter born with a disorder that doctors expect to take her life sooner than later?”

Why not ask Why?
The first instinct of many is to blame God, but honestly, I didn’t. I still don’t. I know that God is the author of good, and that evil is not a created thing, but rather the absence of His goodness. Evil is the stuff that fills the chasm that disobedience made. The plainest revelation of the character of God came to us in the person of Jesus Christ, and Jesus only did good. He “went about doing good and healing all who were oppressed by the devil, for God was with Him (Acts 10:38).” 

This verse couldn’t spell it out more clearly:  there are the good guys and there are the bad guys. In one corner of the ring we find Jesus–sent by the Father and empowered by the Holy Spirit; in the other we find Satan–the first to rebel against God’s good plan, striking the blow that opened the chasm.

As certain as I am that genetic disorders are not the work of God, I also know that He is fully able to speak one word and send them to oblivion. God could’ve thwarted Satan’s plan before Olivia was born, leaving us blissfully unaware of the attack on her life. He could have healed her the first time I prayed, or the tenth, or the fiftieth–shortening our struggle and easing our pain. Therein is the inevitable question:  not “Why did God do this?” but “Why hasn’t He stopped it?” I never asked the question–for some reasons that I can identify and others that I can’t:

  • I love God. Asking that question seemed equivalent to a slap in the face of a benevolent Father.
  • Posing a question like this is as dangerous as being 30 feet in the air in a blinding snowstorm and stepping onto a 4-inch beam. You better know which way is forward.
  • Philosophical questions got pushed to the side by a steady stream of practical, how-do-I-move-forward questions.
  • My faith was just a thread. It was only holding because God kept graciously reinforcing it with reminders of His faithfulness. I wasn’t going to go after the thread with a pair of scissors.

Why ask Why Now?
Almost two years into this journey, I can ask the question, because I have an answer. The question no longer holds any power over me. Struggle gave way to need, then dependence softened the soil of my heart so that it would accept the seeds faithfully planted by my Father. One day, I woke up to field of flowers where thorns once grew wild.

Before Olivia’s diagnosis, I frequently found myself as the soil full of thorns in Matthew 13’s parable of the sower. (Sometimes, I still do.) I heard the Word of God in abundance, and even allowed it to grow roots. Too often, though, I let superficial worries and cares (about money, relationships, the future) to choke the Word before it could flower. I’m thankful for the grace of God that helped me to lean on God when trouble came, so that He could till the stone-filled dirt into good ground.

Inside the picture of a blooming field is one part of the answer to the why question. At times, God allows trouble so that we will look to Him and find the grace to grow in the light of His countenance. And His countenance is full of peace, hope, and joy.

Here is the honest truth:  I’ve experienced more peace, hope, and joy in the two hardest years of my life than in the 25 easier ones before. It’s an anomaly, but its real.

Another part of the answer to the why question is found in the glory that God has gotten and will get, the people who have seen God’s goodness on Olivia, and those who will be impacted by it in the future.

I don’t know the full answer to why and probably couldn’t articulate it if I did. But my heart is at peace. Here’s why:

“He has planted eternity in the human heart.”–Ecclesiastes 3:11

This from the wisest and wealthiest king who ever lived–the man who also said:

“I devoted myself to search for understanding and to explore by wisdom everything being done under heaven … I observed everything going on under the sun, and really, it is all meaningless–like chasing the wind.”–Ecclesiastes 1:13-14

King Solomon had the world at his fingertips, literally. Yet, he found it all meaningless. And it is meaningless in the same way that a line of dialogue means nothing without the context of the play. Apart from the greater story, our lives are but a breath. We are born with nothing, and live a life full of stuff that we can’t take with us when we die.

The answers to big questions and to the meaning behind our lives can only be found in their connection to the big story–God’s story. While it is not for us to understand everything (Ecclesiastes 3:11 continues with ” … but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end.”), we still understand that there is something bigger than ourselves–a purpose higher than our own comfort.

He has set eternity in our hearts.
So, the first day of 2nd grade is forgotten amidst the 30,000 days we may have on earth. The problems we face fade in the light of eternity. And our God–who is Alpha and Omega, Beginning and the End, really does send genetic disorders into oblivion.

Click here to read Olivia’s Story.

I want to write part III of this series:  how the days of our lives count for something, even though they are but a second against eternity. (If we’re lucky, it won’t take me another three months.) But for now, here’s a song. This is my first attempt at playing piano, recording and mixing on my own, so please don’t judge too harshly. :) The lyrics are below.

Oasis
by Holly Chapman

Jesus, Jesus
You will remain, You’re still the same in every season.
Jesus, Jesus
Your Word endures, it’s ever sure throughout the ages.

Are you Alpha or Omega?
You are both, and You are present with me now
this moment and forever.
Liberator, are You Master?
You are both, and I’m the slave been set free
this life, I will surrender.

You have set eternity in my heart.
You have made everything so beautiful
… in it’s time.

Like the sky,
Your love goes on beyond the storm.
Endless horizon,
You never change, I can’t contain
the wonder of Your power,
nor explain it

Like a flood,
Your goodness rolls through desert land.
The water rises,
and from the sand blooms mercy’s plan
the wonder of Your grace,
it’s an oasis.

That Ugly D Word and the Story that Saved Me

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shutterstock_118570552_20150102143738665 Aspirations for the future have propelled me forward in life for as long as I can remember. What would I become? Who would I marry? What kind of home would I create? At 27, I am beyond many of life’s most exciting decisions. I have chosen a career, a husband, and the name of our first daughter. I planned our wedding and decorated our first house.

Still, the dreams keep me awake at night. Where will I travel? Whose lives will intersect with mine? What impact can we make? What legacy can be built?

I’m not talking about the flimsy, lottery-winning, 15-ninutes of fame dreams nor the frenzied, mind-spinning thoughts that anxiously steal away sleep for fear that the coming years might fall short of hope’s painted picture.

I’m speaking of the “what if” tales, spun when my heart is the only audience. I am cast as the brave adventurer, daring to reach farther and jump higher–caught up in that bashful place where wild and meaningful impossibilities are for a moment entertained.

I lost sight of “what if” once, a few months after giving birth to my beautiful baby girl.

The wave of love that overwhelms a first-time mother cannot be understood until the instant that it arrives, horns trumpeting and floodgates thrown open by the cry of new life.

What comes later for some moms–whether in hours, days, or months–is no easier to explain than that first exhilarating moment.

Female horomones, in a frenetic and lawless onslought, seem to force passage through unruly loops, dips and cork-screw turns. The roller-coaster’s path wanders, independent from what is sensible. It brings tears when none are warranted, and desolate thoughts clash with one of life’s most joyous seasons.

I’m not sure if the baby blues stole my hope or if I invited them to ravage my life by caving in to the formidable combination of chemical imbalance and Satan’s well-timed lies.

Maybe I should have sought companionship instead of isolation and let go of my stubborn pride long enough to ask for help, medical or otherwise. (Eventually, I did both, and each brought some relief.) Certainly, I should’ve looked upward instead of inward.

Pungent in my memory now is the sight of me at the bottom of my barrel. One afternoon, in an irrational effort to climb out of the vortex I was spinning in, I pushed every button that I knew would bring my husband to the edge.

His sanity prompted him to cool off with a walk, but I could not stand the thought of being alone with myself, even for a minute, and my words stopped him cold in the doorway.

“If you leave, I’ll take a knife and cut myself.”

The deranged statement represents one of the lowest points of my life–a pit I never thought I could fall into. From a higher vantage point, I can see this:

Although many factors contributed to the depression that gripped me for a time, the crux of the problem was that I had forgotten my role in the story.

Not just any fairytale or beloved fable, but THE story–the one from which all worthy plots are derived.

This story predates Pride and Prejudice and surpasses Braveheart in glory. It is the reason our hearts thrill at Darcy’s passionate words to Elizabeth and race with anxiety over William Wallace’s fate. These celebrated movies–portrayals of love and courage that triumph over every obstacle–point to a greater drama, giving reason to believe that there is more to life than mindlessly wading through an endless stream of monotonous daily tasks.

I had stumbled over uncertainty and landed in the unfamiliar world of new motherhood. Gone were academic goals and career productivity–comfortable landmarks that marked the first 25 years of my life. I simply didn’t know what to do with myself. I lost my identity. No, I forgot about the story.

Once upon a time God created,
and unfathomable beauty appeared on the heels of His every word.
At the climax of creation, He introduced men and women,
you and me, into a grand narrative.
As with every story that holds any meaning, there is an antagonist
–one who would have it end in tragedy.
 Powerless to touch God himself, Satan aimed for the Father’s heart.
Deceiving, he stole the devotion of God’s children,
planting distrust in the goodness of the One who made them.
The price of free will, their betrayal ripped a gaping hole into God’s perfect covering.
Evil raged through–led by the father of lies,
and we were assaulted by sickness, peril, and every vile thing.
Creation was taught to serve itself,
to dedicate all to the pursuit of knowledge, wealth–anything but the truth.
But when it seemed all hope was lost, a Hero stepped onto the scene.
The Father’s heart was revealed when He sent His only Son
to wage war against the darkness.
Leaving heaven behind, Jesus came to exchange His life for mine.
 Then He rose, alive, and the Hero won.
Jesus won life for me, and not just life
but purpose.
Purpose in knowing that I have been chosen and pursued,
fought for and rescued.
Noble purpose in action–taking up arms for a cause that matters.
The battles that I fight are not senseless.
I stand against the enemy of all that is good, and I am not alone.
There is a happily ever after,
and unimaginable adventure is found around every bend.

There is a story. It is real, and I have a signigicant role. My identity is not found in an age, a title, or a season of life. I have value, because Jesus considered me worth storming the gates of hell to ransom. What greater purpose could I have than to follow in the path He forged, laying down my own life for a child, a husband, and as many others as God will send to me? The calling transcends time and place.

This world I live in is both seen and unseen. So, when the temporal half’s veil blinds me to the truth that what I can’t see matters more–my Father never fails to whisper the story again. His anecdotes are vibrant, filled with exploits, romance, and “what ifs.” Sewn into the larger tale by a thread of redemption, the pages of my life are made noteworthy by virtue of the Author who holds the pen.

Long ago the lord said to Israel: “I have loved you, my people, with an everlasting love. With unfailing love I have drawn you to myself.– Jeremiah 31:3 (NLT)

I will walk among you; I will be your God, and you will be my people.– Leviticus 26:12 (NLT)

For he has rescued us from the kingdom of darkness and transferred us into the Kingdom of his dear Son, who purchased our freedom and forgave our sins.–  Colossians 1:13-14 (NLT)

Therefore, we are ambassadors for Christ, God making his appeal through us. We implore you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.– 2 Corinthians 5:20 (ESV)

This song is one of my favorites, because God used it to remind me of His story, my part in it, and why it all matters. Thank you Crystal Mott for playing on the recording.

Rhapsody
by Holly Chapman

Where is the passage, purpose to find?
Significance tucked away, hidden in time past
Meaning behind closed doors, the key locked away
Search for the missing, uncover the way

Surfacing, memories
It was You

You were the whisper that spoke in the quiet place,
stirring the air with your prose
Voice of the narrative, weaving a story so infinite
never been told
You were the melody echoing over me,
writing your song on my heart
Composer of beautiful dissonance,
complex in all that You are

Path to the future, purpose revealed
Relevance found again, a reason to feel now
Destiny’s door swings wide, portal of healing
Seeking no longer, the Way has appeared

Breathtaking, rhapsody
It is You

You are the whisper that speaks in the quiet place,
stirring the air with your prose
Voice of the narrative, weaving a story so infinite
never been told
You are the melody echoing over me,
writing your song on my heart
Composer of beautiful dissonance,
complex in all that You are

It was You all along, You were there
patiently waiting
Leading me into your arms, You were there
I couldn’t see it, but
It was You all along, You were there
patiently waiting
Leading me into your arms, You were there
And I see it now

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Warrior’s Song

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Warrior’s Song

 

 

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I am sitting in a hospital room with Olivia for the third time since she was born. She caught a virus–again–and couldn’t keep enough fluid in her little 20 pound body to avoid getting dehydrated. So, they inserted an IV, admitted her, and here we are.

As I listen to the constant cries of the patient next door, I am thankful that Olivia is sleeping peacefully and that for now, the needle-sticking, poking and prodding are over. I am also glad that this situation is not a life-threatening one, and that the doctor says we may get to go home tomorrow.

Next to all of my grateful thoughts, the less noble ones seem out of place. Still, they are there–fighting for a place in my mind and a grip on my life:

“Why do we have to be here when we should be enjoying Christmas time with family?”

“This is the way its going to be. Every time she catches a bug it will mean another hospital stay.”

Worst are the memories of the time we spent in this same hospital two months ago, when Robert’s dad passed away. I remember sitting in a room in another wing, hurting for my husband as we watched his father die, all the while fighting thoughts sent straight from hell that said, “This will be Olivia someday, and you’ll be watching her die.”

I’ve learned that having faith doesn’t make the fight disappear, it just means that I am battling from a position of victory and am guaranteed peace while the punches are being thrown.

If Jesus can win the battle of my mind in one hospital room, I know He can do it here too.

The day before we brought Olivia to the emergency room, I downloaded a book called, “Piercing the Darkness,” by Frank Peretti. I had read “This Present Darkness” but didn’t realize there was a sequel until my aunt and uncle told me about it. The books are fictional but draw from biblical truth. The stories create a picture of the spiritual warfare–the literal fight between God and Satan, angels and demons–that goes on behind the scenes of our lives.

There was nothing new to me in the books, nothing I didn’t already believe in, but reading it from the vantage point of a hospital room made me realize the very real role that human beings play in the outcome of the struggles that life brings.

If the burden of fighting was on my shoulders, I would have lost long ago. Jesus won enduring victory when He submitted to the cross and then rose from the dead. But God has created us in His own image. Like Him, we are able to feel the pain of parting with someone we love, and like Him we experience the joy of being reunited. He has given us the ability and freedom to choose for ourselves which way we will go.

As the human race, we chose disobedience and caused the onslaught of evil and pain that continues to rack the earth today. Jesus provided the only solution, and only by embracing that solution can we experience the triumph that He purchased.

I’ve never liked sitting on the sidelines, and so I appreciate the fact that my God-given role is not to watch the war from afar but to engage in hand-to-hand combat:

“A final word:  Be strong in the Lord and in His mighty power. Put on all of God’s armor so that you will be able to stand firm against all strategies of the devil. For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places. Therefore, put on every piece of God’s armor so you will be able to resist the enemy in the time of evil. Then after the battle you will be standing firm.”–Ephesians 6:10-13 (NLT)

Not only have I been called to fight, I have nothing to fear. It is easy to fight fearless when your General has never lost. In fact, He has already won, and there is no end to the resources at the disposal of His soldiers. It is as if we have been sent on a conquest that has been decided; the path to triumph is paved, and we’ve only to obey.

The Bible recognizes God as the “devouring fire” that goes before us and the “rear guard,” sheltering us from behind; “the battle is the Lord’s” and we are “more than conquerors” in Him (Duet. 9:3, Is. 52:12, I Sam.17:47, Rom 8:37).

Knowing where my help comes from, I choose to fight. Like the characters in the book I read this week, my battle doesn’t look like clashing swords or flying bullets. Instead, it looks like obedience. My most valuable weapon is prayer, and I will conquer in this way:

“And they have defeated him by the blood of the Lamb and by their testimony. And they did not love their lives so much that they were afraid to die.”–Revelation 12:11 (NLT)

That verse could easily read “they did not love their lives so much that they were afraid for their loved ones to die.” I am not afraid when I remember that if Olivia were to be absent from my arms she would be present with Jesus. Still, I will fight for her life and for His Kingdom, because of the Word that fills my heart with faith:

“Yet I am confident I will see the LORD’S goodness while I am here in the land of living. Wait patiently for the LORD. Be brave and courageous. Yes, wait patiently for the LORD.”–Psalms 27:13-14 (NLT) 

That verse is one of many that God has spoken to my heart over the months since Olivia’s diagnosis. In so many ways, He has reassured me again and again that He has a plan and will bring it to completion.

Even though I realize that many of the things I have to say below will not be easily received by some people, Christian or not, I am choosing to share them here because they are part of our testimony. When viewed in light of the goodness of God, the strength of the work of the cross, and the power of the name of Jesus, I can’t help but be filled with faith by the countless encouraging words and pictures of hope that God has delivered to me through others, through His Word, or straight to my heart. This is part of the “reason for the hope that I have” (I Peter 3:15):

  • When I was pregnant with Olivia, way before any thought of a genetic disorder plagued my mind, a pastor prophesied this about the future of the baby growing in my womb:  “There will be warfare, but don’t be afraid. God has taken care of it … She will be a prophet to the nations.”
  • God gave me a scripture (Jeremiah 17:7-8) while I was pregnant with Olivia, and a friend put it up on a wall in her old room:

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  • Three people that I love and trust have had dreams about Olivia–one where she was running and kicking a soccer ball, another where she was walking circles around Gammy (she currently doesn’t walk at all), and a third that brought me to tears:

Dreaming, a friend of mine saw a row of houses all alike–each with a window box full of flowers. There were varying numbers of flowers at each of the different houses, and ours had only one. While all of the other flowers were strong and healthy, ours was withered and drooping. People came knocking at our door to offer condolences. Some wanted to press our flower or put it in a glass box. We were becoming frustrated at the well-meaning visitors when the street emptied–all except for one woman carrying two pots of flowers on a pole over her shoulders. She came to our door, saw our flower and said, “Oh, that’s easy! I can fix that!” Then the pollen from her flowers blew onto ours and caused it to bloom tall and beautiful.

  • God gave me a mental picture of Olivia as a young woman, with long blond waves flowing over her shoulders as she spoke to and audience of people. He also spoke to my heart saying, “Her healing will be gradual.”
  • Once, when I was having an especially hard time, my aunt reminded me of the legacy of healing that God has woven into my family already. My mom’s lungs collapsed several times as a child, and she stopped breathing completely. Today, she is healthy with no lung problems to speak of. I was born three months early, and doctors gave me a 50 percent chance to live; they later found a hole in my heart. The hole closed up miraculously, and I am alive to write this blog.
  • Another time, I asked God specifically for confirmation of his promise concerning Olivia’s healing. Five minutes later, a woman I’d never met and who knew nothing about my request, told me to read Romans 4:20:

“He staggered not at the promise of God through unbelief; but was strong in faith, giving glory to God; And being fully persuaded that, what he had promised, he was also able to perform.”–Romans 4:20-21 (KJV)

This verse has double the meaning for me, because it is about Abraham–someone I have related to in learning to surrender my only child to God while still holding on to His promise. (Read more about this here.)

The telling of these moments when God has steadied my faith could go on, but for now I only want to say that God has proven to me over and over again that He is big enough, and good enough–that He CARES enough that I can trust Him with Olivia’s future.

Though I pray this post encourages someone to stand firm in believing for victory in their own battle, I am writing it for myself. It is my obedience, the word of my testimony, and my prayer of faith. Even as I write this, I can feel the courage of a warrior rising in my heart–something only God can give.

Half of me is laughing, because before we ever suspected that Olivia might be sick, I wrote and recorded something called “Warrior’s Song.” Robert played it the other day and chuckled because it has a line in it that says, “burn the white flag of surrender.” He thought that was funny, considering the title of this blog.

I thought about the irony–both in the fact that I didn’t realize the meaning of the song while I was writing it, and in using that phrase on a site called Free to Surrender.

I decided that while surrender is the key to everything that God is doing in my life right now, it means nothing if I am surrendering to the wrong side. So I will surrender to the only One who is worthy of it:  Jesus, who gave His life to give me everything. And, I will stand and fight in Jesus’ name and in His strength against the enemy of my soul–the one who would take it all if I let him.

Father,

Thank You for allowing me to be Olivia’s mother. I put her in Your hands–only You can save her. I believe that You are Healer and that You are good. Your Word says that You are both able and willing to heal her, and I place my faith in Your Word, which doesn’t return empty. I will not stagger in unbelief. I trust that You are able to perform Your promise. Olivia’s future is Yours, and I will trust You with it no matter what happens. I resist Satan’s plan for Olivia and rebuke the powers of darkness that would destroy her. Though the thief comes to kill, Jesus brings abundant life, and we receive it in His name. Thank You for Your awesome plan for Olivia’s life and for the assurance that You will complete what you have started in her.

In the name of Jesus,
Amen

Thanks to Robert Chapman, Chris Gilliam, Crystal Mott, Brandon Pelton and Katy Skogberg for playing on the recording of this song.

Click here to read Olivia’s Story.

 

Light: This is Christmas

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Formless darkness
Empty void
And God said, “Let there be
LIGHT”

Gracious Father
Endless love
Countenance brimming with
LIGHT
Chosen enslaved
Shadowed land
Upon them shines a great
LIGHT

Only Savior
Tiny babe
The world receiving its
LIGHT
Heaven’s answer
Promised Son
The Word made flesh bringing
LIGHT

Selfish, blinded
blackest heart,
Truth pierces through giving
LIGHT
Freely offered
Gift of sight
Jesus the source of all
LIGHT
Glaring purpose
Perfect peace
My eyes are alive with
LIGHT

Painful chaos
Broken world
What better place for a
LIGHT?
Hopeless hurting
Dark despair
Desperate, they’re searching for
LIGHT
Countless hurting
Dying now
How can I cover the
LIGHT?

This is Christmas
Christ revealed
I am a mirror for
LIGHT
Gleaming lampstand
Hope unveiled
Beacon of love, beaming
LIGHT

Morning Star
Coming soon
Carry the message of
LIGHT
Life reflected
Dusk dispelled
Rise up and stand in the
LIGHT!

You just read the final post in a series called 7 Days of Focus on Jesus. May all of our hearts be turned toward Him this Christmas. If you missed a post, you can find it below:

Why Jesus Went Christmas Shopping
‘Twas the First Christmas Evening: A Retelling
5 Simple Christmas Activities that Point Kids to Jesus
The Gifts I leave Wrapped
An Invitation to Christmas Dinner
4 More Christmas Activities that Point Kids to Jesus

4 More Christmas Activities that Point Kids to Jesus

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Last year at this time, I was knee-deep in holiday lesson plans, 2nd-grade Christmas party planning, and writing/directing a production about the birth and life of Jesus. I’m a world away from all of that now, but with five additions to our household this year, finding ways to make Christmas special is important in a whole new way!

The busyness that surrounds this season can leave you looking back from December 26th, wondering where all the time and opportunities to pour into your children went. But I wanted to highlight the joy of Christmas, not dampen it with more time-fillers that unnecessarily become a financial burden.

I wrote about some of the things we are doing this year a few days ago in:  5 Simple Christmas Activities that Point Kids to Jesus. Here are four more easy and low-cost ways to help kids focus on Jesus this Christmas:

6) Add the Christmas Story to your countdown calendar.
As a little girl, I always looked forward to taking my daily candy cane from the calendar my mom made to help our family count down to Christmas Day. This year, I decided to make the story of Jesus’ birth part of our countdown. I divided the Biblical account into easy-to-digest sections that can be read each night of the week before Christmas Day. Then, I printed the scriptures out and rolled each section into a “scroll” that fit nicely into the pockets of the countdown calendar. Now, one of the girls can unroll part of the Christmas story during evening devotionals each night. Get my Christmas Story Countdown here:

Christmas Story Countdown

7) Sing!
This may sound obvious, but I hadn’t realized the lack of music playing in our house until one of the girls mentioned not feeling the “Christmas spirit.” Now, we pick a Christmas station on the radio, create one on Pandora, or make our own music, singing “Joy to the World” while getting ready for school in the morning and “What Child is This?” at bedtime.

8) Play Christmas Charades or Pictionary.
For some Jesus-centered family fun, fill a bowl full of phrases like:

  • Star of Bethlehem
  • No room in the inn
  • Swaddling clothes (try acting THAT out!)
  • Frankincense, gold, and myrrh (or drawing THAT!)
  • Silent Night

Form teams to play charades or pictionary. Drawing and acting will make your kids active participants in honoring the Christmas Story, rather than just an audience to it. If you’re brave, you could get out some play dough and sculpt (instead of drawing) or play “name that tune” with favorite carols.

9) Look for a way to serve others.
Make homemade ornaments for a nursing home, blankets for the homeless, or cookies for your local law enforcement officers. The list of ways to be a blessing to others is endless, but the experience may more meaningful if you brainstorm your own ideas as a family. Whatever you choose, your kids are bound to discover how much joy can be found in giving to others.

You just read the 6th post in a series called 7 Days of Focus on Jesus. May all of our hearts be turned toward Him this Christmas. If you missed a post, you can find it below:

Why Jesus Went Christmas Shopping
‘Twas the First Christmas Evening: A Retelling
5 Simple Christmas Activities that Point Kids to Jesus
The Gifts I leave Wrapped
An Invitation to Christmas Dinner

To keep up with the last post, subscribe by scrolling down and entering your email address below. 

An Invitation to Christmas Dinner

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I haven’t received many fancy dinner invitations and wouldn’t know where to begin if my place at the table was set with more than two forks. Many of my favorite holiday memories, though, revolve around food. Maybe it’s an American thing.

When I think of Christmases past, I can remember sitting on a tall stool at Pama’s rounded kitchen bar, sneaking one of Aunt Ronda’s deviled eggs while the other grandkids were playing in the backyard. Later, I would fill my plate with ham, Pama’s amazing dressing and giblet gravy (she put boiled eggs in the dressing and the gravy), hot rolls, and green bean casserole.

That was just the first trip. If my uncles hadn’t caught the bird on fire trying to fry it, there was plenty of turkey to go around. If someone decided to let my mom into the kitchen, she might make fruit salad and a cheesecake. I always crossed my fingers that Aunt Becky would bake her sausage balls and broccoli rice casserole. By the time the Cowboy’s game came on, I was stuffed.

Not too stuffed to eat the leftovers, though.

Over the years the menu changed some. We might have Uncle Duane’s gumbo and some brisket to boot. My mom learned how to cook and would make Pama’s dressing to go with it.

Unfortunately, my own cooking skills are underdeveloped. If it was all up to me, my family might starve … or be served fried bean burritos from Allsups.

It’s OK, though, because I finally got one of those fancy dinner invitations:

“Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good; Blessed is the man who trusts in Him!”–Psalms 34:8 (NKJV)

Cordially, God summons me to His table to experience His goodness.

It’s a reminder that the One who gave me five senses, invites me to use each one to discover all of the reasons why I can trust in Him fully.

Pama’s kitchen was one of the safest places in my childhood world; there, I knew I was loved and accepted. She made me feel special in a way no one else could. It was a place where there was always a card game to join–where laughter and spoons and stories bounced off the walls.

The aroma of freshly-baked dressing coming out of the oven can bring me back to that kitchen in an instant.

So it is with my Father’s world:

  • The scent of the morning dew after a gentle rain reminds me that His mercies are new every morning.
  • I see my native West Texas sky, filling the endless space from horizon to horizon, and remember that His faithfulness reaches beyond the clouds.
  • The sound of little-girl voices singing “Silent Night” causes my heart to swell at the majesty of God.
  • I feel the pat of Olivia’s tiny hand on my shoulder as I hold her close and know that my Father sees me right where I am.
  • In fellowship found around a dinner table filled with family, I taste the goodness of the One who created Heaven and earth for His family.

He invites, and I feel safe. Cherished. Loved. Accepted. And more special than anyone else can make me feel.

You just read the 5th post in a series called 7 Days of Focus on Jesus. May all of our hearts be turned toward Him this Christmas. If you missed a post, you can find it below:

Why Jesus Went Christmas Shopping
‘Twas the First Christmas Evening: A Retelling
5 Simple Christmas Activities that Point Kids to Jesus
The Gifts I leave Wrapped

To keep up with the last two posts, subscribe by scrolling down and entering your email address below. 

 

The Gifts I Leave Wrapped

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“So often, these presents are wrapped up and ready to be opened, if only I would seek out His presence.”

3 …
The number is hardly out of her mouth before I’m sprinting through the house

2 …
like the Purina Beggin’ Strips dog “getting that bacon,”

1 …
but she finishes before I can make it to the presents. Dejected, I am left watching wistfully as my little brother–who was hiding behind the tree–gets to open a Christmas gift early.

My mom enjoys playing mind games with her children. She would entice us with promises of early yuletide joy … IF we could beat her countdown to the wrapped treasures under the tree. Mom always waited until she was certain we were at the far end of the house before she started counting.

Until my brother’s crafty mind outsmarted her.

Actually, if I remember correctly, I used one of mom’s own tactics–“sweet eyes,”  she liked to call it–and convinced her that since Chris had gotten to open a gift, I should too.

How I wish that my heart would learn to go after God’s gifts with the childish zeal and abandon that drove me to drop everything and hurdle the sofa that day.

Just like my mom, my Father thrills in the excitement and joy of His kids. Like her, He goes out of His way to select gifts that will not only meet a need but also prompt squeals of delight. So often, these presents are wrapped up and ready to be opened, if only I would seek out His presence.

Stored somewhere in the filing cabinets of my mind is the knowledge of this truth, but my heart has a hard time finding it for all the Facebook feeds, monthly budgets, TV transcripts, to-do lists and other adult paperwork that clutters the path.

Why do I so often choose to temporarily appease my desire for what I know cannot last when God is freely offering a banqueting table full of that which can never be taken from me?

I think it is because my mind teaches my heart to forget. Or perhaps, in some instances, my heart never really learned in the first place.

In either case, my heart desperately  needs to become more versed in Daddy’s extravagant ways. I recognize and can even utilize mom’s “sweet eyes” but turn a deaf ear to the whispers of the One who would pursue me to the ends of the earth, by means of an endless stream of artful gestures.

It is the junk food addict’s dilemma. I can’t crave the things that would nourish and satisfy because of my infatuation with what is good for a moment.

The solution for the junk food lover is to rid the system of carbs and sweets so that the appetite can be trained to crave vegetables and fruit.

And for me? My course is easier, because every small step I take toward God will be met with a giant leap. Truthfully, I need not even lean to step out on my own; it is His wooing that stirs me to make the move.

However unfamiliar I may be with the heart of God, He is intimately aquainted with the far recesses of my mind and the depths of my soul.

The only one who knows every wall of my heart, My Father is both the giver of presents and my guide into His presence. He alone is willing to keep giving, guiding and chasing for as long as it takes.

“He brought me to the banqueting house, And his banner over me was love.”–Song of Solomon 2:4 (NKJV)

“We love Him because He first loved us.”–I John 4:19 (NKJV)

You just read the 4th post in a series called 7 Days of Focus on Jesus. May all of our hearts be turned toward Him this Christmas. If you missed a post, you can find it below:

Why Jesus Went Christmas Shopping
‘Twas the First Christmas Evening: A Retelling
5 Simple Christmas Activities that Point Kids to Jesus

To keep up with days 5-7, subscribe by scrolling down and entering your e-mail address in the form below.