Suffering – He Said What?!

Waiting Slow

This past Christmas, with all the craziness going on in our family surrounding our daughter and son-in-law’s move to our town, we had to delay our family Christmas until the middle of January. When we told Aaron that we would be having Christmas in January, he replied in his matter-of-fact way.

“But we open presents on December 25^th,” he stated.

“Well, yes, we usually do but this year no one will be here on that day,” I replied.

We had this conversation several times over the next few days. Finally, we came to a compromise. Aaron would open two presents on Christmas day and save the rest for our family celebration in January.

Christmas morning (the REAL Christmas morning) came. Aaron was very excited about opening his two gifts. Gary and I were relishing our slow, relaxed morning. However, Aaron was not on the same page as we were.

Finally, his patience was wearing thin. He told me to get ready so he could open his two Christmas presents. I told him to wait and not rush me.

“Mom!!” he said, “why do you want me to wait slow?!”

I’ve thought about his description of waiting slow. I think we all have situations in life that seem like they’re dragging on forever. Times that we seem stuck with no answers…no way out.

We wonder why God is silent…or at least He seems to be.

“God, I’ve prayed and prayed about this. Why do You want me to wait slow for Your answer?”

But sometimes the waiting slow IS God’s answer. For in the place of waiting, God has so much to teach us.

The Apostle Paul knew this truth. In his second letter to the Corinthian church, he told the believers there that he had been so burdened and afflicted that he despaired for his life. He was beyond any remaining strength. He felt the sentence of death within himself.

Why?

Why would God allow such a faithful servant of Paul to endure this prolonged suffering? Well, Paul tells us why.

“…so that we would not trust in ourselves, but in God Who raises the dead…He on Whom we have set our hope.” (II Corinthians 1:9-10)

When God puts His children in life’s waiting rooms, He has a good purpose in mind for us.

It is in the waiting that we see our need for God.

It is in the waiting that we learn a deeper trust.

It is in the waiting that we learn to praise God despite our suffering.

And it is in the waiting that we learn where to place our hope.

I talked not long ago to a husband who is caring for his wife with Alzheimer’s. They are far too young to be enduring this sadness. Yet his attitude was one of surrender to God’s plan instead of what his plan had been for their retirement years. He sees his care for her as the ministry that God has for him at this time in his life. He has learned where to place his hope.

There is a dear family here whose husband/dad has been on the heart transplant list but since he has had some strokes, he is no longer eligible for transplant. It was a gut punch. But God did open the door for him to be transferred to the #1 rehab hospital in the country. After being rejected by so many other rehab hospitals, God opened this one at just the right time. His wife said, “I am thankful for the prayers that God chooses to answer differently from what I expect. It’s just learning to continue to have the faith that He knows what He is doing.” In waiting slow, she has learned a deeper trust.

The point is, when we are waiting slow it’s so important not to place our hope in whatever answer we want from God, but instead to place our hope in God Himself.

He will do what is best, in His time. We can trust Him to do that!

“Wait for the Lord; be strong and let your heart take courage; yes, wait for the Lord.” (Psalm 27:14)

Remain With God

I’m sitting here tonight at my desk, feeling the weight of hurt that someone I love is enduring. Yet knowing, too, that God is at work answering prayers that have been prayed for years.

Sometimes God’s answers come with pain.

Praying with that knowledge is an act of sacrifice.

I don’t like pain and hurt, and I especially don’t like to see those I love in that condition.

A few weeks ago, I drove to see a sweet friend for the day. I shot this quick picture while I headed down the road.

That cloud was both beautiful and intimidating. Would it just stay a gorgeous cloud, or would it turn into a storm? On I went on the road I needed to take. Turns out there was a little thunder later but mostly I enjoyed a very pretty sky that God gave.

About this same time, I read I Corinthians 7. Paul was encouraging people of various situations in life…wives, Jews, Gentiles, slaves. He ended the section with these words:

“Brethren, each one is to remain with God in that condition in which he was called.” (I Cor. 7:24)

Three words jumped out at me.

Remain with God.

Whatever the condition to which we are called, we are to remain with God.

Sometimes…very often, actually…life’s situations to which God calls us are just plain hard.

Cancer. Oh, the dear friends I have who are battling cancer.

Dementia. Loss of a loved one. Or caring for a loved one with a serious illness.

Parenting special needs of any age.

And this world. This sad, scary, upended world.

But through it all, we are to remain with God.

Like that road I was driving, straight with a curve up ahead and a big uncertain cloud, but on which I knew I must remain until I reached my destination.

Remain with God through the tears, the fears, the pain, the pressures.

Don’t give up on God. Listen to what else Paul said about his own thorn in the flesh that God allowed him to have.

“And He has said to me, My grace is sufficient for you; for My power is made perfect in weakness.” (II Cor. 12:9)

If I don’t remain with God, then I will not be able to partake of His amazing and sufficient grace, or to experience His awesome power in my life.

Being under the hand of my loving Father is where I need to remain, regardless of the circumstances in which I find myself…or in which I find those that I love.

Remain with God.

There is no better place to be.

Grit And Glory

I hopped out of my van as I ran some errands a few days ago. Well, hopped may be a stretch. More like I stepped out of my van, in all honesty.

I had noticed this beautiful sky and being as I love taking sky pictures, I paused to snap a quick shot.

I knew, though, that it probably wouldn’t be the best view because of the surroundings.

“Nah,” I thought as I looked at the picture on my phone. “It’s too cluttered with ugliness.”

I almost deleted it then and there but decided to look at it later and decide.

As I thought about that picture, and as I looked at it on my computer, the view reminded me of some things.

Those “not-so-pretty” poles and buildings and store sign are a lot like our lives. I can say “our” because we all know that every person on the planet has a life that gets cluttered with “stuff.”

We wish our view could be like this picture that I took this week as well.

How gorgeous! How impressive!

But life isn’t picture perfect for any of us. Life is full of grit.

Some of the hardships we handle are private. We don’t want anyone to know about them, either because of pride or because we don’t want to bother others with our “stuff.”

Other areas of life are there for all to see. We might try to hide our issues, or not talk about them, or hope that they’re not obvious. But at times the junk is out there and noticeable and we are humiliated.

Whatever is going on in our lives, though, that messes up the beauty doesn’t need to consume our vision.

It is up to me to choose my focus.

And so it is with our lives. On what am I focusing?

Better yet, on WHOM am I focusing?

“For my eyes are toward You, O God, the Lord;

In You I take refuge…” (Psalm 141:8)

Oh, may we all learn to shift our eyes from our problems, our pain, our hurts, our struggles…and instead focus toward God, our refuge.

God’s character never changes even as our situations do. His beauty is still there.

Turn from our grit to His glory.

“My eyes are continually toward the Lord…” (Psalm 25:15)

Photo Worthy

We just finished the Thanksgiving season with all the family gatherings, delicious food, and lots of photo opportunities. Now the oranges and golds are being replaced by the reds and greens of Christmas. More pictures to come, for sure!

Already our social media is brimming with the pictures that others are sharing of their Christmas decorations. So much beauty and creativity! I love doing that every year, sharing the warmth and glow of the season.

But the brightness all around us, even if we only see it in a photo, sure can make the other side of life seem even darker than usual.

Other’s picture-perfect moments, if compared to some of ours, seem off-the-chart wonderful…and ours. Well, the line on our chart is going in the opposite direction. Way down.

Several years ago, I saw this picture of Mary and Joseph after the birth of baby Jesus. It’s probably the most accurate portrayal of the nativity that I have ever seen.

The call of God on their lives to be the earthly parents of Jesus came at a huge cost to them. They knew that their reputations would forever be tarnished. Gossip and judgmental stares would be their lot.

But can you imagine the long trip to Bethlehem for the census? The discomfort, hunger, dirt, and fear?

Then the baby being born in an animal stable. We don’t know for sure, but did they have help delivering baby Jesus? How Mary must have wished for her mother to be beside her!

Can you imagine how alone they must have felt? No family that we know of to surround them with love and care. No beautiful nursery ready for baby Jesus. No comfort of a soft bed for Mary or Jesus. No kitchen full of food, or a meal train at the ready.

Joseph and Mary submitted without reservation to God’s call on their lives. That special call might seem sweet and incredible to us but to them I can pretty safely assume that on most days it was anything but that.

Over this past week, mixed in with all the beautiful pictures of family gatherings, I was receiving other pictures from our dear friends.

Dan and Wendy have loved and cared for their Elijah (Speedy) for many years. Speedy has an extremely severe form of Epilepsy. He was hospitalized yet again during Thanksgiving, for six days.

Lots of tests.

Still, lots of unanswered questions.

Always, always there is so much love from these amazing parents for their Speedy.

But the pain…the grief…is so real.

Raw…and deep.

Wendy and I talk a lot. We speak the same language that comes from special needs parenting. We can be real with each other.

We understand what Dale Davis was saying in his commentary on the book of Luke when he talked about the benediction in Hebrews 13:20-21…about the part that says may God “do in us what pleases Him.”

That part is scary because we don’t know what it is that will please God.

Can we be like Mary, though, and submit to God’s will for our lives?

“May it be done to me according to Your word,” Mary replied as she was called to be the mother of God’s Son.

“Submission is preferable to consolation, for consolation pleases us, but submission pleases God.” (Thomas Hog, 1692)

Let that sink in.

There are so many times that I would far rather have the photo worthy moments of family and fun and excitement and adventure and beauty to be the posts of my life.

Not the incomplete family photos.

Not the tiredness…anger…frustrations…comparisons…resentments that often accompany this special-needs life.

How about you? What is it in your life that you feel isn’t photo worthy?

What would you gladly trade in for a more beautiful shot?

Somehow, though, I know that God looks down on our broken and He sees the very people and things that bring Him the most glory and the most joy.

He sees way beyond this temporal into a plan for each life that goes far beyond what we will ever know on this old earth.

And that’s what is eternally photo worthy.

When I Don’t Understand

Years ago, in 2008, God put Gary and I on a very difficult life path. I say that God put us on that path because Gary and I fully know and trust that God does direct our steps when we are living in obedience to Him.

The situation was very hard for us. We were still in the phase of hurt and grief some weeks later when we went out of town for a few days. There in our hotel room, as Gary was studying for his upcoming Sunday School class, I opened my Bible and found myself looking at Isaiah 40.

I began reading. Soon I was pulled into what Isaiah was sharing about almighty God, the God that I know and love. I continued into chapter 41, feeling God’s Word wash over my wounded and tired heart.

Did God give answers to our situation in these verses?

No.

But what God did do was to draw my eyes to Him…to Who He is…and off what was clamoring for my focus all around me.

It was very easy during those days…and still is, honestly…to look at the clutter of hurtful events and let that be where my eyes stayed.

But Isaiah’s words pulled my eyes away from that clutter and shifted me instead to God Himself.

I am so burdened right now about the horrible things happening right now in Ukraine. We all are.

Why, God, are you allowing this to happen?

Where are You?!

I have been reading and pondering again through these Isaiah chapters. I have no answers for the situation that God is somehow allowing in Ukraine.

But I do know that God is the One Who measured out earth’s waters in the hollow of His hand. He spread out and adjusted the heavens with His fingers, weighed out the mountains, sits above the circle of the earth, and sees earth’s inhabitants as grasshoppers.

God created the stars, leads them forth by number, calls them all by name, and because of His might and power not one of them is missing.

“So why, Jacob,” God asks, “do you say your way is hidden from God and the justice you are due escapes My notice?”

This God of Jacob is our God today! He is one and the same, never changing in His love for each of us.

But I believe that many of us want to ask Him the same about Ukraine.

God, do You care? Is the horror in Ukraine hidden from You? Where is the justice?

Alec Motyer says: “…our inability to discern does not mean that no discernment is at work; our inability to see point or purpose does not mean there is no point or purpose. The more we exalt the greatness of our God, the more we learn to appreciate our smallness, weakness, incapacity. We need to learn not to fret and fume; we need to accept our limitations of knowledge, wisdom, and foresight. Or, as Isaiah tells us, we need to practice waiting for the Lord. Waiting is looking.”

And as we wait on the Lord…as we look to almighty God…we pray for all those who are suffering so much right now.

“Have you not known? Have you not heard?

The Lord is the everlasting God,

The creator of the ends of the earth.

He does not faint or grow weary;

His understanding is unsearchable.

He gives power to the faint,

And to him who has no might he increases strength.

Even youths shall faint and be weary,

And young men shall fall exhausted;

But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength;

They shall mount up with wings like eagles;

They shall run and not be weary;

They shall walk and not faint.” (Isaiah 40:28-31)

All I know to do is to push away the clutter of my own thoughts…keep my eyes focused on almighty God…and pray for the precious people of Ukraine to be able to do the same.

See My Hurt?

Aaron recently had a tooth that was hurting him so much that he asked me to hurry and call our dentist so he could look at it. For Aaron to want to go to the dentist showed me that he was truly in pain. Our dentist referred Aaron to our endodontist, who confirmed what the dentist thought…that Aaron’s tooth was probably cracked way down in the root, infected, and would need to be pulled.

Aaron was fascinated to look at the x-ray that the endodontist showed him. You could see all the dark areas of infection very clearly. Dr. Turner explained to Aaron that this was why his tooth hurt so much.

Our next appointment was with an oral surgeon, the same one who had removed Aaron’s back molar near this infected tooth. That molar had fractured during a drop seizure when Aaron’s face had hit a cement floor.

At first Aaron was pensive and tired:

Then he became silly as we waited for the doctor (look at his watch! 😊):

Dr. Cole finally arrived and examined Aaron’s hurting tooth. He put up the x-rays that were taken in his office a few minutes earlier.

Aaron’s eyes darted to the x-rays. He studied them for a few seconds.

“Can you see my hurt?” he asked.

Dr. Cole was a little confused. He said that he couldn’t exactly see the crack but that they knew it was there.

“But can you see my hurt?” Aaron asked again.

I knew what Aaron meant. He wondered if Dr. Cole could see the dark area of infection that was visible on his other x-rays. These looked different and Aaron was concerned that Dr. Cole couldn’t see his hurt.

I explained to the doctor what Aaron meant and then he understood.

But Aaron’s way of asking about his tooth…his hurt…was SO Aaron and so touching, somehow.

I’ve thought a lot about seeing hurt, not only as it relates to Aaron but to others all around us as well.

One day last week when I picked him up at his day group, he had just had a seizure before I got there. He was laying on a booth seat when he had the seizure and so he fell off the seat, onto the floor. I went in and there he lay on the cement floor. One of the very kind supervisors actually got on the floor with Aaron as we tried to wake him up. It took awhile before Aaron was awake enough to get off the floor, but it took some doing to get out of that tight area. Later that night, Aaron showed us a couple scuffed places on his back. Thankfully that was the only evidence we saw of his seizure…that, and his bitten tongue.

That was a hurt I could see. Him lying on the floor, having a difficult time communicating when he woke up, and then the areas on his back that hurt, were all visible to us.

But how many times does Aaron, or any of us, have hurts which others can’t see?

For me, I hurt when Aaron has seizures. I hurt when he talks about wanting a girlfriend or wanting to get married.

Or when his meds make him very sleepy, and I wish he wasn’t so drugged:

Yet those hurts are ones I don’t want Aaron to see and so I hide them as best I can from him, and even from others.

How about you? Do you have hurts you hide from the world, or even from those closest to you?

I think we all do. I know I do.

Why do we hide our hurts? Maybe we don’t want others to feel sorry for us. Maybe we feel we must be strong in front of everyone. Maybe we’re embarrassed. Maybe we can’t bear to share the pain and hurt we feel so we try to bury it.

But there is One Who sees every hurt we carry…Who understands every pain we feel…Who is wanting us to turn to Him and let Him take and carry our burdens.

“Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy-laden, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

Here is another way to say it:

“Come to Me, all who are beaten down and burdened down, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:28)

I think of the old hymn, Tell It To Jesus:

Are you weary, are you heavy hearted?

Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus.

Are you grieving over joys departed?

Tell it to Jesus alone.

Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus,

He is a Friend that’s well known.

You’ve no other such a friend or brother,

Tell it to Jesus alone.

Do the tears flow down your cheeks unbidden?

Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus.

Have you sins that to men’s eyes are hidden?

Tell it to Jesus alone.

Do you fear the gathering clouds of sorrow?

Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus.

Are you anxious what shall be tomorrow?

Tell it to Jesus alone.

Are you troubled at the thought of dying?

Tell it to Jesus, tell it to Jesus.

For Christ’s coming kingdom are you sighing?

Tell it to Jesus alone.

If we can’t share our hurt and burden with anyone else, we can still share it with Jesus. But sharing our hurts with those we trust, those who will pray for and with us, is also a huge help in relieving our pain.

There is way too much hurt today in this crazy world…way too many beaten and burdened down people. I pray that I will look at everyone around me and wonder if they are saying, “Do you see my hurt?”

And even if I can’t see it, that I will be kind and loving to everyone, knowing that they may be carrying a huge hurt that I know nothing about.

May I see and love through the eyes of Jesus.

And may I let that same Jesus carry my unseen hurts.

But Afghanistan…

My husband and I had a little getaway last week. The hotel where we stayed is the same hotel we have used before. It’s part of a major chain and one that we trust due to our past good experiences there.

This stay, however, wasn’t so pleasant in a few ways – the main one being their new cleaning policy. We were less than pleased for several reasons, even after filling out a form that we were never told about when checking in a few days earlier.

I took a couple pictures before we checked out and fully intended to post an honest review on their web site, and maybe even share it on FB. That’s how unhappy I was.

But Afghanistan…

I walked into our nearby grocery store today. The aisles have been shuffled, yet again. I felt irritated. I almost complained to a fellow customer who was standing there at the end of an aisle looking as befuddled as I’m sure I did.

But Afghanistan…

My favorite low-carb ice cream bars are still not in stock, at any store, for some strange reason. I’ve griped to my husband about it and felt that same grumbling desire hit me as I looked at the still empty freezer shelf today.

But Afghanistan…

My Sparkling Ice flavor of choice was gone today.

It’s so hot here.

And so dry.

So many reasons to be dissatisfied.

But Afghanistan…

I am a free woman. I am safe. My family is safe.

Going to church to worship Jesus is not a death sentence for me.

I don’t fear that dreaded knock on our door that might bring torture or death.

I could go on, but all of you know what I’m talking about. You see the horrible images and hear the terrifying reports.

Oh God, may I not let petty and trivial issues spoil my joy.

And every time I am tempted to do just that, may I instead stop and pray for the people of Afghanistan, and the Americans left there, who are suffering more than I can even begin to fathom.

Fill me with thankfulness for every single good blessing that I have all around me.

Fill me with compassion for the Afghan people.

Fill me with the compulsion to pray for my fellow believers there.

It’s easy to say that I don’t want to think about all this sadness. I want to be happy.

How shallow!

The least I can do is to keep these suffering people in my mind and in my prayers…to be aware of and in sorrow for their tragic needs.

But Afghanistan…God help them.

Tough Trust

Yesterday as I ate my lunch, I saw a picture on my computer that started my mind turning toward some issues that make me sad. As I wrote in my last blog (Listening Carefully), I know better than to let my thoughts stay on certain matters that will pull me down. I am consciously practicing, more and more, immediately turning my heart to God and affirming to Him…and to me…that I trust Him totally.

As I sat at my table, thinking on these things and praying, these words came to me. I shared them right away on Facebook.

It was around 1:30, and soon I was to go pick Aaron up at his day group. He had a seizure early that morning, around 4:30, but felt fine and so was able to go on and spend the day with his friends.

When we got home, as we talked about many things…because with Aaron there are always many things that he wants to talk about…I mentioned to him that I saw his empty deodorant in his bathroom trash can.

“Yes!” he said, “I put some on this one but not on this one!”

I turned to see him holding up one arm at a time as he showed me which arm pit had gotten deodorant and which one had not. 😊

I left him in his bathroom to remedy the arm pit situation. I had just sat at my desk in my bedroom nearby when I heard the awful crash and the sounds of a big seizure.

I yelled for Gary and ran in the bathroom to see Aaron laying in the tub. He had fallen backward into the tub, taking with him the shower curtain and rod. He was entangled in all that, plus in his shirt that he had been removing. The first thing to do was to hold his head to keep him from continually banging it on the hard tub as he seized. Gary had run upstairs, grabbing one of Aaron’s small pillows to put under Aaron’s head.

These sudden and very dangerous seizures are just awful on many levels. It’s a terrible feeling to hear that crash and then the seizure sounds…to run to him not knowing what you will find…to wonder how hard he hit his head or if there are other injuries.

We had untangled him from the shower curtain and from his twisted shirt that was all around both his arms and hands. Gary put a sweater over him and then we just had to let him lay there in the tub until he was awake enough to be moved to his bed.

I went back to my desk, still shaken, and cried. I cried out of fear, yes, but mostly I cried because it makes me so incredibly sad to see my son go through all these physical hurts.

But as I sat there, God softly spoke into my hurting heart…and He reminded me of those words that He had given me two hours earlier. God gave me words I needed before I knew just how much I would soon need them.

Yes, my heart is so tender when I think of Aaron and all the years of his physical suffering. But God really does take that mama hurt I feel and uses it to show me how to toughly trust in Him.

I have to be tough for Aaron, and really, I can only do that because of my trust in God. Sometimes that sort of trust doesn’t come naturally. It would be more natural for me to be mad at God for letting this happen to Aaron, over and over and over.

But I know my heavenly Father, and I know that He has reasons far beyond what I will ever know on this earth for why He lets Aaron suffer.

It’s a tough place for me to be and it calls for a tough trust. If my life was only smooth and simple, no tough trust would be needed. But then I would not know God as deeply. I would not experience His peace and comfort. My faith would stay simple and small.

A verse also came to my mind as I sat there thinking of all these matters. I want to leave that verse with you…that simple but profound word from God.

There it is again…trust. Even when it’s tough.

ESPECIALLY when it’s tough.

Damaged

During our trip to the Houston area last month, we noticed that the palm trees looked different. One normally expects palm trees to resemble these:

But instead, this is what we saw.

I stood there staring as I snapped this picture. The trees looked both silly and sad.

“Bless your hearts,” I wanted to say. I am from the south, you know.

Andrea explained what had happened. The prolonged deep freeze this past February had taken quite a toll on the palm trees. Many were irreparably damaged…dead.

I have read a little about the palm trees and found out that one way you can tell if a palm is dead is to scratch a section of bark off the tree. If there is green underneath, then the palm is alive.

These sad looking palms we saw were, despite their damage, alive. We could tell by the growth on top, odd as they might have looked.

This past Sunday at church we were privileged to listen to a live interview between our pastor and a prominent businessman from our city. Britt Fulmer discussed his cancer journey. Unless God works a miracle, there is nothing humanly possible that can be done for him. Again, barring a miracle, heaven might soon be a reality for Britt.

Yet I walked away from that service full of hope and praise. That is because Britt was full of hope and praise. He conveyed, through his rather frail voice, the strength OF God because of his total trust IN God. There was no anger, no regret, and definitely no fear as he confidently gave testimony of his total trust in God’s plan for him in this trial. In fact, Britt has grown during his hard bout with cancer.

I think of so many I know who are battered from life’s prolonged adversities. One can look at them and see the damage in various ways in their lives. It reminds me of those palm trees.

But you know what? Those palm trees are still standing, despite showing the stress of the freeze they endured.

And they’re growing! If we scraped off a section of their bark, we would see green underneath.

Life is there!

Roots run deep!

James talked to believers about trials.

“Consider it all joy, my brethren, when you encounter various trials; knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance. And let endurance have its perfect result, so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.” (James 1: 2-4)

That word “consider” means to make a judgment. We have a choice to make when we encounter various…multi-colored…trials in this life. Are we going to allow God to work in our lives the endurance that He desires? That endurance is the act of abiding under the difficulties.

Will we abide under the prolonged pain in our lives, whatever it may be? Because if we choose to do that…to abide under the suffering…we are really abiding under the shadow of the Almighty Who has our best interests and His glory in mind.

To abide means to endure without yielding.

So, to endure means to abide…and abide means to endure.

It means I stay put in the place God has put me, even if He has put me under suffering.

I don’t yield to unbelief. I don’t give in to giving up on God.

Instead, I allow endurance under the hardships to produce in me a maturity and growth that is evident to everyone around me. But I can’t produce that growth myself. Only God can grow me in that way as I abide in Him, fully trusting His plan for me.

Suffering hurts, no doubt about it. Long-term suffering takes a toll.

But what will others see in me beyond the damage?

Will they see growth, even if I feel like it’s just a little bit?

Is there green under my bark?

Oh God, grow us in our prolonged sufferings so that You will be honored and others will be amazed at what You have done!

The Cold Snap

We have a little bush in our front flower bed, a perennial that we planted probably 17 years ago. In fact, I can’t even remember the name of this little bush, so I just call it that – Little Bush. This hardy bush keeps its leaves on all year long, which is part of its charm. In the summer the leaves are green with some maroon mixed in, and in the fall and winter the leaves are mostly maroon. Small berries also grow among the leaves in the fall, so by Christmas it seems to be all decorated for the season. I really like my Little Bush!

Last year, though, probably starting in March, I noticed that Little Bush didn’t look so healthy. Its leaves that always stay were falling off, until finally only stark, naked branches were there.

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This was quite unusual, and I was worried. Was I finally going to lose my long lasting little bush? Was there something that I could do to save it?

I kept looking at Little Bush, wondering what had happened. Then one day an article in the newspaper caught my attention. The headline said something about how certain trees and bushes in Wichita were losing their leaves. I read the information with interest because of my little bush. The writer explained that earlier in the winter we had experienced several nights when temperatures had dipped to -10 degrees or lower. These frigid temperatures had damaged some trees and bushes that normally held their leaves all winter.

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There was my explanation, I thought. This cold snap had damaged Little Bush. Then the article went on to assure gardeners not to worry but to be patient…that most trees and bushes would begin to grow again in the warmth of spring because their roots were not damaged by the extreme cold.

So I waited and I observed. I checked my little bush routinely and sure enough one day I saw tiny new leaves emerging on the empty twigs.

As time went on and the days passed, the warm spring sun and the rains did their restorative work. Little Bush grew…

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And grew…

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Until finally Little Bush was back, as pretty as ever!

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I’ve had some cold snaps in my life, too…times and events that came unexpectedly and with little or no warning. Everyone has.

Cold snaps hurt. And they take many various forms.

An illness. A diagnosis. Sudden death. Lingering death. Rejection. Accusation. Betrayal. Job loss. Divorce. A prodigal. Regret. Guilt.

I remember my dad’s victory over lung cancer…how relieved and thankful we were when treatments were complete and he was in remission. But before the five-year mark came the blood work and the testing and the phone call…liver cancer…inoperable…four more years of chemo…hospice…

Cold snap. Recovery. Then another cold snap.

But through it all, our family verse brought us each the warmth and the hope that we needed: “God is our refuge and strength; a very present help in trouble.” (Psalm 46:1)

Sometimes our hard times…our cold snaps…make us feel like David when he said, “My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all day long – “Where is your God?” (Psalm 42:3)

Where is God in our pain? Oh, He hasn’t gone anywhere! He’s a very PRESENT help in our trouble, remember? He’s right here with us.

Right after David said his tears were his food, he said, “Why are you in despair, oh my soul? And why have you become disturbed within me? Hope in God, for I shall again praise Him for the help of His PRESENCE.” (Psalm 42:5)

My little bush had hope because its roots were secure, and so do we who know and follow Christ. We have hope in our despair because we know that God is sovereign…He is in control…He has a plan…He is present…and He has a purpose for the cold snaps that rock our world.

“I called on Your name, O Lord, out of the lowest pit. You have heard my voice. Do not hide Your ear from my prayer for relief, from my cry for help. You drew near when I called on You. You said – “Do not fear!” (Lamentations 3:55-57)

God is near in our pain…near in our pondering…near in our praise that arises even out of hurt and unanswered questions.

I love these lyrics of Jeremy Camp’s song, He Knows:

All the bitter weary ways

Endless striving day by day

You barely have the strength to pray

In the valley low.

And how hard your fight has been

How deep the pain within

Wounds that no one else has seen

Hurts too much to show.

All the doubt you’re standing in between

And all the weight that brings you to your knees.

He knows

Every hurt and every sting

He has walked the suffering.

He knows

Let your burdens come undone

Lift your eyes up to the one

Who knows

He knows.

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