Hold my heart

A lot of people told me this year would be better.  Well-meaning, caring people who believed and hoped for that ... as did I.  Here we are in July, and I lost my precious mother last week, watched and have helped care for my dad as he recovers from the extensive cancer surgery he had two days after Mama broke her earthly shackles for an eternity with her Savior.  Better?  Would you believe me if I said yes?  Heartbreaking, devastating, surreal, exhausting from every possible standpoint - all true.  The absence of joy and hope - absolutely not.

The real question is do those of us who profess to follow Christ acknowledge him with our words only and deny him by our lifestyles, or do we cling to the hope that we have been promised?  When I was young, my mom would often sing an old hymn about our true home:

This world is not my home, I'm just a passing through 

My treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue.  

The angels beckon me from heaven's open door,

And I can't feel at home in this world anymore.

~This World Is Not My Home, by Albert Brumley, 1937. 

In the midst of the storms, through the seemingly endless desert, when the flood waters threaten to drown or the fires overtake us - do we live what we believe?  Do we actually even believe the promises of God, the one who created and formed us and called us by name?  He tells us unequivocally to "Fear not," and "When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you."  Isaiah 43:1-2.   In the long healing process after my miscarriage, there came a point where God pointedly pressed in on my heart the following question: "Do you want to be like Job, who even after I allowed Satan to take everything from him still worshiped me, or like Job's wife, who told Job to curse my name and die?"  My husband often calls these "Hey, stupid!" moments where God is smacking him "upside the head."  And yes, I do have those moments, but God was so gentle and gracious when putting this question before me.

The past few years, and especially the last year that almost defies imagination (at least in my limited imagination), have ignited a passion for understanding what it means to be blessed.   Whether we are professing Christians or not, we all want to be blessed.  At least, I think so, since I can't recall anyone saying "Curse me, please!"  lately - or ever.  That said, there is a frightening amount of confusion, bad theology, wishful thinking, etc., regarding what it means to be truly blessed.  If you're thinking that means life will be easy, everything will turn out just like planned, there will be no hardships, trials, pain, suffering, etc., then first of all I would desperately want to know what planet you're living on, because that has never, ever been the case here on Earth.  At least not since perfection was shattered in the Garden of Eden, the world was fractured and all of creation has subsequently been groaning under the weight.  Second, and applicable only to believers in Jesus, is the question of where that idea came from, as it most assuredly did not come from Jesus when he took on human form and walked this earth to be our substitute and become our righteousness.  He did not say, "If you have trouble," or "You might have a few bumps in the road."  In a lengthy conversation with his disciples in John 16, Jesus told them of the sorrow they would endure that would turn to joy, and in verse 33 said, "I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace.  In the world you will have tribulation.  But take heart; I have overcome the world."

Not "might have," but you WILL.  And in all honesty, tribulation, suffering, the feeling of persecution (or actual persecution) is far from enjoyable, and pretending that everything is okay and "happy, happy, joy, joy" comes off as infinitely fake and insincere.  Mama left this earth on what would have our baby's due date.  There is both joy and sorrow in knowing that - renewed sorrow for the babies I will never hold in my arms this side of eternity and incredible joy knowing that my mother is holding her grandchildren; deep sorrow every time the thought springs up, usually unbidden, that never again on this earth will I see my mother's beautiful face or her welcoming smile, or feel her arms around me  - the arms that made me feel so understood, loved and accepted.  But there is incredible joy knowing that she is dancing in heaven with her sisters and the other saints who have gone before her, at the feet of the Jesus she loved and followed so faithfully, and that she is no longer limited or restrained by physical pain and disease.  There is joy in the encouragement and love poured out from so many family members and friends and the steadfast love of my husband, the memories that they have of her, and the hope we share knowing that we will be united again in a new heaven and new earth, free from sin, free from tears of sorrow, heartache, disease and suffering.   And as my dad heads down the road of chemotherapy and radiation, along with the emotional healing from losing his wife of over 40 years, there is joy in loving him and letting him know that he is not alone - not by a long shot.

People have asked from time to time how I am "so strong."  There is a very, very simple answer: I am not strong, not in the least.  And though I decided a long time ago to follow Jesus, he has allowed suffering into my life to prune me and mold me - to detach my hands from the things of this world and attach my hands to Himself - and it is the most amazing thing to discover as another trial looms that falling into his strong and loving arms has become a reflex rather than a last resort.  The funny and frustrating thing about pruning and molding is that they are processes.  There is nothing instantaneous about the process - in fact, even today I found myself teetering on the edge of despair after receiving a spiteful and hurtful message from someone who has experienced suffering and was lashing out at me, much like a wounded animal tends to do.  Did it wound me?  Absolutely.  Did it make me angry?  Unfortunately, yes, especially the untrue statements that were made.  Did God waste any time "smacking me upside the head?"  Ummm, no.

Back when God so gently asked me about being like Job or Job's wife, my response was ultimately that of Job's:  "Naked I came from my mother's womb, and naked shall I return.  The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."  Job 1:21. So what to do when I feel "persecuted" or wrongly accused, or when my heart feels like it is breaking into pieces all over again because I miss my Mama so much, or when I see my dad in the hospital bed and know that he is in for a hard and painful battle ...  well, often times, I mess it up and my response (at least inwardly, if not outwardly) is anything but God-honoring.  But usually the next step is to preach the Gospel to myself, and that step is getting easier to remember.  Jesus has paid it all - the other person's sin and my sin in getting angry, along with thousands of my other sins.  Remind myself that God gave me an incredible mother who, while not perfect, continually pointed me and so many others to Christ - I had her for 37 years, almost exactly.  She was and is His daughter, and though she was a gift to me in ways that I now only realize in part, she is exactly where she has longed to be.  The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away - blessed be the name of the Lord.  There is nothing - and I do mean nothing - that does not pass through His hand; and everything that God allows into my life is for my ultimate good and for His glory.  And I remember that when I am weak, that is when I am truly strong.  As Paul said after struggling with the thorn in his flesh, "a messenger of Satan" sent to harass him and keep him from being conceited, and after pleading with God to remove the thorn:  "But he said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.' Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me." II Corinthians 12:9.

I didn't realize, probably because my mother didn't know or sing this verse, that verse three of the hymn goes like this:

I have a precious mother up in glory land,

I don't expect to stop until I clasp her hand;

For me she's waiting now at heaven's open door,

And I can't feel at home in this world anymore.

But I do know the refrain:  "O Lord, I know, I have no friend like you."  And with God's grace, mercy and love, it will be my refrain for all my days on this earth until I meet Jesus face to face.  In the meantime, that oh-so-hard-and-painful-in-the-meantime ... the maker of my soul is the one who holds my heart.

Blessed.  Oh, so blessed.