A Song in My Night

This is part of an email I sent one of my dearest friends today. She is going thru a rough spot - and so am I.

I went to do my daily read today and somehow wound up in Isaiah instead of Jeremiah - for two hours!

I am having a really really bad day, I'm not sleeping, having b/p problems and vicious headaches.. So I wound up "by mistake" @ Isaiah 51:4 " The LORD God has given me the tongue of the learned, that I should know how to speak a word in season to him that is weary" and that blessed me so - it is talking about "the Servant" which of course is Jesus. I looked up the words in Strong's, and "learned" refers to one who has been taught and discipled, and I immediately thought of "He learned obedience by the things that He suffered" - Jesus Himself went thru suffering to learn, just like us. I can't imagine having the evil one following our every step, second by second, to try and make us sin - yet Jesus went thru that, and more, to *learn* how to speak a word "in season" to the weary. The "in season" reminded me that, just like the seasons of the earth, there are seasons of the soul. Spring and Summer are full of learning, delight, and joy. He always gives us a season of mellow rest in the autumn, before the harsh darkness of winter that wearies the soul. And "weary" here means not just tired, but "faint, exhausted, fatigued." I so needed that today! So I asked Him, "did You have nasty headaches too?" And into my mind came a picture of the crown of thorns.

Talk about piercing my heart!

Then, verse after verse, He spoke a word in season to my heart. I want to share them with you, all from Isaiah:

42:8 "A bruised reed He shall not break, and a smoking flax (very dimly lit) He shall not quench" No matter how feeble our turning to Him, or how "dimly lit" our spirits are, our slightest turning to Him is encouraged, our weakest thought of Him is encouraged, and He will not turn away from me. I may get bruised, but I will not be broken; My spirit dim, but the tiniest spark will not be snuffed out.

43: 1b "Be not afraid, for I have redeemed you ( a finished work, pre-approved) I have called you *by name*." The King of the Universe personally knows my name, and calls me by it. Just think of that!!

43:4 "Because *you are precious in My eyes,* you are *honored* and I love you." Awesome!! God sees me and you as "precious" -no matter what we do or don't do, we are precious in His sight - AND *He* honors *us* AND He loves us!! Riches galore!!!

43:25 "It is I Who blot out your transgressions for My Own sake, and I will remember your sins no more." Did you catch that "for My Own sake"? It's not because we are worthy of it, or we become perfect and never sin again (yeah, sure) it's for *His Own* sake, nothing to do with us. He does it all!

45:22" I have caused your transgressions to vanish like a cloud, and your sins as a fog; return to Me, for I have redeemed you." My sins, your sins have vanished "like a fog"! Fog is featureless, dark and blurry - if the evil one keeps a list against us, even then God can't see it or read it because our sins are just clouds and fog. And His arms are always open to our return.

45:21b "There is no other God beside Me: I am a righteous and rescuing God; there is no God apart from Me." No matter how dark and difficult our way is, He is not only righteous, He is rescuing! He will come after us in our darkness, bringing light and love and rescue! An Awesome God, indeed!

53:6 "We, like sheep, have gone astray; we have turned, every one, to his own way; and the LORD has lain on Him the iniquity of us all." I have heard this verse a zillion times, yet today, it stood up and waved. Our sins, every bit of wayward iniquity in the deepest corner of our worthless hearts has been dug out and nailed to the cross. Period. (and lain spelled backwards is nail - just a thought.)

And thinking about sheep - John Muir was a shepherd for awhile, in Yosemite. He talked about how incredibly stupid sheep are. If they fall on their back when it rains, their unshaven fleece will keep them there, soaking up water, and they will open their mouths and drown. They will look for the teeniest patch of grass, and will focus only on it - stepping off a cliff they didn't "notice", walking into the jaws of a wolf, or stepping into a gopher hole, breaking a leg. They will sometimes wander away from the herd to give birth, making them easy prey. BUT they know their shepherds voice, however, if they keep ignoring his voice, he will break one of their legs, and carry them until it is healed, feeding it from his own hand, bringing it water, comforting and protecting. After that, they will never leave his side.

They are timid and afraid of every sound - they will only drink from quiet water - it has to be a still pond or they will die of thirst before they will drink. If a pack of wolves attacks the herd, they freeze with fear and make easy pickin's. If they stuck together and faced them down, they would chase them off.

Sometimes we do the same - isolate ourselves in our fear or weakness instead of seeking the Body for support - and facing the evil one with God's Word to make him flee from us.

And the shepherd becomes coated in lanolin from the sheep's wool. they wore canvas vests that would stand up on their own by the end of the season, pants and shoes slick as a whistle.

And smelly. Sheep and their shepherds smell the same - just like our sin, Jesus *became* smelly, hateful, horrific sin to ransom us. He "smelled" like us - no sweet savor, like God loves.
He really blessed my sox off today!

I hope this blessed you, too - God kept telling me to share what He gave me with you. I am praying He will bring His light into your darkness and rescue you wherever you are, calling you by name, blowing away the cloudy fog of sins that haunts you, and give you rest from your weariness.

The Pharisee

I voted for His death-
This ragged Galilean
The illegitimate son of God knows who
Spouting claims of divinity
And using every coincidence of healing
As a means to embarrass US,
The Pharisees, the Guardians of Israel.
What was I to do?
I admit he had a form of wisdom -
But instead of using it to teach,
He cloaked it all in stories - 
Interminable stories! - 
That always seemed to point at us.

I was present at his death
And laughed with the rest.
You must admit, it **was* a bit funny!
:This vagabond leader of publicans and fishermen,
Actually claiming he was God -
It didn't even bear thinking about!
But when the darkness began,
It was an eerie sort of darkness,
The laughing stopped.
Even a whisper seemed too loud.
The soldiers lit fires
And they, too, startled at every sound.
Their raucous questions and arguing
Over prisoner's possessions
Faded into the expectant darkness.
The flickering flames cast shadows,
Long and tall and wavy -
Every crackle and spark made us jump,
Adding to the strange uneasiness we felt.

Into this darkness came his cry -
He actually asked his "father" to forgive us -
What audacity!
And yet
The words were neither sarcastic nor condemning 
Not at all what you would expect.
But then,
He never was.

Suddenly
The ground began to tremble and shake
As if the earth itself
Felt the pain of the crosses
Plunged into its heart!

In an instant
All was still.
The light returned.
We blinked at each other and began to talk,
Forced at first, 
Absorbed by what we'd witnessed,

I stumbled home, exhausted -
It had been a long night
And an even longer day.
But now the Passover had come.
It was time 
To slay the sacrificial lamb.

He knew

Still meditating on Easter and this came:


He knew

He knew who they were
The ones
Who blindfolded Him
Then slapped Him, saying
"Prophesy, King of the Jews!
Who was it that struck You?"
He knew, alright.
He knew their name
Their father's name
Their spouses
Their children
He knew about the penny they stole
And hid in their possessions
So no one would know
He knew about the friend they loved
and then abandoned
Because he talked funny
He knew about the time
They back handed their mother
And then their wife
And then their children
He knew.
He knows today, O self righteous one
Who laughs at faith
And uses His Name to cuss with
And ends his sentences with "I'll be damned."
And now, as then,
He intercedes for you
He prays you will be shown wrong
Because
All this time
Through eons of nameless days
He's heard each bleat of fear
That bursts from your arrogant soul
In the darkness
When you are all alone
And although He knows it all
He loves you still.

God is good - all the time.

I've been having some interesting times lately.

Something has grown a lump on my collarbone that puts pressure on my windpipe.  My doc sent me for a CT ASAP.  And I spent  serious thought before God.

The "what ifs" started parading nonstop across my thoughts.  I am almost 66 years old, and, if you don't know, 65 is Mr. Obama's cut off for cancer support. (He and the members of congress are exempted from this law - and they have carefully not commented on the cut-off - but people have already been denied benefits and died because of it).  Anyway, I thought about it.  I know I'm tired - soul weary, sick of CFIDS, tired of it all etc etc Boo hoo poor me whine mope enough already.  I seriously don't know what I would choose.

I just read that line, and the Holy Spirit bopped me on the head.

Life is a gift.  A GIFT!  Do you hear me, soul?

Each heartbeat is a gift from God, to be lived, fully present.  Period.

We are more than conquerors!

Are we really? Do I live a conquering lifestyle?

I have two choices here.  Either God's Word is true, or it's not.

Charles Spurgeon once asked a parishioner how he was doing.
He said, "Not bad, under the circumstances."
And Spurgeon said, "What I want to know is this: what is a Christian doing under the circumstances?"

Spurgeon was no stranger to pain and difficulty.  This major saint of God suffered black depressions - a particularly painful malady.  He learned to live in God's Word.

Hear that, Soul?  He LIVED in God's Word.  He lived a long life, fighting every minute for the words to share on Sunday to people who were starved for Life.  He was sold out to God.  Period.

Sold out.

And those words he bought in the midst of a darkness so profound he fought despair - they still speak to people like me who are soul-starved and navel pondering .

For I in my cushy house with a soft as a feather bed and pain medications to take when I need to, have gone navel pondering and whining to the throne of the Living God and dared - DARED! - to mope in His presence.

It shames me that self-pity could burst out of me with the least bit of pressure - I had no idea what the tests would show, and yet I was willing to consider throwing the towel in and giving up.

Giving up before a God Who made me more than a conqueror.

More than.  You get that, Soul?  Not "just" a conqueror.  MORE THAN a conqueror.  Buck up, you soft puny thing!  Think of the Apostle Paul - scourged, imprisoned, stoned to death, shipwrecked, a day and a night floating on the waters at sea - and I just know the enemy of our souls sent some sharks to bump and terrify him especially in the dark (it gives me the shivers just to think about it!)- but like the lions in Daniel's den, angels kept their mouths shut.

And he never even mentions the scarring that would have marred his life - unyielding ropes of scars on his back accompanying every move - they would pull and itch and ache for the rest of his life.

And does he complain?

No!  A resounding No!  Instead he speaks of the power of his God to keep him whole, to equip him to survive every one of those circumstances.

He worshipped a LIVING God, a God Who bends close to hear every whisper, who promised us that Goodness and Mercy would follow us all the days of our lives - and in the Hebrew, the word for "follow" means to search diligently for.

Diligently.

So my question for you, Soul, is: which are you going to choose?  God's "more than" or "under"?

There are no other choices., Soul.

Choose.

(my test results came back negative.)

He is Risen, as He said.

Today is the most important day in Christendom.

For those of us who believe, it is the day of proof.  The day when Jesus took His life back and rose from the dead.  A day so incredible, so amazing and truly, unbelievable, unless they had seen it for themselves, they all would have been like Thomas, and demanded physical proof.

His death had been so grisly!  He had been bled, as is necessary for the Passover Lamb, by a spear thrust deep into His side..  No blood remained in a body so beaten, so crushed, so destroyed by Roman scourging and pinned to the cross for all the world to see, like an insect.  How is it possible that that beaten bloodied corpse could once again hold life?

I often meditate on those involved - we have heard the story so many times, it loses it's ability to stun or shock us, when  it should actually shake us to the core.

This year, I find myself pondering Peter's perspective.

Peter is the "everyman" who blunders and blesses his way thru the gospels, saint and sinner and bumblingly  lovable - don't you just know he was a hugger?  Grabbing his brothers in big bear hugs and laughing loud and deep in his chest?

And trying so very hard to be good.

And failing so miserably.

His first impulse is always to go for it.  To walk on water - to actually do it! - and then sink (But hey! Remember he is the only one with enough courage to even try!)  And if washing his feet was good, Lord wash all of me!  And even if the others all betray You, I never will.  Never!  Even if I die with You!

I believe that,  in preparation for His betrayal and death, His Father showed Him the details - Judas and his kiss of death, Peter and his 3 times of denial - the last with cursing to verify his lie.

So when He tried to warn them all that they would deny Him and Peter proclaimed his loyalty, thinking himself above the others in strength and love - Jesus told him how utterly he would fail.  And Peter, left open-mouthed in disbelief, had no comeback to that.

And then it happened.

Peter was carrying a sword that night - no doubt seeing himself guarding Jesus and slaying one and all to protect Him.

And once again, failing.

Instead of striking a blow fast and true and everyone drawing back in horror of the strong man, the adrenaline surging thru him made the stroke flail instead, and chopped off the ear of the poor high priest's servant.

And, in front of everybody, Jesus tells him he's missed the whole point - again - and telling him that those who live by the sword die by the sword, as He healed the man's ear.

Then he follows - Luke tells us "from a distance" - and slips into the courtyard of the high priest, hoping to blend in.  He warms himself at the fire and the denials begin.  He blusters out the first one - and then the second one comes because a servant girl recognizes the Galilean accent - so to make the third one really establish his innocence, he adds curses to it.  As he is speaking, he looks up  - and Luke tells us that at that moment, Jesus turns around and looks at Peter.

How that look must have burned itself into his memory!

He really did love Jesus.  He really had intended to stick up for Him and protect Him and die with Him - and can't quite figure out how he ended up cursing instead.  And he remembers that Jesus told him this would happen - and it pierces through to the very core of Peter's heart  - Luke says "...and going out, he wept bitterly."


What was the difference between Peter and Judas?  Both publicly betrayed Him.  Both would have given anything to undo what they had done.

One despaired, one repented.  One heart was mercenary and operated on a far different level - when he messed up, he gave up.  One bumbled a bit, but he tried - and when he failed, he tried again. Of the two, I think Judas used Jesus for what he could get - money, the prestige of hanging with the prophet, and hopefully a position in His government when He took over.  It is after Judas is rebuked publicly  for chastising Mary for anointing Jesus for His death that the betrayal comes.  Jesus said He would die - and Judas figured His ruling the empire was pretty much a wash.

So, he got a last little bit of money, and betrayed Him.

Simple economics.

And then comes Easter morn.

The sky is just starting to brighten.

His disciples have been hiding out in the upper room, the last place they were all together before the crucifixion.  They are heartbroken and wary, not knowing if the high priest is going to come after them, too.  They are still in that stunned state of shock that comes when someone dies suddenly, wondering how this could have happened?  How?  And the question the evil one whispers in the ear of everyone whose heart was broken by senseless loss: "Where was God?"  They knew He was Who He said He was.  They knew it!  Deep down in their souls they believed.  He couldn't have lied.  He just couldn't have - not that Man.  Maybe someone else, but not Him.
 
Not Him.

And among them, Peter grieved.  They all knew he had denied Him.  Perhaps they were trying to console him, telling him to remember that Jesus had prayed for him, that Jesus wasn't surprised by what happened.  We all ran away, Peter.  It happened the way Jesus said it would.  You're no worse off than any of us.

And into this room full of stupefying grief and loss comes Mary Magdalene, weeping, crying out that someone stole His body, the tomb is empty, we went to prepare Him properly for burial and the stone was rolled away!

John and Peter looked at each other.

Then they both took off running.

In my mind's eye, I can see it: a new day just beginning.  The birds starting to chirp and move about.  The air cool against their skin, rustling in the trees in short bursts.  Hardly anyone else is stirring.  All they hear is the sound of their sandalled feet, hitting the cobblestone streets as they run, the air rushing around them as they sprint for the tomb.

John, the younger man, reaches the tomb first.  He looks in, but hangs back for Peter.

John sees the linen He was in, still wrapped up, but no body in them.  They lie empty, like a cocoon - not strewn around the room as they would have been if the body had been stolen.  They lie where His body rose up through them, leaving them behind!

The tomb wasn't open because someone stole Him.  The tomb was open so they could look in and See!

Peter arrives then, rushing into the tomb.  He stands there, sides heaving, brow scrunched up, trying to figure it out.

He looks at John.

John looks at him.

And slowly he begins to understand.

I can only imagine the joy that lights their eyes - and the rest of the women begin to clamor that two angels were there, telling them that He is risen, as He said!  And Mark adds, the angels said to tell the disciples "...and Peter" that He goes before them to Galilee.

"...and Peter..."

How tender is the One Who died for us!

Those two words must have pierced Peter with hope and joy.  How he must have said them, over and over to himself..

He was forgiven!

Jesus still accepted him!  He wasn't to be an outcast among those who followed Him - Jesus still included him, still wanted him to come to Galilee with the others.

And all the pieces start to fit.

All the prophecies, all the stuff Jesus kept trying to tell them.  That Messiah wasn't only an earthly King - he was the Passover Lamb.  They remembered John the Baptist - how he'd said "Behold the Lamb of God - Who takes away the sin of the whole world" - it fits, it all fits!

I cannot imagine, as much as I try, the joy that would come with the realization.  These were men who'd been taught the Torah from the moment of birth - their mothers whispering the she'ma over and over into their ears:: "Hear O Israel, the LORD God, He is One."

And they now knew He was the One - it was all true.

AND THEY HAD LIVED IT!

He had risen, as He said!

Let that drum into your heart!  Let it throb in your soul! Let the reality begin to sink in deep - as new and fresh as that first Easter morning:

HE IS RISEN, AS HE SAID!!

ALLELUIA! 

Late night meanderings...

It's after 3 o'clock in the morning and I am awake, battling low blood sugar and pain.

Again.

Two weeks out of the hospital with a bowel obstruction and still feeling weak and useless.  This was the first time I actually thought I might die from this illness.  I felt sicker than ever I can remember feeling before.  Calvin Miller said he could hear the hooves of the black horse clicking in the night, and I now know what he meant.  There comes a moment, perhaps several in a lifetime, when you feel you could reach out and tear the gossamer veil that stands between life and Life.

I am still trying to regain some of the energy I lost, but so far have not.  My headaches have upped a notch or two.  My muscles and joints have joined in to keep the headaches company. And in the midst of all of this useless feeling and physical pain, an amazing thing is happening.

God is answering my prayers to know His heart.

In tiny increments, to be sure, but there is an opening where before there was none.  It came on my 3rd night without any sleep - having blood drawn or meds given or blood tested so frequently that any dozing was immediately interrupted.  I couldn't stand any light, so I couldn't read or use the computer or tv or radio (isn't it amazing what hospitals offer at the bedsides these days??) So I lay in the dark, praying, and praising, and singing in my heart or in sign language or whispering into the darkness.

And I felt an overwhelming tenderness fill my heart for my King.

It brought tears to my eyes.

And that night, everything changed.

Physically, the pain went away, the blockage cleared, the next day I had a hoot of a nurse that brought cheerfulness with her competence and made my day actually enjoyable.  I was never so grateful in my life to be allowed to shower.  To simply brush my teeth.  To enjoy a serving of sugar free strawberry jello. A warm blanket.  Ice chips.

Bodily functions began kicking to life. My stuffy nose cleared and I was able to breathe freely.  No more throwing up or severe nausea.  The nurse got me an air bed instead of the cement slab the hospital bed felt like.

And both of my doctors arrived at the same time to let me go home!!!.

Hallelujah!!!  It was like He was stuffing as many blessings into my day as possible.  Two different friends came in to pray with me.  Then the hospital chaplain came in, annointed me with frankincense from Jerusalem (his bro lives there) and prayed over me with strength and compassion.

And added to all that, I opened the Word and learned a new truth.  Reading in Joshua, I read about the Captain of the Host of the LORD - and suddenly the verse where Jesus tells Pilate that even now He could ask His Father for legions of angels and He would be given them - of course He would - for Jesus is the Captain of the Host of the LORD!  I have been reading thru the entire Bible every year for forty years - and until that moment, I had never seen the connection.

And that is one of the many reasons I continually journey from Genesis to Revelation, cover to cover, once every year.

Because it's not just "a book".  The Bible is a Living Book.  And every year I see new truths and learn some fascinating things, and find amazing facets of personalities I never saw  before.  And oh, how it delights my spirit and fills some empty, aching spot with tender wholeness.

so now I am home, I have passed the crisis - but I still hear the clicking of hooves in the stable next to mine - the black horse of death remains in the neighborhood, never far from my consciousness.  There are still things I would like to accomplish - I would love to write a book of devotionals, acquire some expertise at watercolor, publish some poetry, write an allegory that has been rattling around in my brain for 40 years - to which I recently lost     the outline and opening  chapters that I had written.  I open my Bible and the sands of the Negev spill out.  The people in the Book, they are alive to me - their relationships, their cultures, their bravery and absolutely unbelievable levels of occasional idiocy comfort me - because in spite of them, they are loved.  I see the hills and fields of Israel, the animals and birds, the foliage, the river, the Dead Sea - to visit Israel is to fall in love.  The land calls to you ever after - And once you have been there, reading the Bible goes from black and white to living color.

For this one tiny nation is the spot in all the earth where God chose to put His Name, and to provide for His people.  And the way each country treats this speck of land will determine its future as either a rewarded sheep or a condemned goat.

It has been said that  "modern" man  seeks to live a life with no consequences.  He thinks by passing laws to make sure his sins are not preached about and no matter how foul and harmful the sin, he shouldn't be made to pay for it. His lifestyle is his choice.

In that, he is correct.  It is his choice.  One of his choices leads to hell, and if that is what he chooses, that is what he will receive.  And whether he will accept it or not, choices do have consequences.

That is truth.

And saying, "I don't believe that way" doesn't make it any less true, or negate the consequences of his actions any more than standing in front of a speeding locomotive and saying "I don't believe this is harmful"  will prevent the locomotive from running him down and crushing the life out of him.

So in this time of enforced resting before enough strength is recouped to actually be of use to someone,  I am cultivating a grateful heart for all things great and small, and trying to ensure that my actions will bring with them loving consequences, careful choices, and blessings to those around me, and that I may never become a burden to those I love.

I am counting on the sound of those hooves clicking nearby to remind me that time is short, too short to be murmured  over.  The difficulties each day carries in its back pocket are simply disguised gifts, chances to see Him part my personal Red Sea and scatter the stones of Jericho's walls once again.

And until that day comes, I am praying to keep my eyes open and attentive , looking to see the blessings He has liberally sprinkled through each minute with great tenderness, and worshiping Him in return from a heart filled with joy.

                           

The ache that never goes away.

One of my favorite people in the world got married last weekend.

God gave me the gift of being present.  To share their joy.  To praise Him for His kindness and love in bringing them together.  The simple beauty of one heart being joined to another for forever.  The joy beating in them -in their faces, in the way they touch, in the way they walk together, in the way their eyes soften when they glance at one another.

It was the perfect wedding - not too fancy, but elegant, not too casual, but fun and people friendly.The loveliest bridesmaids on the face of the planet, with groomsmen to match (including her brother, looking grownup and solemn.)

Like I said, perfect.

I first saw her when she was 3 days old - when I took her in my arms, newly minted, her eyes never left my face. For at least 15 minutes. She had never seen me in her short life, and yet she connected - and stayed connected.

That's unusual in a newborn.

And I thought, "We're in for it now..."

And I was right.

She grew into a horse loving girl and a ribbon loving young lady - with a sharp wit and a generous heart, loyal to her friends, and - eventually - proud of her younger brother and careful of him.  She has grown into a young woman who works hard and plays with abandon . She chose a profession in which she could serve others.

And so did her groom.

The new Mrs. Northrup

Of course, she was the loveliest bride. Ever.  











And her joy when she finally reached her groom was evident.

As was the groom's when he first saw her.

She married a prince of a man - so, although I knew it all along, that officially makes her a princess.

Why is it so hard to let them go?  Is it the way God sees us - making decisions, waiting for us to make the right ones, the ones He can bless freely, the ones that further His plans for us?   Does His heart ache with joy when He joins two of His children forever?

It's a good ache.

But an ache, nonetheless.

We older folks know hard times will come to them - as they do to everyone at one time or another.  We pray for their ability to submit themselves to God and each other.  We pray we can somehow help them on their way.  We pray they will grow in wisdom and trust of each other, that they will use adversity to grow them closer, not apart, that they will always remember the love that drew them to one another, and not forget it in the midst of mundane, nit-picking everyday irritations.

And the ache - well, it never seems to really go away.  I look at  her and still see that five year old munchkin, and the seven year old, who had to learn to live with asthma, the new teen navigating all those foreign interactions with the opposite sex, her first boyfriend, her struggles and triumphs.  Her heels got higher, and her loveliness kept pace.  I looked away for a second and she had become a grown woman, with an open, giving heart. From her infancy I prayed that God would bring her a man that would love Him, love her, and have a good sense of humor - and that He would break any relationship that was not of Him.

He faithfully answered .

 I do not know Josh well yet, but I recognize that all important heart, open and willing to give, loving Him, loving her.

And I thank Him for sending the prince He had created for her - and for creating her for him - and for giving them the wisdom to recognize each other in a world that increasingly locks Christ out of its affairs and decisions.

And tho I keep tearing up just remembering the wedding, my heart is full of joy for them, impressed by the girlfriends she gathered round her and the colors and gowns she chose.

Impressed.  But not surprised.  She did it her way - and it was lovely.

Congratulations, dearest Munchkin. May you and your prince walk together in joy forever.