HE KNOWS MY NAME

...he calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. John 10:3

Steve did not feel well when we went to bed last Friday evening, and he felt progressively worse as the night hours dragged by. By 1:30 Saturday morning, he was experiencing severe indigestion, pressure in his chest, numbness in his left arm and jaw, dizziness, and ringing in his ears. Fearing a heart attack, we headed for our local emergency room.

You can imagine the grim thoughts that haunted my mind while we were at the ER. Was this really a heart attack? Did we get medical attention in time to avert serious permanent damage? What would the doctor advise us to do next - medication, changes in diet, surgery? How much would all of this end up costing? Already just barely getting by financially, how would we ever pay off huge hospital bills? If this episode was stress induced, then it seemed like growing medical expenses would only add to Steve's stress and exacerbate the problem, thus creating a Catch 22. Worse yet, what if Steve's condition was beyond treatment and the doctor gave us no prognosis for recovery? There was a sinister spectre indeed!

Needless to say, that night in the ER was l-o-n-g, tense, and emotional. Thankfully, the ER staff were able, over a period of several hours, to bring Steve's blood pressure down to a "safe" level and he began to feel much better. Not wanting to amass additional medical bills, Steve over-rode the ER doctor's advice to be admitted for further testing. We finally headed home at about 8:00 a.m., unnerved and exhausted, armed with several prescriptions and instructions to see a cardiologist as soon as possible.

Steve still felt pretty bad and needed rest. After getting him situated at home, I gave the kids an abbreviated explanation of the night's events and instructions to call immediately "if anthing happens" - then headed back to Union City to fill the prescriptions and to give a (hopefully) short devotional at a baby shower. No sleep. No opportunity to emotionally decompress. No time to shift from "holding myself together" while feeling like my own heart was breaking - to having to minister to others in the joyous context of celebrating the life of a new child.

Running on adrenaline and auto-pilot, I shuffled into the church building looking undoubtedly like Zombie woman. Pulling out the devotional notes I had prepared earlier in the week, I explained to the cheerful gathering of women that I felt a bit tired and emotional, without divulging the reason why. I prayed that God would sanctify my words and use them to minister to the women present, especially the mom-to-be. And then something bizarre, something so amazing happened - God spoke to me through a devotional on motherhood that I had studied for and prepared many days earlier. Here are a few excerpts from my notes that morning:

Our ultimate purpose is not to raise perfect children or to have an idyllic family life or to pursue personal promotion or contentment. Our ultimate purpose - the reason we were created - is to glorify God. Embracing God's glory as our reason for being will translate into joyful obedience as we endeavor to complete the work He assigns us....

This is not an easy assignment (mothering) ....we need supernatural power for this work. What is our Power Source? God loves us - we are the object of God's amazing grace! (1 John 3:1, Rom. 8:35) God protects us - He is Sovereign over everything and works everythng to our good and His glory. (Romans 8:28) God's Spirit dwells in us and helps us in our weakness. (Romans 8:26) Christ Himself is interceding for us....

Our security and significance are grounded in Christ....this frees us and empowers us to pursue God's glory. Realizing that God's glory is our purpose gives us tremendous stability in the face of emotional extremes, difficult circumstances, and the chaos of childrearing (how about medical emergencies?!)....

...(In parenting), use "hard times" as opportunities for prayer and praise - defy the devil. Develop a habit of thankfulness; use difficulties to consciously identify with Christ's sacrifice and suffering. (2 Cor. 12:9 - '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.)

The last thing written in my notes was to pray for Kerri (our expectant mother) by name, using Ephesians 3:14-21. My lips said "Kerri", but my heart knew that God intended this particular prayer, at this particular moment, for Camille, too.

For this reason I bow my knees before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth is named, that according to the riches of his glory he may grant you, Kerri (Camille), to be strengthened with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your heart through faith - that you, Kerri (Camille), being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God. Now to him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us, to him be glory....

I walked into that baby shower feeling weary, frightened, and on the verge of falling apart. God met me there and reassured me of His love for me and His sovereignty over the events of this life. He led me from a place of dark shadows and into His light. He has called me by name - Camille - and I am His.

DESTINATION WEDDING

Destination wedding. Marry-me-away. The young couple invites family and a few close friends to join them at a far-away location to witness their marriage vows. Maybe the wedding is on a secluded beach in Florida, or at a historic site in the Appalachain mountains. One mother-of-the-bride related how this made the whole process so much easier: "The (Florida) resort took care of everything - the flowers, the food, even the preacher. All we had to do was show up!" A young bride told me how romantic it was to be married on the same beach where, only a year earlier, she had met her future husband during a spring break holiday. Despite the increasing popularity of the "destination wedding" trend, I have to admit that my initial reaction to the phenomenon was negative. I didn't really understand why I had these negative feelings until recently, when I experienced a very different sort of wedding.


When Emily and Dennis sat down to begin working out the details of their wedding, one question dominated their decision-making process: "How can we effectively communicate the love of Christ for His church through our marriage ceremony?" Scripture, music, decorations, attendants....all were chosen with this thought in mind. More than one well-meaning friend told Emily, "This is your day. It's all about you!" They had no idea their "encouragement" was more prone to cause anxiety than enthusiasm, given Emily's quiet, private nature. It was pondering such comments that led me to understand my initial reaction to the idea of the "destination" wedding.


"It's all about you!" is a lie, and one that too many young daughters of the church have bought into. A wedding is NOT all about the bride, or her lover, or their romance, or the dress, or roses and candlelight, or favorite pop tunes,.....all of those things rolled into one ball would make only a single word in the wedding song, a song begun in eternity past and continuing into eternity future. The marriage of believers is about Christ and His bride - sort of a little snapshot for us while we are earthbound, to give us hope and to whet our appetites for the Wedding to come.


The Friday morning before the wedding, the church fellowship hall was abuzz with excitement and activity. Helen, Carol, and Reni - dear sisters in Christ -and Emily's little sister Martha chatted as they sorted greenery and wired rose stems. "Do you think I should use ivy or rose leaves for the boutonnieres?" "Help me make Emily's bouquet. Hold these stems very tightly while I tape them together." "Ooooh, the ribbon is a nice touch!" Helen made a lovely arrangement for the sanctuary altar - roses, Queen-Anne's lace that brother Reuben had cut from the hayfield that morning, sweet-breath-of-spring given by friend Donna, greenery from Helen's and Carol's yards. A piece of Helen, a piece of Carol, a piece of Donna....beloved friends were knitting themselves with joyful anticipation into the fabric of the upcoming wedding.


That afternoon, food began arriving. Reni brought beautiful Greek wedding cookies; Susanne made crunchy German nut corners; Alix added rich baklava; Grammy roasted pecans that had been gathered on the Kendall farm. Cousin Jo delivered the wedding cake, one of her yummy chocolate and red velvet creations. Decorating the fellowship hall for the next day's reception was another happy collaboration. "The tulle on the tables isn't working - just not quite right." "What if we scatter red rose petals around the base of the candles?" "I really like that - very simple and elegant. Very Emily."


The BIG DAY finally arrived. Teresa and Katherine and Suzanne and Shannon and others commandeered the kitchen, tending to last-minute preparations for the reception. Their loving service ensured that this mother-of-the-bride had not a moment's anxiety about a single detail. I was blessed to spend the morning with Emily, her precious friend Jenn, and Em's two younger sisters. We cinched and smoothed and combed and patted.....and hugged and cried (only a little!) and prayed and laughed, while a steady stream of friends and family popped into the bride's room to join the festivities for a few minutes before slipping out again.

Andrew, a friend from college, played beautiful music on the piano in the church sanctuary as guests began arriving. Michelle, another friend of the young couple, directed the brothers who served as ushers. Matt, who had traveled with Emily and Dennis to Germany two years earlier - before they were a "couple," stood armed with a camera, ready to document the occasion. Young Elizabeth sang about the love of God in an elven voice, while the wedding party lined up at the back of the sanctuary.

As we waited our cue to enter, I scanned the crowd of seated guests. There was the minister who baptized Emily, and his wife, my "mother in the faith." The pastor who had faithfully preached the gospel into Emily's life throughout her childhood, and the young campus minister who had so recently invested in her faith. The young woman who had mentored and gently counseled Emily through a difficult period during her teen years, and the older woman who loved Emily like her own daughter. The beautiful family that was now becoming a part of our own. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, out-laws, and a host of dear, dear friends. All waiting expectantly, eagerly, almost on the edge of their seats. "Emily," I whispered, "this room is so FULL OF LOVE." Full of love for Emily and Dennis, yes - but also, so heavy that it was almost palpable, the love of God for His children, the love of Christ for His church, and the love of His people for their Savior. This was a special occasion for Emily and Dennis, but it was also a celebration of anticipation for the body of Christ who had gathered to witness their vows.

Let us rejoice and be glad and give HIM glory! For the marriage of the LAMB is come, and HIS bride has made herself ready. - Revelation 19:7 (printed on the front of Emily and Dennis's wedding program)

The congregation stood and sang: "The love of Christ is rich and free, fixed on His own eternally; nor earth nor hell can it remove; long as He lives, His own He'll love. His loving heart engaged to be their everlasting Surety; 't was love that took their cause in hand, and love maintains it to the end. Love cannot from its post withdraw; nor death, nor hell, nor sin, nor law can turn the Surety's heart away; He'll love His own to endless day. Love has redeemed His sheep with blood; and love will bring them safe to God...." (The Love of Christ is Rich and Free, words by William Gadsby)

Singing with an overflowing heart, I realized in a powerful way that as believers in Christ we are all getting ready for a wedding, The Wedding, even in the mundane and seemingly insignificant details of our lives. Helen and Carol made boutonnieres and bouquets - and Jenny is raising children who love Jesus. Katherine brewed coffee and Shannon mixed gallons of punch for the reception - and Reuben shares his faith with his classmates and professors on campus. Gerald mowed and trimmed the church yard especially for the wedding - Nate is reading through his Bible and Thomas is learning to serve others. The list goes on and on and on .......but not forever! For there will come a day when all the preparations will cease, and the radiant Bride will stand before her Beloved.

I commented to my friend Larry at the reception, "That was the rehearsal - now I'm ready for the real wedding!" Several other people I talked to that afternoon expressed the same sentiment. Our appetites had been whetted, our eyes raised to heaven, and we were longing to be with our Husband. By God's grace and guidance, Emily and Dennis gathered the church around them and pointed us to Glory. I am so grateful for the glimpse "behind the veil" that their wedding ceremony afforded.

For now we see as in a mirror dimly;

but then face to face.

1 Corinthians 13:12

(printed on the back of the

wedding program)

SIMPLE PLEASURES

(It has been so long since I last posted that I had difficulty remembering my password to log in - this simply has to change!)

While life here in Kendallville is very definitely good, it is by no means easy. I often find myself battling against a tendency to focus on life's difficulties, to wallow in negativity or self-pity....seems I am too frequently having to repent of the sin of grumbling. I find that I have to battle discontentment with very deliberate and focused counter-measures.

One frustration I've wrestled with over and over since our move relates to the seeming impossibility of my getting exercise on a regular basis. At our last house, we lived one mile from the local YMCA. I could pop over to the Y, swim a mile, shower, dress, and return home recharged and ready for whatever came next - all in less than an hour. Now, living out in the Boondocks, I have no Y, no fitness center, not even a walking trail. I'm getting fatter every day, and my energy level is at an all-time low - who wouldn't complain about such an untenable situation? Oh, how I have missed my thrice-weekly swims!

The words of a wise friend, spoken years ago, came to mind recently. Katherine once told me, during a discussion about how much exercise was necessary to be effective for good health: "You don't have to exercise every day. You don't even have to exercise three times a week. You only have to exercise once - and that is today, if you're able." Remembering her words, I resolved to take them to heart anew. Okay, I can't swim laps, my all-time favorite way of "working out." There's not an elliptical walker or a universal weight machine for miles. But it occurred to me one sunny afternoon about a month ago that "Today, I can take the dogs for a walk back on the farm." And so I did just that. And now, more days than not, you'll find me taking OB and Jesse for a walk back on the farm, sometime shortly after noon. (For an explanation of just why farm dogs have to be "walked," see earlier post - A DOG TALE, 11/19/08.)

Actually, it would be more appropriate to say the dogs take me for a walk. I commented to a friend recently that my new fitness program is called "Fat Lady Dragging at the End of a Dog Leash." OB weighs 64 pounds, and he is all muscle and all forward motion. How on earth can a 64-pound dog possibly pull a *@#! - pound woman up a 45 degree incline? Beats me. Suffice to say, my arms get as much of a workout as my legs! And, this "fitness program" seems to be working - I've lost five pounds since we began our "program," and I'm less winded on our long walks than when we began.

So what does my almost-daily drag with the dogs have to do with my anti-grumbling campaign? There is a long field waaaaay back on the furthest side of the farm - we call it "the back hay field," although we no longer cut it for hay. It's just a long strip of lush pasture, bordered on one side by the creek and on the other by hills rising up into woodlands. One day last week, I took the dogs out for a drag. I was grumbling to myself because I'd had to wait so late in the day for our walk, going out in the evening instead of the afternoon. I was grumbling to myself because OB had bolted across the creek and drug me through water that came over my shoes and soaked my socks. I was grumbling to myself because I had walked through a spider web (blech!) as I pushed through the cane thicket lining the creek bed. Finally, we emerged from the creek, into the back hay field. Because it was later in the day - very near sundown - the air in the bottomland was noticeably cooler than the air out in the open fields. A shiver tickled my spine. Then, an amazing aroma filled my nostrils...what on earth was perfuming the air so sweetly?! As we waded through thigh-high grass to the far side of the narrow field, I saw the answer to my question. Wild roses - mounds and mounds of wild roses - were blooming all along the hillside leading up to the woods. And all their scent was bottled up in the cool air settling in the little valley in which the dogs and I were walking. It was one of those rare fairy moments - I just had to stop and breathe, and breathe, and breathe in the sweet perfume.

Standing there gulping in the fragrant air, I realized that I could savor the moment - or I could continue with my previous grumbling and miss the magic altogether. I resolved to savor the moment. This is a wonderful place to be, I thought, and I'm so grateful to be right here, right now. My socks were soggy with brown creek water, and my hair was sticky with yucky spider goo - but the roses...the roses were amazing.

No, I cannot swim a mile three times this week - but today I can finagle 45 minutes to go for a drag with the dogs. And today, I will find something beautiful to be grateful for and to enjoy. Maybe my grumbling - like my excuses for not exercising - will fade away as I endeavor to savor the very simple pleasures that God has given me in this moment.

A BOY AND HIS COW

There's nothing like the love between a boy and his....cow? This picture shows Nate with his "baby," Weezy. Weezy's mother died a few weeks after giving birth, and Nate adopted the sweet brown calf as his own. For several months, Nate bought and mixed calf milk replacement, trudging out to the barn in all kinds of weather to feed his charge every couple of hours. Of course, Weezy fell in love with her new mother and food source. Now, two years later, she still comes trotting across the field when she spies Nate out on the farm, eager for a good scratching and a snuggle from her favorite boy.

After these pictures were taken, several "special" cows from my own childhood came to mind. My favorite, hands down, was the family milk cow Ruthie, a Brown Swiss/Jersey cross with huge brown eyes and a disposition as sweet as honey. Standing only waist high to my dad, Ruthie was the perfect size cow to appeal to children. Her coat looked and felt like brown velvet, and she never seemed to mind the eager attention we kids lavished on her. Mom would let Ruthie's milk sit in the refrigerator for a day in a plastic gallon bucket, to allow the cream to rise to the top. When Mom would go to skim the cream, the bucket would be half full of cream, half full of milk. We had lots of home-made butter and the best ice cream I've ever tasted when Ruthie was with us.

Then there was Friendly Fred, a Longhorn bull the size of a locomotive. Honestly, I think this red-and-white spotted behemoth weighed well over a ton. Fred had impressive horns curving out from his enormous skull, each as long as my outstretched arm. For all his fearsome appearance, Fred was about as tame as a dog. I can remember Fred lolling in the shade of an ancient beech tree out behind the chicken house, surveying the herd of beef cows under his charge - I had no qualms about walking right up to him and scratching his long, rounded back. Of course, I didn't want to be in the way if he decided to swing his head around at a bothersome fly!

Early one spring, we had a very hard freeze right when the cows were calving. An unfortunate bull calf dropped on a bitterly cold night, and Dad didn't want to leave him out exposed to the extreme cold. Dad loaded the little fellow up into the Jeep, drove him home, and carried him into the house for a little TLC. Now it just so happened that at this particular time in the Stricklin cattle program, Dad had a Brahma bull in with the Angus cows - I think the offspring were christened "Brangus." This little bull calf looked extraordinarily like his father: long, drooping Brahma ears, a tiny hint of a hump about his shoulders, a mouse-colored coat as soft as silk, and huge glowing eyes the color of dark chocolate. Dad administered his special treatment - a mixture of whiskey, honey, and colostrum - and then bundled the little fellow up in a pile of blankets in the laundry room. By the next morning, "Mohandas" was up rollicking about the laundry room, making a tremendous mess of everything. Of course, all of us kids fell hopelessly in love with this delicious bit of cow-dom, and Mohandas became a family favorite - was even spared the normal fate of bull calves, and enjoyed a long and comfortable life following in his father's footsteps, so to speak. (By the way, Dad's "special treatment" for us kids, whenever we had a cold or congestion, was about the same recipe - whiskey, honey, lemon juice, and hot water. Blech! We thought it tasted awful, but it really did seem to help.)

Seeing my kids making bovine friends among Granddad's herd has sent me on a journey down memory lane. When my boys and girls come in talking excitedly about Clovis or Nike or Good-Momma-Cow, I smile at the thought of another young girl who loved Ada and Bessie and countless others of the family herd, many years ago. And when I'm out walking in the fields, nothing brightens my day like the sight of Weezy trotting over to say "hello," and nuzzling up for a neck rub.

WITH JESUS IN THE DOJO

I feel so "cool" - I actually know what a dojo is! (That's only because I have three college-aged kids taking shotokan karate with Sensei Hammond...my kids are teaching me so much.) When he is home from school on the weekends, Reuben enjoys demonstrating new blocks, kicks, and punches to his younger brothers. I am amazed at the strength, balance, and focus that karate develops - and demands.

Last night at Grace, Justin Westmoreland (the RUF minister at UT Martin) preached on Genesis 32:22-32. Here we find Jacob sitting alone in the dark, distressed about an upcoming meeting with a brother he had swindled years earlier, when suddenly he is ambushed by an unknown attacker. What can we learn from this cosmic wrestling match between Jacob and his Creator? Justin made several excellent points during last night's sermon, but I want to share a couple in particular with my blog friends.

First, Justin went into graphic detail about what wrestling actually entails - this is a close-contact, down-and-dirty, physical engagement. As Justin so vividly put it, "When you wrestle with someone, you get their stink all over you." Blech. (Okay, Justin, the reference to dripping sweat and hairy armpits were almost over-the-top for me!) In Genesis 32 we find Jacob wrestling with God, and it's no quick match - the two wrestle all night long. Could God have ended the match sooner? Absolutely. We find that at daybreak, when God is ready to put an end to the struggle, He does so with a single blow to Jacob's hip. But God allowed the wrestling to continue throughout the night because He loved Jacob and had some very important things to teach him. As day breaks, Jacob confesses his sinfulness to his opponent. "What is your name?" the mystery assailant asks. Jacob answers, "Jacob" - or, more explicitly, "I am a heel-grabber, a supplanter, a deceiver - the man who tricks and steals, even from his own brother." As sinners, and as descendents of Jacob, God wrestles each of us - for as long as it takes - to the very same place. The place where, if we're to have any rest, we must confess the truth about who we are. I loved how Justin emphasized that God wrestles us (which means He gets very, very close to us - this is an extremely personal contact sport), and that He's willing to get our stink all over Him (in the person of Christ), to bring us to the point of repentance and salvation. Jacob, the heel-grabber, became Israel that night - he who struggles with God and overcomes. Camille - the grumbler, the fault-finder, the one who is always looking out for her own interests - became The Redeemed, the beloved, a daughter of the High King.

Jacob realized this unbeatable opponent must be capable of bestowing a significant blessing - so he hung on and refused to let go, demanding a blessing first. As Jacob's great-great-great-grandchildren, we discover the same thing. We find ourselves in the dojo with Jesus, so to speak, struggling with our own sinfulness, kicking against a difficult truth in scripture, swinging violently sometimes at Christ's claims on our life. Like Jacob, we find that our opponent will not let us go, but perseveres tenaciously in the midst of our struggles. And like Jacob, we know there is a blessing to be gained at the end of a long, exhausting night, and we hold on. But here is one of the interesting points Justin made in his sermon - God not only blessed Jacob with a new name (one that would be a source of encouragement to all his descendents), but He also blessed Jacob with a permanent limp. Now, that sounds more like a severe disability to me than like a blessing. But consider this....from this moment on, Jacob would live with a very vivid reminder of his dependence on God. He could no longer connive and steal and fight to make things happen the way he wanted - he would ever after be completely reliant on God's promise and ability to provide for him and his family. As Justin commented, God will indeed bless us...but His blessings may not be what we anticipate. Some in Christian circles teach that this faith will bring with it health, ease of living, solutions to life's hard problems. Jacob learned that this faith brings with it a growing awareness of and dependence upon God's goodness, faithfulness, and love - in spite of our sinfulness, and sometimes through the very pains and trials that we would prefer to avoid.

In the dojo of this life, where we train strenuously for the life to come, it is good to know that we study under the watchful care and perfect wisdom of Sensei Jesus, the good teacher. And if we sometimes leave the mat limping, we can be confident that even the limp will be for our ultimate good and His glory.

APPROPRIATING GRACE

What do I believe in my head? What do I know in my heart? And how does any of what I believe work itself out through my fingers and my feet and my words? In the midst of some very difficult relationship issues, I find that I ask myself those three questions almost daily. A close friend and I find ourselves facing the complete breakdown of a many-years relationship, and, although we both value this messed-up relationship enough to cling together and try to see it through to a more glorious end, we also both find ourselves exhausted, frustrated, and woefully inadequate for the task at hand. So, what are my thoughts today - as I sit here with a broken heart and try to write? Well, for starters, there's nothing like a broken heart to peel away empty words and vain expressions of faith and expose instead what I truly believe. It's one thing to say "My hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteous" - but it's an entirely different matter to effectively appropriate the grace of the gospel of Christ to the bruised, bleeding, nearly pulse-less heart in my breast. And, oh, for the supernatural power to minister grace to my friend!

Jerry Bridges, in his book Transforming Grace, outlines four (really three) ways that believers tap into the grace which is theirs in Christ: reading and meditating on the Word of God, prayer, submitting humbly to God's will, and having friends who will remind and encourage us to read, pray, and submit.

Last night, as I lay grieving over this painful situation for the umpteenth time, I found myself engaged in a too-familiar mental monologue of despair. "There really is no hope for this relationship. I can't do anything to fix this, to make things better. Anything I say or do is always the wrong thing. I can't even trust my own motives. Doesn't scripture say that the heart - even my heart - is 'deceitful above all things and beyond cure'? I am so angry and hurt, but I know that 'man's anger does not bring about the righteous life that God desires.' There are things I need to say, but what are the right things? I have too often proven that 'Where many words are present, sin is not far off.' I am too broken, broken beyond repair - this is just all too messed up to be fixed." Like Jeremiah, I weep and cry out, "Is there no balm in Gilead?!"

But God was so good again last night, for the umpteenth time, as He brought to mind other verses. "God is greater than our hearts (even my broken, sinful heart), and He knows everything." - 1 John 3:20 And, "Heal me, O Lord, and I will be healed; save me, and I will be saved..." - from Jeremiah 17. And Paul, "I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us." On and on, the claims of scripture pressed upon me until my despair subsided enough so that I could rest.

And what about prayer? I seem to often find myself having the same internal battle when it comes to prayer. "God, I have come to you over and over and over again with this....and nothing changes. I do not see your hand working here. My faith is weak, and I am weary of coming." Or, "How misdirected my prayers have been before - I don't even know what to pray anymore, for I am certain I shall ask amiss." Or, "My concerns are of little consequence in the great eternal scheme of things - You would not be bothered with them, Lord." Then I remember that Christ Himself intercedes on my behalf. That He sanctifies all of me, even my twisted, stupid, off-mark prayers. That God in His word commands me to pray, and to pray continually. And so, I am compelled to pray. The practice of prayer, by its very nature, affirms the truth that God is, and that He hears, and that He cares - and so I am strengthened again for another step in this difficult labor of life.

Well, what about submitting? Oh, that I could submit easily, quietly, graciously, instead of with all this bawling and flailing! More grace, I need more grace! 1 Peter 5 says: "Humble yourselves, therefore, under God's mighty hand, that he may lift you up in due time. Cast all your anxiety on him because he cares for you. Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings. And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast." Suffering is temporary, conforms me in some way to Christ, is directed by my Father (He will "restore me" when the time is exactly right), and produces in me a longing for glory.

Meditating on the Word of God, praying, submitting,....does this faith have any real impact on my life? Well, the relationship issues mentioned above are still not resolved - everything is as messed up today as it was yesterday and the day before that and the day before that. And yet, the relationship is still not abandoned. And all hope is NOT lost. God is on His throne, and through His Word has assured me that, as Sheldon VanAucken put it, "all shall be very well."

COME, MY SOUL, THY SUIT PREPARE

This is one of my favorite hymns. The words of this hymn were composed by John Newton (1779), and have often encouraged me when my road has been difficult and my faith weak (see above post).

Come, my soul, thy suit prepare: Jesus loves to answer prayer;
he himself has bid thee pray, therefore will not say thee nay; therefore will not say thee nay.

Thou art coming to a King, large petitions with thee bring;
for his grace and pow'r are such, none can ever ask too much; none can ever ask too much.

With my burden I begin: Lord, remove this load of sin;
let thy blood, for sinners spilt, set my conscience free from guilt; set my conscience free from guilt.

Lord, I come to thee for rest, take possession of my breast;
there thy blood-bought right maintain, and without a rival reign; and without a rival reign.

While I am a pilgrim here, let thy love my spirit cheer;
as my Guide, my Guard, my Friend, lead me to my journey's end; lead me to my journey's end.

Show me what I have to do, ev'ry hour my strength renew:
let me live a life of faith, let me die thy people's death; let me die thy people's death.