It seems like our lives are being other-directed. We are told how to live it and what to pursue. And those others also come across as unfathomably wise, assuring us that they can sort all our problems. But what about God?
If we stopped to think about it, if God made our ears, that means he can hear us. If he made our eyes, he sees us. He knows what is happening in our world – Covid 19 – and he isn’t standing by idle. He keeps trying to get our attention, saying, “Nothing happens by mistake. Someone’s greed precipitated this pandemic, someone’s disregard for creation and humanity.”
But the experts tell us, “WE’VE got this under control. Just be patient. That vaccine is coming. WE will save the world.”
God responds: “That plan is laughable. Greed will cause yet another tragedy. Greed will keep causing harm. Your human hearts are bent that way. Sure, take the vaccine, but remember that it can’t save your heart from greed – only I can… Please, come close and listen. Grasp my Son’s hand. Then you too can own your choice to treat creation and humanity with respect.”
From Psalm 94:8-11. (Photo by Noah Buscher on Unsplash)
A year ago exactly, On Unclipped Wings slipped onto the market almost unnoticed. But God noticed. Often, he reminds me how important it was to write it. It comes through Bible verses, or an unexpected comment from someone.
He also reminds me that our stories are entwined. For, whatever happens in my life, or in any of our lives, he is right there with us, holding us up and cheering us on. And through his participation, our stories become his story as well. So when he says, “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father in heaven,” (Matthew 4:16) it is so very true.
To God, my flickering flame or that gigantic spotlight are both lights worth sharing. Both are important. Both are good.
A “new normal” is coming and I feel lost. It’s darkness and confusion, like Genesis 1 all over again. “Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface.” But there was God!
He spoke the first ever recorded words in that darkness: “Let there be light.” Light! And it has NEVER changed since then.
Another unchangeable is Jesus, the true “light of the world.” (John 8:12) And in these uncertain times, it is so easy for me to forget that as I follow him, I will “never walk in darkness.” NEVER. Because he is unchanging.
The “new normal” is coming, and I feel so wobbly. But one thing is already in place – Jesus – that constant and unwavering Light. No need to fear.
Sometimes our emotions hurt too much and we hide from God. But, if we could take a deep breath and open our Bibles, we could find God’s comfort. “The Lord is close to the broken-hearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.” (Psalm 34:18) He cares so much for us.
Taking a walk can bring comfort. For me, it was watching a bird hop along a path, trying to escape my approach. Suddenly it stretched its wings and flew away. And God reminded me that I too can get away from those who threaten me. He says, “I carried you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself.” (Exodus 19:4)
Talking with a friend is another way. The Bible says, “Then those who feared the Lord talked with each other, and the Lord listened and heard.” (Malachi 3:16) God wants us to share our hearts and hurts, for this too is his comfort.
I once believed that brokenness was for life. I would never become unbroken. I might never be able to move on.
How wrong I was. Just as God took chaos and spoke this beautiful earth into place, he can do the same for us. He speaks over each one of us: “But you who revere my name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings and you will go out and frolic…” (Malachi 4:2)
Healing comes through relationship. As we honour our God, put him first, love him with all our broken hearts, he does his part. He rises like the sun over our dark and hurting lives. He brings us healing and joy.
Something spooked my father and we fled until he felt safe – a thousand miles. We finally set up tents on an Arizona mountain, beside a road built by prisoners of war. For three weeks we camped in that desolate wilderness.
In the silence, I played my accordion. My melody echoed with the remembered chisel sounds of those prisoners. I too was a captive to someone else’s fear. Yet my fingers played something far more captivating…
“Oh the deep, deep love of Jesus Vast, unmeasured, boundless, free Rolling as a mighty ocean In its fullness over me, underneath me, all around me Is the current of your love Leading onward, leading homeward To your glorious rest above.”
Jesus holds us tight in a love that understands.
Composer: Samuel Trevor Francis (1834-1925). Photo: OB OA on Unsplash.
He said, “Sometimes truth is stranger than fiction. I found myself immersed and, as I read, I kept wondering how a story like this could take place. I wondered how much more psychological battering the key player, a daughter, could take, and what motivated her religious parents to act and speak as they did.
This account relates how a daughter’s freedom was seriously restricted, even into adulthood, and how she was repeatedly devalued and considered to have no potential. I expected her to become embittered and broken, to rebel against religion. But, for the grace of God…
Her story is well told, engaging, and not quickly forgotten. I was challenged by her resilience and positive attitude, that she survived and then triumphed, that beauty grew in adversity.”
Yesterday I met a stranger who is fed-up and utterly underwhelmed by his job. He said, “Sometimes I lose the will to live.”
I had no wise answer, no words of encouragement, even though I have been in those same shoes as well. But I made a comment and this person started laughing. And then I remembered, this is how God often comforts me.
For, “we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God.” (2 Corinthians 1:4) In my troubles God gives me laughter. A clumsy mistake with a funny antic. A sudden ACHOO in a silent library. Watching a duck skid on ice.