The Very Hairs of your head are numbered...

My sister-in-law is out of town again for grandkid's birthdays. She'll be gone for a week - so I've been having to go to the store and get meds etc.  Usually my sil drives me so I've been praying before I go anywhere that God will keep me safe and not let me kill anybody.  I'm exhausted.

I have been grocery shopping, which leaves feeling me dried up, spat out, and left by the side of the road. Then I had to go today to Costco, which for those of you who don't know, is a ginormous warehouse full of foods and appliances and, of course, the pharmacy is at the very back, a mile and a half away (at least that's how it feels) and today there were no putt-putts (they actually have little electric carts for those of us who are standing and walking challenged).  My Rx wouldn't be ready for a half hour so, brilliantly, I decided to wander the acreage and look around - then wandered back (uphill) when the beeper went off ( yes, they hand out beepers, just like some fancy restaurant).

Needless to say, I was a weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee bit tired by the time I was through.

 

Now, there's a Greek takeout place with wonderful food somewhere around there - I can never find it - but after getting my meds I thought I'd try to find it - again.  Why? Dunno.  Seemed like a good idea at the time.

So I'm driving down different streets looking for this place and suddenly the warning light for extreme low pressure in my tires goes off.  I don't know about you, but when a warning light goes off on my dashboard, blinking red or yellow to get my immediate attention (which, incidentally, works really well) I panic.

I know there's a car place also somewhere in my vicinity - but I don't have a clue where, my brother usually does all my car stuff, God bless him. Anyway I pray immediately Lord what do I do??? I don't even have a tire gauge!! 

At the moment, I'm in a turn lane and, as I turn, I notice there's a gas station opposite me.  At the next intersection I make a u-turn and go back. It's like one of those mini-mart-free-shower-with-fill-up places which, in California, is usually run by a surly person of indeterminate species and only carries bizarre snacks and alcohol. 

But I drive in and park in front of the air hose. Above the hose is a bright red sign stating it can only be used after inserting 75cents in quarters - they charge for air now!!! I was aghast! (But then, since I didn't know how to use it anyway, it was sort of a moot point.)

I enter the mini mart. I ask the cash register person, who is built like a bodyguard/biker and has a long grey skinny braid halfway down his back and a cherubic face surrounded by short salt and pepper hair, if they have a gauge. "Yup. Right down that aisle, on the right."

Happily, I at least knew what they looked like, so I could identify what I wanted to purchase! I found it, took it to the register and, fully aware that I'm being really pathetic, asked him if he could tell me how to use it. 

"Yes ma'am," he said.And then, in the kindly tone you use to comfort a 7 year old who has just been told by a classmate that there is no Santa Claus, he added, "I'll take it out to the car and take care of you."  

Handel's Alleluia Chorus begins playing in my head - in full stereo!

He rang up the sale, got someone else to cover the counter and came outside with me. He showed me how to read the gauge, checked the tires, showed me how to use the air pump, and filled the one that was low (after I deposited 75cents of course). On the outside I thanked him several times - on the inside I was thanking God and alleluia chorusing! 

Yes, Virginia, THERE ARE ANGELS AMONG US!

And may the Lord reward his kindness.

Here I'd been completely terrified, close to tears and totally lost - and God had it allllllll under control. (I even found the Greek place!!)

The thing is, I knew that He was in control.

You probably do, too - but in the middle of life's crises, we forget.

So here's a little handy reminder that whatever you're going through today, from CI to facing your worst fears: God knows.  You are not alone in the cosmos. 

God has it alllllllllllllllll under control. 

Trust Him.

I was reading in Deuteronomy today - and I noticed the way remembering the Passover was stressed and stressed and stressed again -" Do not forget that you were once a slave in Egypt."  Moses was speaking to people who were children at the first Passover, and now were 40-60 years old.  The ones who were the slaves had all died in the desert.  Yet they were reminded that they had been slaves in Egypt - and reminded of the God Who frees from servitude. 

Jesus did the same thing - at the "Last Supper" which in actuality was a Passover celebration, the One Who frees from servitude said to His apostles, "Do this in remembrance of Me." 

At every communion service, He is remembered - and He is remembered for setting us free - the children of slaves, and slaves ourselves until the moment when we realized we needed our Passover Lamb to save us.

Coming up on Passover time, we do well  to remember how much Jesus is represented in the Passover itself. I think this is especially true for those of us who are CI.

We are in a sort of slavery to whatever our particular CI is - and yet, He has made a way for us to be free, even as we wear the 'shackles" of illness.  He bought us out of the marketplace as slaves, washed us with His blood, and freed us - from sin, yes, but from being bound also.  On bad days this is often difficult to remember - all we see is the hedges that close us in, whereas if we look up, we see freedom.  All hedges are for our protection as well as a means of confinement. He is creating something special in us - for all eternity we will be an example of His keeping power, His freeing power and, when and if He heals us, His healing power.

Now, on to the feast!

The lamb, of course, is central to the ceremony - and an unbroken bone is included in the Passover plate as a reminder that the sheep was to be sacrificed without breaking a single bone.  In the original ceremony, the lamb's blood is put on the lintel (the top of the door), then the sides of the doorway - in one motion making the sign of the cross.  The matzos - the unleavened bread at dinner, is striped and pierced, the same way Jesus was.  The father of the house searches everywhere to find the leaven - for they are commanded to have no leaven in their houses for 7 days, and leaven is a type of sin, found everywhere in the OT and NT.  Father searches everywhere with a lit candle (the Holy Spirit.)  When a ceremonial piece of leaven is found, it is put in a paper cup and burned outside of the house.  Children run wild in the house, "helping" Father find the forbidden lumps of bread left here and there.

Bitter herb - a bit of parsley - and salt water - representing the tears of the slaves, are taken - each dipping the parsley in the saltwater.  This is what Jesus referred to when pointing out to John who His betrayer was - "He who dips in the bowl with me..."

And then we have the three matzos.  Father pulls out a bag with 3 compartments.  One whole piece of matzo in the top, one whole piece of matzo on the bottom.  But, in the center compartment, the matzo is broken in half.  Only half goes into its pouch, the other half is wrapped in linen and is "buried" by Father. This is the piece Jesus broke and said "this is my Body, broken for you." The piece that is buried is called the Afikommen.  That is not a Hebrew word.  It is a Greek word that means, "He will be back." 

Meanwhile, 3 cups of wine are passed.  The 3rd cup, which is our communion, is called "the cup of Redemption".  It is this cup that Jesus held when He said, "This is My blood, shed for you"

Then Father "suddenly" finds the Afikommen, and it is broken and passed to all. 

The youngest child in the house gets to as the 4 questions of Passover, beginning with the well=known, "Why is this Saturday different from any other Saturday?"  Then at the end, taking note of the table setting in front of the empty chair, the child runs to the door to see if Elijah is standing there, because Elijah is prophesied to come before Messiah comes.  Finding no one (yet) the youngster comes back and the Hallel Psalms are sung on the way out, as Jesus and His apostles rose and went to Gethsemane.

The garden at Gethsemane was actually a large portion of the hill opposite the temple.  Passover is one of the feasts of Israel where each male must appear before the Lord .  The population of Jerusalem would swell , as some estimate, from a few thousand to close to a million people, and many could not afford a hotel room - if there was one to be found - and so the families and single men camp out amidst the olive trees.

It is here Judas comes, leading a crowd of unruly men, presumably with torches, to the grove where Judas knew He would be.  It would have awakened all those in the garden with the noise and the torches - they would be staring and pointing and whispering to one another. 

The humiliation had begun. 

Those in the garden would have seen Peter chop off the High Priest's servant's ear - and seen Jesus heal him.  The servant would have been covered in blood all over his tunic.  I've often wondered what kind of man could have an ear chopped off in an instant, screaming with the pain and horror of it- then in another instant, cut off in mid-scream, be perfectly healed - no pain, no more blood, reach up and feel the ear completely whole and pain free, and then in another instant, arrest the and beat the One Who healed you.

It's an amazing feast - and I've really left most of it out!  If you want to check it out online at zolalevitt.com you will find many resources, from a book on the feasts of Israel to a video of the full ceremony. This feast was fulfilled so perfectly by the Messiah - and more and more Jews - and Arabs(all the children of Abraham) - are coming to know Him, as He has begun to lift the veil that has covered their eyes for 2 millennia.  Soon the cries of "Baruch haba Hashem Adonai" will once again ring out from the temple mount "Blessed is He Who comes in the Name of the LORD!"

We live in an exciting time, as  prophecy is fulfilled before our eyes - we slaves who were not only set free, but adopted into His family. We have become His brothers and sisters -  all children of the Father, indwelled by the Holy Spirit, and saved by the Blood of the Lamb.

"Do this in remembrance of Me..."

Selah.

A Grateful Heart

Wow!  two months since last I wrote!

Things have been rough for awhile.  I am filled with gratitude to be able to say the sciatic nerve pain has been extinguished for the moment.  This was my second attack, so I figure it can attack again when God wills it.  For now, my soul is awash with the thanksgiving of less pain to deal with!

My energy level has been sucked dry by all the above.  I have had to stop attending church, and have been grateful for the Internet broadcast our church has.  I have to say that my pastor is one of the best teachers I've ever been honored to listen to - He researches all the backgrounds, the places , the customs, mixes it with humor, the tenderness of God's heart, and the joy of being His child.  You can listen as well - the website is http://www.ccgreenvalley.org/ and the time (all Pacific standard) of the broadcasts is noted.  Wednesday nights are Old Testament, Saturday nights and Sundays are New.  There is also a video archive of all his teaching, and an audio one down loadable to your smartphones, whatever they are (can you tell I am not a great whiz with electronics?)  He is also on the Calvary Chapel radio station - his program is "Through the Word".

I feel in a way as if I were emerging from a tunnel.  The colors of Spring, which come early to the high desert, are everywhere.  The town was planned; so the mulberry trees and the Palo Verde trees are putting on their show at present - wild profusions of lacy pink blossoms dance on the breezes (and hang on for dear life during our frequent windstorms!).  The Palo Verde are trees with chartreuse green bark (lifelong) and chartreuse green spring flowers that have a touch of yellow in them.  The branches and limbs are as fine as a flower stem, and when in bloom look like they belong in a fairyland.  Hummingbirds with flashes of bright purple and brilliant reds dip in and out of the gossamer blossoms and delight the heart.  And our quail (as many as 15-20 at a time, the babies of babies of babies of our first group of 4) cluck and chortle their way through our days, bringing laughter and delight.  We also have two male mockingbirds who seem to stake out our feeders as "theirs" every spring, strolling on our back cement block wall until they see each other.  Then they stop, not a feather moving, not a muscle twitching and give each other "the stare."  And then they run full tilt at one another and chest bump, for all the world like two tipsy Bubbas trying to impress a lady.  The first time I saw that "display" I roared with laughter and tears filled my eyes.  I've never heard of such behavior among birds - elk, yes, mountain sheep, yes, but birds?  I should film it and put it on YouTube!

For us CI's, little things become big things.  If we're housebound, every excursion is precious.  Paths in parks that are wheelchair accessible are wonders, chairs in libraries, individual go carts in grocery stores, all are wonderful gifts which, I must confess, I tend to take for granted.  I've been blessed to visit a few countries "across the pond" and I certainly was pleased to return to  the smoke-free and handicap accessible portion of the USA where I live.

And that's the point of this devotional today - gratitude and thanksgiving. 

When I lost my eyesight for awhile, I was so deeply grateful for its return.  Now, once again, I find myself taking it for granted, although it was in my heart and on my lips frequently at its return. 

The same thing happens when my pain medication works especially well, not just decreasing but eliminating the pain for awhile.  To suddenly realize the pain is gone is a miraculous thing for me.  You would think that the first thing out of my mouth would be thanksgiving, wouldn't you?  Yet that is often, to my shame, not the case.  I often don't realize it's gone until it hits again, unexpectedly and with vigor.  After all these years, you would think I had it down pat.

Nope.

When I attended my first Christian Writers' Conference, I found Dr.Ruth Vaughn's books.  She is a contemporary and friend of Eugenia Price, one of my favorites.  Dr. Vaughn's doctorate is in creative writing.  She had been a professor at the same college as her husband for years.

Then cancer struck.

She had cancer of the pituitary gland, almost died more than once, and was confined to bed for quite awhile as it got worse - then gradually the treatment began to work and she was cured.  During this time she wrote letters to her children with things she wanted them to know- Letters In A Lockbox  was the result. Letters Dropt From God and Even When I Cry were two others that resulted - plus My God! My God! , the cries of a frightened sheep, like you and me, bleating with fear at the edge of a precipice. What's a Mother to Say? is her answer to the questions, sometimes difficult, that children can ask that really make us think, and then shares her answers - from a strong Christian position.

But way back then at the Writers' Conference I stumbled on her book Writing to Discover Yourself . It was an amazing journey in writing - guidelines for any writer, written soon after her diagnosis when she was bedridden for the most part.  It changed the way I looked at life, the way I wrote, the way I processed the world - all a long-winded way to share this piece she included in the section on the senses.  I've been reading her again and stumbled on it - and it left me face down in worship before my King, confessing my thankless heart and using her words to praise Him.

I invite you to join me - this is Dr. Vaughn's piece, "Lord, Accept My Belated Thanks" from Write to Discover Yourself copywrited 1980, page 51.

"I thank You, Lord, that You have not diminished the beauty of the rainbow, the grace of the cottontail, or the luminous loveliness of summer for lack of praise from me. I am grateful, Lord, that You have not withdrawn a note from the haunting music of the wind, the excitement of the cold, wild spray of blowing rain, the enchantment of the breeze and oaks exchanging secrets, because of my negligent gratitude.  I thank You, Lord, for not leaving unfinished one golden leaf, one tickling raindrop, one mischievous, slender moonbeam because of my sleeping thankfulness.

"I am grateful, Lord, for grumbling thunder which rattles winter stars together, for the lazy coils of morning that unwind slowly into a lovely day, for protesting jays and sequestered thickets, for sprinkles of stars, scatter-pinned on the velvet folds of the heavens, for the giddy, gay robins to announce the arrival of spring, for the glory of a young pear tree in bridal veil.

"I thank You for the diverse radiances of the dawn, the crystal-ringed fishpond, the laughter of little children, the bedstead initialed by small convalescents, the quicksilver moments of love and happiness.

"Lord, now I pause in a moment of thanksgiving.  I know that it is long overdue.  For the beauty with which You have filled my world has been taken for granted by me far too long.  Accept my gratitude for Thy salvation, a place to serve, friends who love and care, a challenge for which to work, a hope to hold to my heart, a dream to hang onto the very loveliness of spring.

"And, most of all, Lord, thank You for taking time from engineering Your planets, Your moons, Your suns, Your stars to bend above me listening to my cry for help; and even though I am often ungrateful and always unworthy, You care for me.  You love me.  You answer my prayer!
Though belated and long overdue, Lord, accept my thanks!"

To which I add, "Amen, and Amen."

The Gift that keeps on giving

It is New Year's Eve.  I am alone except for She Who Hides Under The Bed.  It is a crisp, frosty night, turning your breath into little puffs of white vapor.  I've just been blessed with a guest speaker at our church, talking about prophecy and how very many have been fulfilled in the last 60+ years, starting with the regathering of Israel. 

The New Year will begin soon, and only God knows what it will contain.  This year will unfold more prophecies, more events foretold by His faithful ones thousands of years ago.  It is astonishing to realize that how many prophecies have been fulfilled in my lifetime!  Even more astonishing is that He has chosen me to be His child, and has sworn Himself to be my Father. What a gift!

But then, our God is a generous Giver.

He has given us so much - life to begin with, and then Life if we have asked Him to enter in.  Everything about God is rich with giving.

In His Word, the word "give" and its derivatives occurs roughly 2100 times. (statistics from Acts & Facts, the magazine of the Institute for Creation Research)

It is interesting that the first occurrence is when He created the great lights in the heavens to give light upon the earth (Gen 1:15) as God Himself  is light, and in Him is no darkness at all. How fitting it is that this season is heralded by light - dancing on rooftops and outlining every bush.

The last mention of giving is in Rev22:12 - from Genesis to Revelation, God is a giver.

The greatest mention of giving is, of course, in John 3:16: "for God so loved..."

That pretty much sums up our God doesn't it?  For God so loved us all that He is ready and willing to give us Light whenever we need it.  He gave us the greatest Light of all time and eternity in His Son, and through that one act of giving bought our freedom from the darkness of the slavery we had been sold into by Adam. 

And each day He gives us the grace needed to deal with whatever He has allowed into our lives - and that includes CI.

Thinking of CI as a gift of God to be thankful for ...well... it's a bit difficult sometimes.  But nevertheless, it's true - everything that touches me He has ordained.  It is not some cosmic mistake that I am ill, it is a chosen path He has presented me with, a path that will last as long as He wills it.  And looking back over the last 24 years, I can see some of the blessings, and can honestly say there are many things about it that I am thankful for.

Primarily, it has taught me that He knows, and He is able.  Those two things enable me to leave the details in His hands.  He knows each day what He has chosen for me, and He is able to keep me safe through it.

Sometimes though, His opinion of "safe" and mine differ a bit.  That's when the fear sends me flying to His lap, choosing to worship where I don't understand.

Don't misunderstand me - I do not burble happily through each bout of pain or whistle a happy tune through the fear.  There have been days lately where my main prayer has been not to pass out from the pain - a severe bout of sciatic nerve pain has begun and I dearly hope it will soon be concluded!  It's hard to understand the whys and wherefores - but God has never promised to explain Himself to me.  He is the Creator, I am His creature - and I have no right to demand explanations.  He wants me to trust Him, and I have no doubts whatsoever of His worthiness, His faithfulness, or any of the other things that make Him a trustworthy person. 

And so I set my face like flint and I trust Him. Sometimes, I confess, through gritted teeth.  And when I can, I thank Him - for many things, my illness among them.  I trust there is a reason for the pain and the darkness and the fear.  And I can see that each time I trust Him through some difficulty, I learn something new about Him, His love, His ways.

A friend introduced me to the concept of having a single word be the focus of a year (or week or a month - whatever you choose)

And so, for the coming year, I have chosen the word "teachable".

I want my spirit to be open to what He has for me - whether it's a bend in the road of my CI, a formal class opportunity, a new path, new lessons wherever they are.  Perhaps a new way of journaling, combining my art with my writing - I don't know.  Whatever it is, I want my heart to be open to it.  I want to concentrate on hearing His voice, doing His will, being what He would choose for me to be - and rejoicing in it, even in the midst of discomfort. I want more of Him and less of me, more being able to say "Ahhhh!  THAT'S what He meant!"  More worship.  More prayer.  Less murmuring, less letting pain win.

When this time comes around next year, I want to be able to say, "thank you for using my illness to teach me things I could have learned no other way.

"What an awesome Gift it has been."

The Christmas Play

I wrote this years ago - yet, with the arrival of the Christmas season, I bring it forth every year.  It never fails to make me cry, because this is a true story.  It happened in the midwest in the late 1950s, before the mention of God was banned and prayer in schools was legal.  I pray it blesses you - and if you've read it before, perhaps a second reading will bless you, as well.

The Christmas Play


The first grade class prepared for the Christmas play with great enthusiasm, especially Karl. Karl was what we used to call "slow," He tried so hard to fit in, and wanted so much to help with the yearly school play,  that his teacher moved him from task to task, trying to find a place where he would fit.

Painting scenery didn't work out, his donkey looked like a dachsund, and no one knew exactly *what* his palm trees looked like.

From there he went to props, where he accidentally knocked them over, then to the choir of angels where he lost his halo, and on through the list of helpers. His teacher couldn't bear to crush his open, giving heart.

Finally, she decided to make him an innkeeper.

All he had to do was open the painted cardboard door and say gruffly, "There's no room!" and shut the door.

Rehearsals went well. Karl enjoyed being gruff and "slamming" the cardboard door as best as he could. And finally the big night arrived.

Parents dropped off excited children and found seats in the auditorium. The jumble of voices died as the curtains opened.

Backstage, Karl's eyes grew bigger and bigger as the play progressed. With everyone in costume and the bright lights on, the cardboard and bathrobes really looked like wood and eastern cloaks. He could almost hear that donkey clopping down the Bethlehem street, and didn't that man look dusty and tired, and his wife seem exhausted and hungry?

Mary and Joseph passed the first inn.

"There's no room!" the innkeeper shouted, his beard falling off as he flung the door shut.

The few steps to the next inn seemed to take all of Joseph's energy...

"Please, sir, my wife is great with child and we have no place to stay..."

"Go away! We're full up!" the next innkeeper growled.

Karl swallowed twice as the couple came towards him. He'd practiced so hard, but now the words weren't fun anymore. Suddenly he heard the knock on his door.

"Please, sir, my wife is great with child, and we have no place to stay."

Karl swallowed again. Then he forced the words out. He tried to bluster and yell, but the lump in his throat wouldn't let him.

"There's no room," he whispered, and as the tired, disappointed Joseph began to turn back, the tears in Karl's eyes overflowed.

"Wait!" he called as they began to move away, "Wait! You can have my room!" And with that he rushed through the door crying, enveloping Joseph in a big bear hug.

Pandemonium broke loose as parents laughed and cried along with him. Joseph hissed, "That's not what you're supposed to say! Lemme go!" and, finally, the teacher came onstage to comfort the sobbing Karl who would not let the struggling Joseph go free. They never did finish the play.

Some of the children say that Karl ruined the Christmas pageant that year.

Their parents, however, remember the tears in Karl's eyes and the love in his heart, and they are not so sure.

And He looked at all He created and called it good.

I took a watercolor workshop a few weeks ago.  When I was AB it was one of the things I loved most - I belonged to a calligraphy society and had the blessing of studying with some of the biggest names in the Calligraphic art world.  It was pure joy.

What is it about creating something that nurtures the heart?  Whether you do it with art or music, spray paint or pots and pans,  it leaves you with a sense of satisfaction and delight.  Two of the workshop tasks were these :

I had never drawn this way before - the techniques I learned were worth the price of the workshop. It has been several years since I was well enough to take a workshop - and I had several people praying for me so I could last for two days.  I didn't make it all the way through the second day, but did make it 3/4 of the way.  I was thrilled. There is something about calligraphy and watercolor that really speaks to me - sort of like visual poetry.  And I find that fascinating because God calls us His "poema", His poem, in the Word.  Each of us is a masterpiece of design unmatched by anything man or any other being can create.  Man thinks he's such a hot shot, but he cannot create life - even though he stridently maintains that life "just happened" on the earth and "evolved" from there.  If it was so easy, why can't he figure out how to do it? How laughable is evolution when it talks about a "simple cell" that was formed from lightning (or something -  they're not sure) striking the primordial ooze on the earth's surface?  They don't tell you that a "simple cell" has DNA, the most complicated structure man has ever seen. If even one chromosome is imperfect there are horrible anomalies in offspring. It's akin to throwing everything that you need to make a watch into a paper bag, thumping it with a mallet, and expecting a watch to fall out! That "simple cell" somehow developed, full blown, an eye.  According to evolution, anything that doesn't work gets discarded - and there are so many working components to an eye that if even one was missing the eye wouldn't work - and evolution would have discarded it.  The myths of evolution read like some fantastic science fiction, which it is!

If you think it is real, please, just for one moment consider:  there is a flower in South America whose stamens and pistil resemble a female wasp.  The male wasps emerge before the females, and, thinking that the pistils are a female, the male investigates, and in doing so pollinates the flower.  Now, imagine the odds of something like that happening.  The wasp is the lone pollinator - how did the plant survive while "evolution" did its evolving over "millions of years.?"  No one can say. 

Why is there no fossil record of one species turning into another.  Surely one lizard-becoming-a-bird took long enough to be captured by the primordial ooze!  No one can explain that.

And what about the spider that lays its eggs in a stream by blowing saliva bubbles, diving,  coming up to get more air and blowing another bubble it adds to the first, and finally, when there is enough air in the bubble, it lays its eggs there and climbs out of the water.  While it was learning this essential behavior, a  million spiders would have drowned and the others would not have been tempted to keep at such a senseless exercise.

All of these are a ginormous leap from coloring changes in moths (dark moths congregate on dark trees: change the color of the tree to white, and the moths become white, ie., the moths that survive are the light colored ones because predators eat the easily seen ones.)  There is a world of difference between a light colored surviving moth and a lizard becoming a bird.

But I digress (sorry). Learning how to capture an image and compose music are two ways the spirit soars.  I call it a sense of wonder - I feel the same way in the awesome forests of Big Sur, near Carmel and Monterrey in California.  Or standing on a boat watching two blue whales, the largest creature on earth, circle around the boat while feeding for an hour.  Why does "wonder" or an appreciation of beauty happen?  There is no evolutionary benefit from my heart being filled with wonder and joy - yet it happens to every human at one time or another.

God gives us a little taste of the joy He experienced when He molded man out of dirt and breathed life into him.  We were created in His image - and being able to feel joy in creating something is part of that image. I am so very grateful that He gives us moments when we are "surprised by joy" as CS Lewis put it.  He could have made us able to live in a white, vast wasteland like the moon.  Or a world of molten methane lakes and waterfalls like Venus.

But He didn't.  His love for beauty and perfection stirred Him to create an unimaginable wonderland in that first garden.  This earth is tainted and torn, worn with age, groaning to be delivered - and yet, how the vast stretches of unimpaired nature move us, and how we thrill to the power of gigantic surf or the colors of coral reefs.

What must Eden have been?



Why?

That seems to be the question on everybody's mind, doesn't it?

Bear with me here, I'm trying to think this through.

This week my pastor brought up the question of murmuring.  We all do it.  We compain about out aches and pains and how difficult being CI is.  And yet, the pastor said, If Jesus never did one more thing for us than He has already done in saving  us, we would have nothing to compain about for the rest of eternity.

It's had me thinking.  I'm sure it's had a lot of us at my church thinking.

God is generous with us.  From behind the filter of CI it doesn't come to mind that often.  But it's nonetheless true.  He ministers to us more than we know, and I think one of the great surprises and joys of heaven is going to be when we get to see that all the time He was right here with us, as close as breathing, keeping us safe.

But we're not safe, you say.  We're sick.

Reading Romans (Paul again!) vss.1-6 in the Modern English Translation (Berkely translation) Paul tells us that we should glory in our afflictions.

Can you imagine that?  I have, never once, considered glorying in my illness.  Yet, that's what he says:

"Since, then, we have been pronounced righteous through faith,let us have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, by whom we also obtain through faith entrance to this grace in which we stand firm, and rejoice in the hope of God's glory.  Not this alone, but we glory in afflictions as well; for we know that affliction produces patience, and patience develops a tried character, and character begets hope, such hope as does not disappoint; for God's love is poured out into our hearts by means of the Holy Spirit Who has been given to us. For when we were still helpless, Christ at the proper time died for the ungodly."

So then, our CI is working into us patience and tried character and hope - and God's love is pouring into our hearts.  Wow!  that's a lot!

Perhaps that is why God entrusted us with these afflictions.  He wants to develop in us things that we wouldn't get from a busy AB life.  Although I don't feel more patient, I trust that the Word is true, and something is developing in me that God prizes, and the means of that development is my illness.

Now, I realize, as Amy Carmichael said, that I am writing for those who know far more than I do about the awful, trampling power of pain.  She talks often about how in acceptance lies peace.  And I have found it to be true in my life

Pain draws us close to God.  CSLewis said God whispers to us in our joys, but shouts to us in our pain.   That's because when we are in pain, we hear better.  We are listening. We are not distracted by the busyness of daily living.  I know that when I was AB and out and about, working and supporting myself and "taking care of business"  I didn't listen well.  I still feel like I don't listen well, but He finds ways to speak to me - most often when I least expect it.

I  met a man at a church board meeting in Seattle whose spirit has become so very sweet through pain - it's left me deeply humbled .  He hasn't swallowed anything in over 20 years - his cancer and radiation and surgery removed his salivary glands, part of his jaw and tongue.  He speaks with slurred speach and receives nourishment through a tube, and yet he comes to Christmas dinners and smiles as others chow down and the joy just radiates from him - he still has a michievous look in his eye and is great at teasing. I have a  feeling I couldn't do that in a million years.

But God didn't call me to do that.  He didn't call me to do what you have to do each day either.  He's called each one of us to a walk that He intends to grow us up and give us wings.

Too often I forget the wings part.

The Word says all the ways of the Lord are good.  All.  Not some.  All.  Not "all except my illness."  Not "all except this part that I hate". It says "all."

So back to the original question at the top.  "Why?"

I am not a theologian.  I am a sinner saved by grace because if it wasn't for that grace, I wouldn't be saved.  But I think the "why" of illness has to do with the fact that God has a plan for our lives, for good and not evil.  He has promised to restore all the years the locust has eaten - and if CI isn't a locust, I don't know what is.  He has so many promises in His Word to sustain us and give us peace, but they can't come to us unless we accept His right to do as He wishes with us. I firmly believe He is the only cause of anything that happens in our lives.  This illness came to me directly from His hand.  It came to me for good and not for evil.  He hides treasures in the darkness the Word says - but sometimes it takes awhile for our eyes to get used to the dark.  And CI is an excellent way to teach us to see in the darkness.

Have you ever noticed that the tiniest pinprick of light shines like a beacon in the darkness?  And just think, God's being is light itself - "in Him is no darkness at all". James tell us there is no shadow of His turning - because He Himself is Light.   He is using our CI to give us keen eyesight in the darkness, to see the treasures it holds, to appreciate His light - and to form patience, and character and all the rest. 

Is that not enough reasons to answer the "why?" that the evil one whispers in our ears?