Publish Peace

I daily wonder what the Lord is doing with my life. I am reading Exodus, and see that the Israelites were often wondering the same thing. However, they seem to be slow of faith and quick with discouragement and dismay. I don’t want to be like that, but I see that I am. I want to learn from them, and not repeat their mistakes.
1. I will remember what God says
God told them that he would bring them to their promised land, but they forget and forget this. God also promises this to me, that he has a plan, a hope, and a future for me. To continually question this and disbelieve it only hurts me, and stalls out my trip to my promised future.
2. I will have courage
The Israelites have trouble listening to God because of their discouragement. In a way, it was louder in their ears than even God. I need to have courage, and face my world with God’s strength.
3. I will just keeping moving
As the Israelites are standing at the Red Sea crying out to God, moaning and groaning about their pitiful state, God says “Move on.” They needed to just keep going no matter what they faced. Standing around questioning God isn’t in the plan.

After they get through the Red Sea, they “saw the great power the Lord displayed” and “put their trust in him.” I hope I can see his power in my life and put my trust in him daily.

It had been a deep trough of a rut. The bottom of a dry well. The end of a slippery rope. Nothing was normal, everything was difficult like wading through mud. When it came to seeking God, I could hardly do anything. I finally opened my Bible one day, and I read Deuteronomy 4. I don’t know why I chose such a random chapter. But all I could do was read that same chapter over and over, and I read it for months. Seriously, I read nothing else for months and months. My senses couldn’t seek God with any more energy than that. I definitely felt some guilt. Shouldn’t I be consuming the Word? Shouldn’t I be making progress? What is wrong with my faith? But something told me to just hang on, and keep doing the most I could, which was read these words:

“Because he loved your forefathers and chose their descendants after them, he brought you out of Egypt by his Presence and his great strength.”

I learned something this week, after months of my personal Egypt. This is the first verse, of the entire Bible, where God’s love is stated verbally. This overwhelms me. In earlier stories, God acts in love. He is loving. He shows emotion and reveals things like a breaking heart, but this is the first place God is said to have loved. I feel like, and am, one of the chosen descendants of the loved ones. He is going to bring me out of this season because of his love. In the midst of it all, he loves me.

And if you want to know the rest of the story, I have woken up considerably. I looked up to heaven one day and I was released from my Egypt–no doubt by his Presence and great strength. I could go into detail, but what I really want to say is that God is faithful. There is no change in him, Egypt or no Egypt. All of my life is as it is because God loved. He loves. He loves me.

I have this calling. One that I know in my heart of hearts is real. It is not conventional or easy. But, as a child of God, I know that what he has for me is the best thing. It takes full advantage of every part of who I am, and what I am meant to be in career and in character. It prepares me for an eternal relationship with God, and offers me a truly fulfilling and purposeful life. So why is that calling so hard to face?

It is hard to face, but nevertheless I face it. When I wake up it is in front on me. When I am at work it lurks behind me. When I am doing dishes it consults with me and debates for my full compliance. If I don’t assent, I think it might slowly fade. It will allow me to live a life apart from God’s will, for that is my free choice. But I know it will return, and how awful that will be, when I am old, to look back and know that I ran from my very life.

I read today about the apostles in their first adventures as Christians in the book of Acts. They seem brave. How motivating it must have been, just days from the physical presence of Christ, and the audible commands from his mouth, to tell people about his love. How exhilarating it must have been to be free from the inane traditions of their religion for the first time, and be freed to pursue a living and vibrant personal relationship with the Lord, and to go out daily with compassion for those who did not yet know it. How intimidating. How perilous. How they must have been deeply and sincerely strengthened by this calling. It must have spoken to their very essence; to the very purpose for which they were created.

The risks of facing God’s calling weigh heavy on me. Maybe they shouldn’t, but they do. Peter and John prayed that the Pharisees, in conspiring against Jesus, did what God’s power and will had decided beforehand should happen. With this I am comforted. Could it be true that all that will happen to me will be filtered through the faithful and holy power and will of God? All that will happen? Yes, it must be all. There is nothing that will come at me that he has not allowed. There lies peace, and the source of fearlessness.

As I face this calling I have, I know that I am accompanied by power. I am watched over by the Lord and his angels, so that nothing is happening that is not in the will of God. And I take it into my heart as boldness and power to go full speed toward the will of God for my life.

I have an article today on www.relevantmagazine.com. It is called “The Sinking of Sadness.” You’ll see it on the front page under the “God” heading. Enjoy!

Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens. Psalm 68:19

I read this verse three days ago and continually have been going back to it. The Psalm writer believes that God bears his burdens. Not once, or sometimes when he prays enough, but daily. Daily.

I have to believe it. I bear those burdens daily, and to think that I have a God who daily bears with me through it all, is amazing. Comforting. It doesn’t exactly fix anything. I still have to walk through my own suffering. But knowing it means denying the lie that I am alone in the struggle. I’m not. You aren’t. He daily bears our burdens. Amazing.

Do you find this to be true? How does he bear your burdens? What is that like for you?

I am at Peaberry Coffee, where there is a bar to sit at that faces the street. I am sitting there today, and there is a Weimaraner staring at me from his mini-van. I doubt it is his mini-van, but I am sure the guy who owns the van is in the shop getting coffee.

Now his owner has returned, petting him and talking to him. It is funny to watch someone talk to their dog, when you can’t hear what is being said. I wonder what he is saying? I wonder what the dog is hearing?

We watched Cast Away on TV the other night, the part where Tom Hanks starts talking to the volleyball. We watched until Wilson floats away on the sea (sorry if you haven’t seen it, you had plenty of time.) Hanks cries and heaves like he has lost everything.

I said to Eric, “Would someone really talk to an inanimate object like it was a person?” We couldn’t decide. Maybe, if they were desperate, we agreed.

Then I looked over and saw my Cocker Spaniel. I talk to this dog like she was my soul mate. I ask her how her day was, what happened in the back yard today, and then I wait like she will answer. I ask her if she feels good, if she is happy. I ask her what she wants. I have asked this dog about her relationship with God. I am serious.

I guess people do talk to non-people. They not only talk with them, they can bond with them and connect with them.

What is going on? Are we nuts?

I don’t think it is an issue of sanity. I just think we were created to walk and talk with someone always, God, and when we are alone we sometimes defer to whatever is in the room, a dog, a volleyball, a picture of a loved one.

I don’t think we were created to be alone with our thoughts. I think we were intentionally made to desire and need the presence of God with us, communing with us, walking with us.

But ever since the beginning when we chose the knowledge of evil, like we do everyday, there has been a problem with this connection. It is hard to make. It is hard to be conscious of God, to be full of enough faith to talk with him when we can’t see him. It is hard just to to remember him.

It can feel even harder to surrender to him, to be forgiven by him, to accept the grace he gives so that we can walk with him. It feels easier to talk to the wall.

But it is not better. I won’t stop talking to my dog, but I might think twice about talking to her about how I feel, about how I am beaten down by the day and need someone to understand. God wants to know that. He wants to satisfy that need I have. He wants to be there for me.
All Maddie really hears anyway is blah blah blah outside blah blah Maddie blah blah eat.

The ministry I work for threw a 20th anniversary reunion for all the people who have been involved in the ministry for the last two decades. Many people came; alumni of our training programs, past and current supporters of the ministry, former staff, and volunteers.

We remembered all weekend. We listened to all the stories of how God had worked, how he had led people by faith, and they had followed. We heard how the first arrivals to Denver did not even have homes to go to, and as they read through a Psalm together in a hotel room one night, the phone began to ring with realtors offering closings. We heard how the land beside our building is worth half a million dollars but was sold to us for only $5,000. We heard how all the furniture was donated, all the decorating was donated, and all the bills had always been paid. We heard current news of summer camps and how lives had been changed, how people had been set free from all the bondage and lies the world has to offer. We heard stories like the one where 53 were baptized and the one where 58 were told the name of Jesus for the first time. We heard about how God’s spirit had been tangible and real.

It was good to remember. It is always good to remember. It is essential. It is by the past that we formulate our faith.

In Matthew 16, Jesus’ disciples went across the lake but forgot to take bread. Jesus uses it as a teachable moment, and tells them to watch out for the yeast of the Pharisees and the Saducees. They don’t see the parable about bad teachers, but instead discuss their lack of bread.

Jesus response is one I wish he never had to say to me, but in my human-ness, he could say it to me everyday.

“Don’t you remember?” Jesus said.

“Don’t you remember,” he says, “the five loaves for the five thousand, and how many basketfuls you gathered? The seven loaves for the four thousand, and how many basketfuls you gathered?”

I wonder how many days it had been since each of those miracles occurred? I wonder why the idea that Jesus can materialize whatever they need had not entered into their minds? They had seen it. Eaten it. Picked up the basketfuls of extra.

How often do I forget to remember?

I have a friend who is not a worrier. I am sure this pleases the Lord greatly. She says that you can’t control things anyway, so you might as well not worry. It is amazing. She doesn’t worry about little things, she doesn’t worry about big things. She doesn’t worry.

Do you think she has let it sink way into her grey matter that the Lord can materialize what she needs when she needs it? Do you think she lives closer to the life we are all called to because of her level of trust and faith? I do.

I want to remember. I want to believe that what God has done in the past he will do in the future. I want to remember that the Lord is the Lord, and he doesn’t change. He is the same always, in character, in action, and in love. He cares for me, like the five thousand and the four thousand, and he can do huge things with very little.

Yesterday I spent some time writing about what God had done in my life. I made a list, remembering what God had brought me through, what he had given me, what he had taught me. It was sobering. With all this, how could I ever doubt?

I have been dreaming that I turn 30 this August. I really turn only 29. In the dream, my mom confesses that I am a year older than they have always told me. I don’t react well. Actually I freak out, and then I wake up.

Do you think I might be uneasy with graduating to adulthood? No longer young adult. Just adult. No naive excuses. No youth to crutch on. Just life-straight up.

I think I feel a real sense of change in the space I take up on the earth. There is a difference in me, and I am not sure what it is. I think it is direction.

I was directionless in my twenties. Not in everything, but in who I was in realtion to the rest of humanity. I wondered: What do I do? What is my place?

I think what we are is always there; it just takes time to see it. And it takes more time to believe it. And even more time to trust that God knew what he was doing when he made you that way.

Right now, I see what I am and I am trying to believe it and go after it. But I remember the struggle; it pops up again every now and then. I see it in my 20-something friends, and in people of all ages.

The struggle to find yourself is no thumb-wrestling match; it is muscle-wrenching fight to find your true place, your real calling, and your way there.

I was reading in Genesis yesterday, about the people who built the Tower of Babel, in the beginning of civilization after the great flood. I can imagine the scene, all these people searching for meaning in a blank canvas world. What do they want most? Security, safety, purpose, meaning. They saw a chance to build up a city and “make a name for themselves,” and they went after it.

I wonder if they felt like I did in my twenties. Who am I? Where do I belong in this world? How can I get myself there?

I wonder about God thwarting their plans. He swept in and scrambled them up like eggs in a frying pan. He made it so they couldn’t understand to each other, which ended their alliance. They had to go separate ways.

I wondered, what harm is there in a tower? What harm in making a name for your self? What harm in chasing after a dream that would provide the needed purpose and direction?

There must have been a reason God stopped them; a reason we need barriers and obstacles to our natural ambitions to “be someone.”

We are told as good little American schoolchildren to “make something of ourselves.” We are told to go out in the world and be somebody. To make success for ourselves. To fight for it and win.

What damage does this mentality create if I follow it? Much damage. It creates fields of destruction to my soul, avalanches of devastation to my relationship with my creator, a lifetime of waywardness from my perfect place in the world.

The next chapter of Genesis speaks of Abraham. God told him, “I will make your name great.” What a contrast to the tower-builders. A gift. Not a battle, not a fight. A free gift. A life. A legacy. A land to live in and a family to inhabit it. All the things Abraham most needed and wanted.

This gift came with a clause, “Go to the place I will show you.”

Abraham did not receive a deed to the Promised Land in the mail and a wagon-full of tents to hold all the family he instantly possessed. He received a promise, and a command. Go, to where I will show you. He didn’t even get the address of his destination, a key to his office, or a positive pregnancy test. He got a promise, and a command. Go. I will show you.

I built a tower-life and saw God scramble it. It was painful to watch it fall. It was hard to see my inability to get a life for myself. But I was saved from who knows what damage. I stood in the rubble, and only then was able to hear God. I was able to hear, “I will make your life great. Go, to the place I will show you.”

Where am I going? I am not exactly sure. Am I getting there? Definitely. I am so thankful for God’s tough love, scrambling my plans, and building them back up the right way. Only the true love of a Father would save me in such a way.

If you hang around artists enough, you will hear them talk about “place”. “The sense of place here is strong,” they often say when in a beautiful or history rich environment.

Indianapolis has a festival called Spirit and Place. At this event, the whole artistic and religious community interacts on the theme that places have distinct meanings and traditions, which can inspire us and direct us. Roman mythology, believes a Genius Loci, a protective spirit, is in every distinctive “place.”

This “spirit of place” as it is called, smells of fairies and gnomes, but I think it is otherwise. I wonder if people aren’t sensing something that started with God.

I read the Bible. I read it because it is a way to hear God, and a way to understand what I am and what I do on Earth. I believe, as any good Christian or mystic does, that God speaks. I hear him speak through scripture stories and writings, and I heard him speak to me about place.

“Go to the place I will show you,” he said. Actually he said that to Abraham, concealing the location of where he should go. Tricky. So how do you head somewhere you don’t have coordinates for?

I communed with Abraham over this dilemma. I heard the same words, in my heart/mind/soul/spirit, and I knew God was calling me to go there- wherever there was.

When I was a kid at summer camp, we had an event each night called TBA (To Be Announced.) I grew up to be counselor at this camp, so I experienced the drama of an unannounced destination from both sides. TBA works well, especially when you procrastinate planning, like counselors often do. The campers would beg, but we wouldn’t tell. If we told, we were in for it. Campers lost all sense of enjoyment in the day activities. Swimming, fishing, archery, all looked dull in the face of staff-on-camper capture the flag, or tug of war over the mud pit. Who could focus on leatherwork with such wonders ahead?

“Go to the place TBA.” I wonder a bit, if God was not calling Abraham and me (and you) to the undefined Promised Land, to both a place of his provision and fulfillment in this world, and also a place of provision and fulfillment in eternity. Can we head toward both at the same time?

I think there is great connection between Spirit and Place. I think our spirit is a place.

“When I called they did not listen, so when they called, I would not listen. This is how they made the pleasant land desolate.” Zechariah 7: 12, 14

I think there was a present land the Israelites made desolate, and another land.

The desolation of that other place was a desolate place in their hearts. I believe it was a kind of Promised Land; a kingdom God is promising that has to do with a state of heart. I know it has to be. Where I live, where I am really headed, is not a physical location, but a state of being. Where I am in my heart is where I live. It affects much more that any place I could physically be.

What if the pleasant land God promises is a state of heart where we dwell peacefully in vibrant fellowship with him? What if it is that satisfaction every human on earth is searching for? What if it is communion with God, fellowship with Him that frees us from the cycle of sin, and allows us to live where we were created to live? With him.

This sounds like the gospel to me. Living in our promised land, we are inhabitants of our true destiny, dwellers in our created purpose, residents of our perfect existence. We are able to live in that eternal present moment where God lives, intimate with our creator, like we were meant to be.

A person can live in this land of plenty, or like the Israelites Zechariah talks of, in a desolate land.

I once watched a man go through a great loss. He was without a relationship with God, and was experiencing a land of desolation. He could find no explanation for anything that was happening to him. He knew no hope of redemption of his suffering, no promise of peace or future happiness. I could see in his eyes where he was living. It looked like my idea of hell. He was living in the void created when God is not there. It was a desolate land, a place he was never meant to live, but without the acceptance of his need for God, it was all he could find.

“When I called they did not listen, so when they called, I would not listen. This is how they made the pleasant land desolate.”

I am desperate to live in the place God created for me. I am grasping daily, for that connection with God, that obedient listening to him, that guides me into the Promised Land, and away from the desolate desert without him. I love that land flowing with all I need, with all my soul desires, with the sustenance of God himself. I need him to take me there, everyday. I hold tight onto his hand for that very reason.

I just finished reading the Gospel of Luke. It is an amazing thing to read this story and to believe that I am a part of it. I love believing it is an unfinished epic, and my current life is its continuance.

I have to confess that, this time, I began reading Luke like it was a fairytale; like it were some far off vision of a quaint threesome huddled around a manger.

But the Christmas chapters end quickly, and I am soon involved in the life of a man called Simeon. He is introduced as a righteous man, filled with the Spirit and waiting for the Messiah. He approaches Joseph and Mary at the temple, takes the child Jesus in his arms, and praises the Lord for the arrival of the long-awaited salvation.

A prophetess named Anna was also there at the temple. She “gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were looking forward to the redemption of Jerusalem.”

Who are these people? The way I remember the religious people in the gospel stories is different. Weren’t they usually hard-hearted religious leaders, slow-to-believe disciples, or confused crowds? Evidently there were still people who had been waiting for the Messiah, and for a very long time. Collectively, the Israelites had held out faith and hope for salvation for hundreds of years. Simeon and Anna would have learned this hope from their parents, and their parents from their parents, and on and on through all the begats back to Abraham. Their families must have read and obeyed the scriptures, must have heard and believed the prophesies. They must have been taught as children to expect the Messiah. These were people who remembered the words of God and believed them.

There is another person I found waiting for the Messiah, a man named Joseph of Arimathea. We remember him as the man from out of town, who buried Jesus’ body, but I think he needs to be remembered for another reason. Scripture says he was a “a member of the Council, a good and upright man, who had not consented to their decision and action. He came from the Judean town of Arimathea and he was waiting for the kingdom of God.”

I would rather remember Joseph for waiting. I want him to be commended for holding out hope and faith so many years after God promised Abraham his everlasting Lordship and provision. I want him to be acknowledged for wading through the muck of life, for living and working among the falsely religious, yet still waiting in his heart for the kingdom, for his King.

I learn from him. I wonder about the state of his heart while he is present during Jesus’ trial, objecting to Jesus’ death sentence, realizing he will not be heard. I grieve with him as he watches the sickeningly celebratory parade to the cross, as he sees his Lord die, as he goes to ask for the body. I feel the strain in his muscles as he wraps Jesus’ limp body in fabric, the sinking in his chest as he places the body in a dark and cold tomb. I stand outside with him as the stone-door is rolled shut with a thud. I wait with him in that moment, which is all you can really do for the bereaved. I cry for this test of his faith.

I hope for him as he walks away, that he is able to keep waiting, the three more days, for the miracle. I guess from his character that he will wait. I guess from his position of leadership that he will hear the news that Jesus was seen alive. I hope that he hears of Jesus’ last words to the disciples- that “repentance and forgiveness of sins will be preached to all nations, beginning at Jerusalem.”

I hope for Joseph of Arimathea, in having the faith to wait, that he now has the faith to praise God, like Simeon, and to speak out, like Anna.

I hope that the Holy Spirit fills him with a new passion and a vision for his people. I hope that he is able to reach out to them with the truth, with the living Lordship of Christ.

As I write this, I see that I am projecting all my hopes for myself onto Joseph of Arimathea. My self-centeredness assures I will read about Joseph this way, but I think that is why God gives us these accounts, these non-fiction biographies of people living their lives and looking for God. I see that we are all waiting; that we are all a part of the continuing story. Joseph was waiting for the Messiah to come as expected, we are waiting for Jesus to return as expected. How long we will wait is undetermined. But we are asked to wait. And we are asked to respond to the good news as I hope Joseph did.

Today I am amazed at the story. I am amazed that the news of the covenant God laid out to Abraham, and that the news of its fulfillment in Jesus ever made its way to me. Like Joseph from the Judean town of Arimathea, I am still waiting for the kingdom of God, in large part because those before me held out hope and faith for the promises of God. They listened to what God promised and believed it. They passed down the covenant and its fulfillment until it reached me, here in Hope, IN, here in hope for Christ’s return.

I am the current last name on our line of begats. I am amazed at Lawrence who begat Robert who begat Susan who begat me. I am indebted to Paul who begat James who begat Douglas who begat me. And to my spiritual forefathers, Jon, Tom, Jennifer, Brenda, Beverly, and the list goes on. Their legacy of faith allows me to pull the next shift of faithful waiting. I pray that my lamp is full of oil and my eyes are wide open. I pray that I am obediently waiting for my Lord to return. I love that I am living the history of God, and that I will join with the faithful Simeons, Annas, and Josephs on the other side.

Powerlessness feels bad. I feel powerless today. I know that weakness is a vehicle for God’s power, even though that seems illogical and impossible, I know it isn’t.

I have been pondering a phrase from Ephesians 3.

“I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being…and that you may have the power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge-that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” Ephesians 3:16-19

I often notice that I don’t understand God. I notice that all of his ways and all of his purposes are the opposite of what I naturally understand and what I naturally can accept. I read a book by Madeline L’Engle in which she purports quite wisely that the ways of God are in the realm of the impossible, and we are called to believe with all childlike imagination.

In Ephesians 3, Paul prays that the Ephesians will have the power to grasp the size of God’s love, and that they will have the power to know that this love surpasses knowledge.

No wonder he goes on to speak of him who is able to do more that we can imagine. More than we can imagine. I tend to think that I can imagine with the best of them. But I am humbled to realize that there is more that I can imagine, more than I can know or understand. It realigns my being to understand that that sense of powerlessness is not there to be conquered. It is there to be embraced. It is the knowledge that I am governed by and loved by someone who is far more than I can imagine. Who must lend me his power so I can even begin to let into my consciousness the size of his love for me.

I want that power. I want the power to know this unimaginable love that surpasses knowledge.

My television is full of suffering this week. Why is there suffering in the world? I have no idea. I have a hunch that it is one of those God-sized thoughts I will never have.

Truly, I think the real question we all ask is “why is there suffering in my life?” Consider the different kinds of suffering. There is the kind of suffering that can change your life instantly, drastically. I haven’t really had a lot of that lately, if ever. There is also the kind of suffering that changes your life everyday, the kind that clings to you for days and weeks and years sometimes. I have friends who seem to be suffering in this way.

But as I woke up this morning, and found it hard to take a deep breath, and found it hard to relax my shoulders, and felt my body resisting activity, I began to wonder about myself, and so many people around me, suffering under stress.

As I talked to a friend last night, she shared that she was stressed. And she really is. There is reason after reason for her to feel real stress. I empathized, and then shared that I too was feeling stress. It is the kind that has been hanging around me for days, maybe weeks, and is beginning to be so present and familiar that I should just give it a name and feed it along with the dogs.

What are we supposed to do about stress? How do we respond in a godly way to very real feelings of stress? Is feeling stressed a sin? Should I be asking for forgiveness for not feeling peace 24/7?

My instincts tell me to lower my expectations. Stress may be a side effect of the pill our society has become, but I cannot seem to think positively enough to make it pass. There are wise things we all know to do (and consistently don’t do) when we are stressed. I know to eat better (I just had sugar-filled oil-filled ambrosia-like pumpkin bread); I know to exercise (but I am so tired…), to rest (when?) and to talk it out with someone (who is also stressed and needs to vent more than me…). This cycle is a downward spiral. It is painful, physically and emotionally.

What should my response be? What would be pleasing to God?

I have come to believe that we underestimate the power our thoughts have over our feelings. This thought-feeling connection gives power to God’s Word. God’s thoughts and God’s ways get in our heads and help direct our thoughts. We feel how we think. I believe it. If I think I am doomed, then I feel doomed, and act doomed. Conversely, if I think there is hope, I will feel hopeful and act in hope. Are my negative thoughts sinful? Well…they are attached to my sinful nature, and the only way to detach them is with the Word of God.

I know I am “hard pressed on every side but not crushed, perplexed but not in despair (2 Cor 4:8).” I know that “our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all (2 Cor 4:17).” I know that “suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope (Romans 5:3).”

If this is what I think, then how does it make me feel? I am not sure. Maybe more trusting and accepting of my stressed-out style of suffering. Maybe a little better able to relax into the pressure.

Today, I read about Jesus, the night before his crucifixion. He was suffering. He was pressured. I must not have ever given this passage a careful read, because today I saw him differently, as…fragile. I saw how he was overwhelmed in distress far beyond any I could ever feel. I saw how he was weak, and the only strength he had was God.

How did Jesus handle the stress he was feeling? He called together his (hardly supportive) friends, and asked them to pray. He confessed before his Heavenly Father that he was overwhelmed and wanted it all to go away. But the attitude of his heart was of the greatest importance. He says, “not as I will, but as you will.”

This attitude is one of trust, and faith. He is trusting that God knows what is best for him, even if it includes agony. He is full of faith that his all-powerful Father could take this away, but chooses not to. He is sure of what he hopes for and certain of what he does not see. He bows his life before his God, and accepts with confidence his lot.

Asking “why is there suffering in my life” is like asking, “why did Jesus have to suffer and die for me?” I may never understand why this was God’s perfect way, but I know that it is God’s perfect way.

What we do know is that there is a reason for his ways, for our suffering and for Jesus’ suffering. It is the perfect, God-chosen reason for everything; that we might find ourselves nearer to Him.

If you want to learn flexibility, confidence, fearlessness, and how to command an audience, substitute teach.

When I realized that I needed a temporary job, I knew in the back of my mind I had a perfectly current substitute teaching license, but I did not want to do it. It is hard. The last time I needed to sub, I hated it. The kids ate me alive. I was exhausted and spent at the end of each day.

This time around, I must be a different person. I still dreaded the anticipation of the first day, and wondered what in the world it would be like. However, maybe I just lightened up on myself a bit. Maybe I lowered my expectations for the day. I realized that a good day is when nobody dies. Learning is a happy bonus. I realized that each situation was a chance to meet new kids and be interested in their lives. I realized that if you teach jr. high, you generally have 4-5 hours of reading time, and in preschool, you are lucky if you get lunch.

I have taught high school welding, preschool, jr. high health (I had to teach them about pimples. Unfortunately for me, I had one that day.) I have taught second graders about ducks and eighth graders about margarine. I am headed today to teach high school P.E. Am I nervous? Why should I be? There is a bit of truth here in the benefit of confidence. The kids are like dogs. They can smell fear, truly. You may have heard it before, but they are much more contented if you act like you are in control. Then again, it can be also quite pleasant, if you smartly choose the right kid, to ask for help. They like to help, and they actually know what is going on, where I generally don’t. It is about empowerment. Shelby take attendance, Collin hand out papers, Drake tell me which bell means you can go, Axel (I really had one) turn on the TV. It can work.

Being completely out of your comfort zone can be a good thing. Everyday is a new school. Eventually I will find all the microwaves and faculty women’s bathrooms in all the schools in Columbus. It is like a treasure hunt. Maybe if I had a GPS thingy I could mark the coordinates and hide a “cash” for other subs. Get some motivation going.

Okay, you know there are funny stories when one substitute teaches. Here’s the best so far. After the duck lesson in the second grade class, we were studying muscles. We ran out of material, so I improvised and said “everyone stand up and we will stretch our muscles.” I reached up in the air to stretch tall, and I hear, loud and clear from Nicholas, “I see London, I see France, I see Mrs. Nentrup’s underpants!” I had a low hanging skirt and a high hanging slip. Yikes. Chagrinned by 7 year olds…

I’ve been to circle time where you sing “Honk if you love preschool…,” I’ve counseled a teen about his tattoo choices and chewing tobacco habit, I’ve lectured little girls about teasing little boys, I’ve read to a girl with no sight or use of her limbs, I’ve fessed up to 7th graders that I have no idea how to divide negative fractions. A good dose of humbleness can get you out of a lot with 7th graders. My usual line is, “Look, I’m an art major.” One girl said, “They really have you in the wrong class don’t they. I bet you would do better in humanities.” I’m sure I would.

I feel. There was a time when that was all I could say. There were no words attached to my emotions. I am sure there is someone who will understand this. Once a therapist asked me what feelings I could list. I had about three, and had to honestly stop and cry for my lack of understanding about how I felt. It is a funny thing, because I am such an emotional person! I feel everything. Everything is a feeling. Think of the strain it must have put on me to not be able to express who I really was. I can tell you that I definitely felt strained.

Over the last 10 years, I have begun to explore emotions. I caught myself today, asking myself how I really felt about a certain life change. I am entering a mentoring program with an itinerant speaker, and a first assignment was to list my fears. I was trying to process my real feelings. The first thought was “I don’t know.” That is one red flag that I am trying to hide emotions. The next thought was, “I feel confused.” That is another clue that I do not want to identify how I feel. I am not sure exactly why I do this. Why do we do anything we do? It is all just a junk drawer full of our childhood parenting, life experiences, people we have known and things that have happened to us. But it is definitely not all junk. There are useful tools in there, but also useless and harmful things, like old exact-o blades and used matches, and old anger and old fears, that tend to hide in those places. I am (and probably always will be) cleaning out my drawer.

I finally got to some feelings, and the one that came up first was, “I feel like an imposter.” I am no trained speaker. I am no trained minister. I am not qualified or even sure that I could be. I said to myself (talking with yourself is a good thing), “I feel like a fool.” What does that mean? I think it means I have no worldly proof, like a degree, a recommendation, ordination, or commendation to be in this program. By the measures of the world I would be a very poor choice to participate.

As my faithful God always does, he reminded me of some scripture that needs to be tattooed on my heart. It is an admonition from Paul about whom God intends to use, how we should embrace our shortcomings, and what to expect from the world on spiritual matters.

> God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong. 1 Corinthians 1:27

> We have not received the spirit of the world but the Spirit who is from God, that we may understand what God has freely given us. This is what we speak, not in words taught us by human wisdom but in words taught by the Spirit, expressing spiritual truths in spiritual words. The man without the Spirit does not accept the things that come from the Spirit of God, for they are foolishness to him, and he cannot understand them, because they are spiritually discerned. 1 Corinthians 2: 12-14

I think I absorbed the truth that my weakness is a good thing, and that the spirit-decisions I am making are not supposed to make sense. It is a hard thing to get. As Peter Scazzero says in his book “The Emotionally Healthy Church”, “Brokenness is a counter-culture truth.” I guess all the great hidden things of God are probably counter-cultural truths. Maybe they are just counter-human. Maybe the opposite of counter-human is “godly.”

I walked with God on a state park trail, and asked him to show me who he was. I saw the following:

He is the God of still water: a lake at dawn

He is the God of provision: a bee perfectly fitting in a buttercup flower

He is the God of contrast: a white mushroom on dark soil

He is the God of fallen things: a tree splintered on the ground

He is the God of soft landings: the mossy floor below the splintered tree

He is the God of color: a monarch wing, a fiery red leaf

He is the God of movement: the constant buzzing around me

He is the God of artists: layered color of a pine tree’s soft bark

He is the God of life from death: a tree growing out of a dead fallen trunk

He is the God of hidden things: a pattern of submerged moss, a surprise jumping fish

He is the God of small things: a spider with a tiny skin design

He is the God of large things: 50 tall pines standing together

He is the God of connections: two roots melded together in an X

He is the God of gravity: falling seedpods far off in the woods

He is the God of cause and effect: my breath rippling a spider web

He is the God of order: the delicate, nearly perfect rings of the web

He is the God of groups: mushrooms on a trunk

He is the God of the strong but small: tiny ants

He is the God of the weak: a sparrow, a daddy long legs

He is the God of music: birds calling and responding

He is the God of rhythm: the repeating locust trills

He is the God of male and female: the red cardinal and tan cardinal

He is the God of human impact: wire fence growing into trees

He is the God of human creativity: built birdhouses and wooden decks

He is the God of human compassion: bird sanctuary

He is God over all, in all, for all, to all.

For since the creation of the world God’s invisible qualities—his eternal power and divine nature—have been clearly seen, being understood from what has been made, so that men are without excuse. Romans 1:20

Have you ever noticed that the expressions you use frequently say a lot about your personality? My husband has pointed out that I often say, “Do you see what I am saying?” I am a visual thinker, wanting to know if others “see” what I am saying. I am an artist of sorts and everything is about seeing. I am also composed more of emotion than sound logic. I said the other day, “I feel like I don’t have enough cash.” Well, frankly we all know cash on hand has little to do with feeling. Either I do or I don’t have enough cash. It is the word “feel” that shows I think in terms of emotion.

God has been directing my attention to the heart a lot lately. This appeals to the emotion-centric side of me, but not to the visual side of me. Other than the organ that pumps blood into my body, what is my heart? What is this part of me that I can’t see, but that means everything to God?

I know Jesus said one of the greatest commandments is to love God with all your heart, soul, mind, and strength. These four parts of being human are connected, but there is something different about having a heart that loves God. My heart is where I ponder things and treasure things. It is where I feel emotions and hold passions. It is where I have desires and hopes and hold commitments and convictions.

I think of a quote from the end of a favorite romance movie, “ A woman’s heart is a deep ocean.” I agree, but I think it is true of all hearts. They run deep. They can be peaceful and raging, storm-tossed yet calm. The depth of our heart is something no romance hero or even a spouse committed over a lifetime can understand.

Only God knows our heart’s deepest conviction. We read in Jeremiah, “ I the Lord search the heart.” We see in 2 Chronicles, that “the eyes of the Lord range throughout the earth to strengthen those whose hearts are fully committed to him.” We read throughout the Old Testament stories of Israel’s Kings and how a heart devoted to God brings peace and a heart not set on seeking the Lord brings hardship.

In 2 Chronicles we read about Asa, King of Judah, and his choice to seek the Lord with all his heart. He led the people of Judah to make a covenant with the Lord that they would seek Him with all their heart. We read, “All Judah rejoiced about the oath because they had sworn it wholeheartedly. They sought God eagerly, and he was found by them. So the Lord gave them rest on every side.”

I hope they connected their rest with God’s good pleasure in their devotion. I wonder if the Jews of Jesus time thought of this passage when Jesus expressed the greatest commandments. I wonder if they thought of this when he told them, “Seek and you shall find if you seek with all your heart.”

In the end of King Asa’s life, when he faced fear, anger, and illness, he neglected to seek the Lord. Even this man, who led so many to seek God wholeheartedly, let his devotion wane. In order to continue with hearts fully committed to God, we must remember God’s place of Lordship in every day and every choice. Let the Lord search the depths of your heart and find your love for Him waiting there.

God gives us stepping-stones. Kind of like in the Indiana Jones movie, where he has to step on the correct stones to get to the Holy Grail. Luckily we can make mistakes with out falling into oblivion. As I go forward in faith I have noticed that my ‘aha’ moments are bittersweet. When I learn something about God, I mean really learn and internalize it; I am often amazed at how simple the truth is. Heavy, but simple, like a stepping-stone. God asks the simple things. “Love me, obey me, follow me, love others, trust me.” Why do these take a lifetime to learn?

I think I am on “Follow me” right now. Follow me. I have heard my husband say several times this week in one context or another, that all God asks is that we follow him. Like all the simple, yet heavy truths of God, I have heard it before. It is so ironic to think that I have heard every lesson that God had for me to learn, I just didn’t actually learn. It takes time and failure to learn. It takes necessity and interest to learn. I am sure Eric would not have learned how to fix a Ford Focus bearing if it wasn’t required. But he had to, out of necessity. Out of need. God blessed his efforts with a cheap solution. There was a cost; time on the computer, at the car, at five different stores, on the phone. But there was reward. Now he will never buy a Ford Focus again, but knows how to change the bearings, and how to avoid costly consequences of having someone else do it for him.

Just like Eric and the bearings, I must not have needed the “follow him” lesson until now. Maybe I won’t even get to the completion of my learning. I can guarantee I won’t. But the circumstances of my life make this lesson necessary. I am “following him” into uncharted territory of Christian work and support raising. I am “following him” into changes in lifestyle and habits. I am “following him” to places I have never been.

What does it really mean to follow him? As God is so great, I am reading the book of John right now, and this passage spoke out to me:

> “Listen carefully: Unless a grain of wheat is buried in the ground, dead to the world, it is never any more than a grain of wheat. But if it is buried, it sprouts and reproduces itself many times over. In the same way, anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life. But if you let it go, reckless in your love, you’ll have it forever, real and eternal. If any of you wants to serve me, then follow me. Then you’ll be where I am, ready to serve at a moment’s notice. The Father will honor and reward anyone who serves me. Right now I am storm-tossed. And what am I going to say? “Father, get me out of this’? No, this is why I came in the first place. I’ll say, “Father, put your glory on display.’” (John 12: 24-28 The Message)

Jesus tells the parable of the dying seed, to describe the benefit of his death. What I have never noticed before is that he then says, “If any of you want to serve me, then follow me.” Oh…he means follow his example in dying to the world for the sake of others…he means letting go of this life and all the temptations and distractions and holding on to true life. Following him does not just mean lining up behind him, like a good little school disciple behind her teacher. It means jumping off the train where he jumped off. Doing what he did. Laying down what I know as life, and picking up the eternal. “Anyone who holds on to life just as it is destroys that life.”
Heavy. Simple. Do I get it? I don’t know. I’m glad there is room on this stone to sit a while.

Blogging is fun. It is like I have become a character in my own life. I have been writing as I learn things, and as I feel they are interesting for someone else. Eric and I have had so many good changes lately; my psyche has had trouble organizing all of it. But here goes…
If you have read the past few entries, you can see me battling some emotions that seemed to plague me. Actually I’ll share a poem I wrote once about how it felt (sadly, way too many years ago).

Malaise- My plague

> Dissatisfaction settles in,

> A plague descending,

> Attacking first at surface level-

> Then deeper into

> Consciousness,

> Into common sense.

> It alters deliberate

> Faith decisions,

> Once concrete,

> Now questioned-challenged,

> Nearly conquered.

> Like the plague of total darkness

> Cutting off all celestial light

> Worse than teeming pests

> Than drought or famine,

> It is internal-unmanageable,

> Solution-less, feared by all.

> Malaise- my plague.

That says it all. I don’t feel that today. I actually don’t even recognize it. I was in such an altered state so far away from what God had for me. Now I see the word dissatisfaction and see truth…

God is changing my tastes. He is teaching me to break free of the lies that bound me up, against my will, and to bind to his Word. It is amazing. I know depression is serious, and I can speak for no one but me, but he is freeing me from all the things that kept me slave to my emotions, just like I asked him to. It took time (lots of time) for me to recognize my part in it all, and to be mature enough to trust him. I think that was the clincher, the hinge pin, the ticket. Whatever those metaphors mean.

God is changing my tastes. He is giving me the desires of my heart. He is teaching me to love the things he created, his plan for me, his approval of me, his design for my body and life, and his hope for my future.

He is showing me how the “world” has all kinds of choices that can replace his good gifts.

Instead of his good creation, I chose man-made, man-altered, food and drinks that we all think twice about, but go after anyway. I finally woke up and realized I was literally buying lies. That food was deceiving me and making me sick.

“When you sit down to dine with a ruler, note well what is before you, and put a knife to your throat if you are given to gluttony. Do not crave his delicacies, FOR THAT FOOD IS DECEPTIVE.” Proverbs 23:1-3

“As for you, you were dead in your transgressions and sins, in which you used to live when you followed the ways of this world and of the ruler of the kingdom of the air, the spirit who is now at work in those who are disobedient. All of us also lived among them at one time, GRATIFYING THE CRAVINGS OF OUR SINFUL NATURE AND FOLLOWING ITS DESIRES AND THOUGHTS. Like the rest, we were by nature objects of wrath. But because of his great love for us, God, who is rich in mercy, made us alive with Christ even when we were dead in transgressions—it is by grace you have been saved.” Ephesians 2:1-5

As I type, I am incensed at the realization that people certainly are “destroyed for lack of knowledge.” I was destroyed. Ask my husband. I never stopped to think that the choices I was making might have something to do with how I felt. It did.

God has freed me from an addiction to sugar and unhealthy foods that caused me to be sick physically and emtionally.

You may have read another article where I wrestled with seeking others approval. “Am I now trying to win the approval of men, or of God? Or am I trying to please men? If I were still trying to please men, then I would not be a servant of Christ.” Galatians 1:10

I was addicted to the approval of others. I am learning to look to God for identity, love, affirmation and praise. I knew this was the way to live. I just didn’t do it. Of course, encouragement from others will always be good, but I cannot live for it. I cannot work for it. I cannot earn it. God loves me without reason. He just loves me. Consider the emotions bound up in always waiting for someone’s approval.

God has freed me from an addiction to the approval of others.

The last thing that I was addicted to, that caused me emotional pain, was my own negativity. I am at the front end of learning this one. This verse is out of context, but the truth is the same, “For as he thinketh in his heart, so is he.” KJV Proverbs 23:7. It is the same passage warning against gluttony over a king’s food, and is describing the thoughts of the evil man who sells you food and drink, but doesn’t care about what he is giving you, “only thinking of the cost” it says in the NIV. Interesting connection…

I am seeing that God has a plan for how I think. I create my emotions by believing negative lies. “I will never get better, I’m not good enough, they don’t like me, I can’t handle it. Thinking I can’t handle things is the worst one, because I know God’s truth. He will not give me more that I can handle. He is my stronghold. I can do all things in Christ. He leads me. He is before and behind me. I need to tear down the lies in inside my always-worrying way-too-imaginative brain, and put up God’s truth.

I think of the Promised Land. Flowing with milk and honey. Before, it just seemed like a really messy river, sticky and coagulated. But now, that I am drinking milk barely touched by man and using honey (in moderation, Proverbs 25:27), I see how good they are. Organic milk tastes so, real! I read yesterday that a land flowing with milk and honey would mean verdant hills and flowering trees, with plenty of food for the goats and cows, and pollen for the bees. Flowering trees means delicious fruits and nuts and berries, and plants mean sweet and luscious vegetables. When you are addicted to pancakes, all that promised food seems lame. But under God’s good plan, it is sounds amazing. I know it can all be a metaphor for the good, spiritual things of God that we are denying and have no idea what we are missing or being lied to about. We hardly give it a moment’s thought that our disobedience has consequences. Real consequences. Not just ulcers or depression or fear, but the whole Promised Land.

There is something to be said for living an obedient life. I am not sure what it is about the word “obey.” It seems harsh at first, like I am being deprived of choices, like I am not free and in control. I have seen more than one bride on Funniest Home Videos stop dead in her vows when the preacher says, “to love and obey.” I guess she hadn’t been listening at rehearsal, and now in front of God and everyone she has to vow to obey the man next to her. With a guilty laugh I think of all the thoughts running through her head. “Obey this guy? If it weren’t for me he wouldn’t have gotten his tux rented in time, wouldn’t have remembered to pay the caterer, wouldn’t have cleaned his apartment, ever!”

I have had some of the same thoughts lately about God. Of course he cannot be doubted for shortcomings like forgetfulness or being messy. He is God. He knows everything and planned everything and controls everything. The funny thing about that is he doesn’t control me. He asks me to obey his instructions. Why is it so easy to let my mind question him? Does he know what it is like to live here on earth in 2005? Does he realize that it is dangerous to reach out in love to strangers? Does he know that it is nearly impossible to see past our culture into the good, true things? Does he realize that giving things away seems crazy when the economy looks grim? Doesn’t he see that all he asks me is the opposite of what the majority says is right?

He knows. Of course he knows!

> “Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good? But even if you should suffer for what is right, you are blessed. ‘Do not fear what they fear; do not be frightened.’” 1 Peter 3:13-14

> “He who obeys instruction guards his life.” Proverbs 19:16

> “God’s elect…have been chosen according to the foreknowledge of God the Father, through the sanctifying work of the Spirit, for obedience to Jesus Christ.” 1 Peter 1:1-2

> “As obedient children, do not conform to the evil desires you had when you lived in ignorance.” 1 Peter 1:14

> “You were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your forefathers.” 1 Peter 1:18b

This theme of obedience had manifested itself in an interesting way for me. I have been in prayer and struggle (more struggle than prayer probably) over some health issues for what seems like forever. I have gained some knowledge (freeing me from the ignorance mentioned in 1 Peter 1:14) that has helped me to understand the part that food plays in my health. So…that means I need to seek better food. How hard is that? Well it turns out that it is possible but not easy. They don’t sell fruit and veggies at the corner gas station. They hardly sell what I need in Columbus at all. Plus I love cake. And sugar. And Sprite. And Cheeze-Its. I could eat a whole box of Cheeze-Its.

The paradox of this particular life change is in the man-made verses God-made food. He wants me to choose God-made food. But I am enticed and addicted to man-made food.

What has helped me so far (other than being sick from a fried food dinner, post-knowledge if you must know), is that I am sure what God presents me is truth, and what the world presents me is a lie. Sugar may entice me and coerce me and taste good, but wow does it let me down. That is something God would never do.

He has redeemed us from the “empty way of life handed down to us.” It is empty, no matter how full it looks. It is empty. And I will be empty too, in the end, if I do not obey.

It is like me to see a change in my diet as suffering. It feels like that to me. A change in anything can feel like suffering. God knows that. But if I trust and obey, I know can find healing and freedom and salvation from so many things.

Read the Contemporary English Version of 1 Peter 4:1-2:

> “Christ suffered here on earth. Now you must be ready to suffer as he did, because suffering shows that you have stopped sinning. It means you have turned from your own desires and want to obey God for the rest of your life.”

It is funny; the Amplified Version uses the words “human appetites” along with “desires.” Sometimes I have to chuckle at God’s amazing provision for my needs, including this verse on this day in July when I am already reading 1 Peter, already seeking to change my appetites, in this century when we have the Amplified Version and an internet to search for it. Never underestimate how God will bend the cosmos for you.

Here at the lake it is calm and easy. I slide into the laid back lifestyle without hesitation.
In my mind, when things are tense during normal life, I think of the lake. As I mentally
walk down the aluminum steps to the beach, I breathe easier each time my foot hits the
next level. Down, down, down into relaxation. When I am really here, it is almost too
much. I am overwhelmed with the sensations. Robert James Waller would say that
analyzing the parts of the experience would take away the romance. I agree. There may
be obvious reasons the lake is therapeutic for me, some not so obvious. I choose to just
know what I feel. I feel good here.

We drive out into the town and I am again on edge, like just seeing the real world beams
me back to reality. What is this beast I fight against? It claws and bites at my dignity, my
ability to hold it together, to be civil and mature. It twists my emotional arm until it
burns. I want to cry uncle.

As I sat on the beach this morning, early, in the cool of the dawn, I found the place in my
Bible where I ended reading yesterday. (I use removable page markers. It helps so much
to remember where I left off reading.) God met me where I was. I was at Lake Michigan
in Hebrews chapter 12.

> ” Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set
before him endured the cross, scorning it’s shame, and sat down at the right hand of the
throne of God. Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you
will not grow weary and lose heart.

> “In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your
blood. And you have forgotten that word of encouragement that addresses you as sons:
‘My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when he
rebukes you, because the Lord disciplines those the loves, and he punishes everyone he
accepts as a son.’ Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as sons (Hebrews
12:2-7).

>”God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems
pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness
and peace for those who have been trained by it. Therefore, strengthen your feeble arms
and weak knees. Make level paths for your feet, so that the lame may not be disabled, but
rather healed. (Hebrews 12:10b-13).”

The bold face ideas for me today were these; consider Christ so you will not lose heart,
this struggle produces a harvest of righteousness and peace, and make level paths for
your feet.

I need to consider that Christ also endured under pain. He was here on Earth serving God
and man, never sinning. Even he endured pain and struggle for the joy set before him. His
example and testimony of suffering helps me to endure bravely, purposefully, and
without losing heart.

The idea of a harvest of peace cuts to the core of me. The metaphor of a harvest has been
at the forefront in my mind. I was reading in Proverbs the other day and came across the
following:

> “Where there are no oxen, the manger is empty, but from the strength of an ox comes
an abundant harvest (Proverbs 14:4).”

I have been pondering this for a few days because of the words “strength” and “harvest”.
I have had them both on my mind lately and am gleeful to once again see scripture
explain itself. Seek and you shall find.

I am encouraged to continue in strength. I am saddened by the thought that the manger is
empty without strength, because we all know what goes in the manger besides wheat.
Baby Jesus. The manger is that common object that day after day, year after year, holds
abundance from hard work in the field. The harvest of peace in my soul that comes from
enduring discipline. The harvest of Jesus in the souls of my fellow man, that comes from
my willingness to continue on in service and strength.

Therefore, I will obey, and strengthen my weak knees. My wobbly, trembling, tired
knees. I take encouragement from the exhortation that ended my scripture reading, quoted
from Proverbs by the writer of Hebrews, to make level paths for your feet so that you can
be healed.

I am not sure how I can “make level paths.” Maybe it means to take the easy way for
now, that I need to find a path where I won’t fall while I am weak. I need to find a daily
routine that is paved and without unnecessary obstacles while I focus on getting back to
center. It is not God’s desire that we be “disabled” by struggle, but that we be healed.
Also, it is his will that we become an instrument of healing, not remaining paralyzed by
the pain.