Oh the voices…so many trying to drown out the Truth. Shutter my ears, Jesus, to the rambling, the opining, the gaslighting…to the celebrities and political pundits competing for air space. For that’s exactly what it is: AIR! And fleeting.
Jesus, help me to listen to the one in the wilderness: turn, prepare, swim against the others. Incline my ear and my whole heart to you, Jesus, for you are the Word, truly there in the beginning and most victoriously appearing in the end.
Maranatha.
I bumped into a couple of statements this weekend.
“The truth is most often quiet; lies are loud.” Source unknown.
It does seem like lies shout the loudest; half-truths, misrepresentations, and outright lies, meant to create doubt within us, do overshadow truth. I’m not good enough, I need _____ to be complete, and most dangerously, it’s really about me. How many more could we add to this list of deception?
Truth, often whispering, waits for us to find it; it doesn’t rely on exaggeration or manipulation. I’ve also found truth speaks a lot louder when we quiet our souls and plug into a reliable source. A lot of my “Mondays with Jesus” posts morph into letters I’m leaving my grandchildren. I’ll emphasize this one and the need to always plug into the only reliable source for all life’s decisions: the Triune God. Acts 17:11 comes to mind: Now these Jews were more noble than those in Thessalonica; they received the word with all eagerness, examining the Scriptures daily to see if these things were so. And of course the words in Jeremiah: You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you…Jer.29.
And the other thought comes from Father David Guffey: Jesus can look into somebody’s heart and see what they need most. He was referencing the healing of the paralytic when Jesus says, after acknowledging his friends’ faith, “Friend, your sins are forgiven.” He knew what the man really needed: redemption; the ability to walk was but an extra dose of compassion.
So on this Monday, I can’t take my eyes off of my Savior who sees my inmost need. The volume’s turned up, drowning out the lies.
Yesterday, I stopped for a few minutes to watch my pastor engage with his people. He had traveled much of the week to the island to preach revival services. The drive through afternoon traffic after a busy day can be exhausting; I make it often. No one would have judged him for slipping out after services, but there he was, making space for those he loved and others he would grow to better know.
Making space…it’s a rarity these days. Sure, we each have so many demands on our day that we’ve simply run out of room for anything else. Lately, I’ve been taking inventory of my 24 hours, discovering a lot of what fills them is desire-led and ego-driven. Like when I pour extra time into a project just to make me look better or chase a new want or temptation, each eating away at the limited day and adding not one precious thing to eternity. Ouch! So what’s my point? Some things are of course, non-negotiable, but that includes making room for God to use us for his purposes. When I examine the Gospels, I find Jesus living a rhythm that welcomed interruption and spontaneity and was relationship-led.
Take the time Jesus was on his way to heal a synagogue leader’s daughter when a woman with a 12 year bleeding problem touched his garment and she was instantly healed. Now, that’s an interrupted schedule. I suppose I would have kept pushing on to my “important” meeting, but not Jesus. He made space for a soul changing conversation, taking time to commend her for her faith, clear up any misconceptions about her healing and offer this woman a blessing of peace.
And then, there’s the Gentile woman who begs Jesus to heal her daughter. (By the way, Jesus was not calling her a dog, but simply clarifying his mission. Oh those pesky Greek words!) Again, He stretched time to explore her intentions and observe her faith. Her soul was forever changed as well.
What if I intentionally freed even 10 minutes in between each obligation and let God run with it. Ask Him to own that space. Whose soul would be touched? This I do know, others would be seen! Just like yesterday in the church’s coffee spot…a shepherd with his flock.
How long O LORD? How long must I have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me? (Ps. 13) I imagine many in Israel join the psalmist David in asking these questions on this somber anniversary. Though the whole earth groans, today my thoughts settle on Israel and I prayerfully wait for the peace of Jerusalem. Waiting for the LORD to lift those remaining hostages out of their pits of despair, for reservists to return to their families and jobs, for the night sky to light up with heavenly stars, not man-made missiles.
I pray each misplaced mama, papa and child in this shattered region knows that God dwells with them in their wait. Even to the depths, He is there! (Ps. 139). As if He climbs in the pit to be near each before He reaches in to rescue. Only our omnipresent God can give such comfort.
This past week, I took my eyes off Jesus more times than I wish to admit; I shifted my focus to the waves of our tumultuous world. I left my position at the feet of Jesus, trading wonder and peace for angst. I didn’t deliberately decide to go wave-watching; I simply caught a glimpse of the chaos and chose to linger awhile. Forgetting to run back, I lost my view of the King of the Universe who holds all things together. Wave-watching is mesmerizing, addictive, captivating; before I knew it, my posture was completely off kilter. Silly things were irritating me and important matters loomed large; my flesh was winning the battle. I had left my joy at the feet of sovereign, compassionate, patient Jesus to watch waves I could not control. I did not drown, but I was waterlogged with sarcasm, judgement, fear. This morning, this imperfect vessel is again planted right back in front of the only One who pours life into her. It’s a lovely gaze!
“I had my life planned out,” she shared; I don’t think I heard another word after that. So did I!
I never planned to divide life by b.c. and a.c; before cancer/after cancer. We had cared for parents and grandparents with the dreaded diagnosis, but our family regrouped and returned to our life as we had known it.
Cancer was a season, not a lifetime companion. Gene mutations lived in a remote lab, not in my closest people. Scans were annual annoyances, not riddled with anxiety and IV’s were for blood donations, not life-sucking chemo infusions. A June 2013 diagnosis of pancreatic cancer changed everything and then, came breast cancer.
What is your before and after? Divorce, miscarriage, addiction, a career loss? How do you make a meaningful life amidst broken plans? I’ve been sitting with Jeremiah and the exiles in chapter 29 this week; every time I read it something new jumps off the page. For example, the Message translation includes a clause in verse 11: God promises, “I know what I’m doing. I have it all planned out.” His after holds great promise; it’s your starting point, your foundation!
And this grabbed me: plant something new. Stop trying to make the shards of a past life sprout and start growing something new and beautiful. Plant a new relationship, a talent, something! Nourish it with love and hope and watch what God does. Read it for yourself; you’ll find inspiration.
This past weekend I met Doris, a brain cancer warrior, in Lynn Eib’s book, When God & Cancer Meet. This is how she loved her a.c.
life: Are you convinced that neither chemo nor radiation, neither scans nor surgery, neither good news, nor bad news, neither predictions nor unanswered prayers, nor anything else in all the world of cancer, will be able to separate you from the love of God that is yours in Christ Jesus?
Now, you fill in your own after and let’s both rest in His love and better plan.
The fall semester has begun and I’ve settled into a rhythm. Quiet Mondays after a hectic weekend and before a challenging midweek. If the Lord calls me to write, I suspect it will be a collection of thoughts that may not necessarily string together in a polished fashion, but a patch of thoughts that will guide my week. Monday musings….
One of my favorite things to do is to find an obscure book at a secondhand store. I usually ask God if He has something in mind for me before I begin my fun search. Last week, I found a thin book nestled between some heavy theology works: When God and Cancer Meet by Lynn Eib, a pastor’s wife and oncology counselor. She shares some poignant stories of her work with former patients; this one hit home! She writes of Lyle, a Leukemia patient, and his return to God. One of his quotes shook me: “I can’t believe I left the body of Christ.” Sit with that for a moment. It’s huge!
My parents left church after a conflict over tithing; by the grace of God, I found Jesus on the first day of my junior year through a little tract being passed out by Young Life. But I missed out on the life-changing experience in my early years. I have dear family and friends who too have left the body of Christ (that term sounds a lot more personal than church, doesn’t it?) I’m undone thinking of the remorse they might feel if their wake-up call comes late in life. Oh, Father, bring them back soon to the deep joy of meeting You in a fellowship, a body, of others seeking to know You more. This is my urgent prayer!
That brings me to my second reflection for this week: Jesus really does invite everyone to his Table. That includes the poor in spirit….those of us that recognize our heart’s poverty and dependence on God. In October, my church is offering a “Gathering in the Gym” on Sunday mornings. I can’t wait to see who Jesus has invited to his new table of worship, restoration, and life in Him. I truly believe this will be one of his finest fruits from our recent season of revival.
I’m reminded of these old hymn lyrics: earnestly, tenderly, Jesus is calling…Come Home!
I like having a plan and sticking to it. Since I’ve been praying this small but powerful prayer each morning, I’ve had to relinquish my plans a lot! “More of You, LORD, less of me.”
I spent a grueling month preparing to teach the CARS section of the MCAT to a student. I had devised a solid plan to teach her how to “fish” for correct cues instead of just memorizing the passages and corresponding answers. In short, I was let go. Fast forward to last night….a couple from her country of birth appeared in class. One month in the States and no English! What? MCAT to the very basics? “More of Me, less of you, Robin” It was so fun and I have new friends, strangers to our culture. My plan was thrown out; Jesus was very present.
On the same night, I was rushing to prayer meeting, my favorite hour of the week, and a friend stopped me. She needed help and prayer straight away. I did not make it to the chapel; God had planned a “when two” gathering right there on the sidewalk.
I had a predetermined plan for the evening; God had a better one. I was reminded that church is not always a physical place to assemble and serve, but a sacred space where the Holy Spirit collectively lives among His believers….He wants to move.
I relocated my bird feeder yesterday. It was hanging from a shepherd’s hook away from the tree and had become an easy landing pad for the big birds. The doves had moved in, hoarding the real estate, and the former residents were visiting less often….only a quick snack and run. What a beautiful surprise after hanging it in my Crepe Myrtle; the smaller birds began feasting, nestled among the branches. My little friends seemed happier and more comfortable sitting on their perches.
I’ve been limping through life lately. I suppose that’s not totally out of the ordinary for a full-blooded empath. Cancer and chemo stinks; global hardships endured by friends leave me helpless. I’ve been on the brink of walking away from some important ministries. Hey, I’m 70 now; don’t I deserve to take it easy? That might be my plan, but not God’s.
Last Sunday, our youth minister threw down the gauntlet..Just obey, he preached. I was questioning whether I even had the knowledge and maturity to continue, but God said, “Just show up! Minister in your quirky way and I’ll use it. All I want is for you to plant seeds and I’ll water them.”
Last weekend, when I wanted to pull the covers up over my head, I planted real seeds for a hurting friend and me. My first wimpy thought was, “They’ll probably not grow.” Well, two days later…they sprouted! I put out sugar water and the hummingbirds showed up and more importantly, I said yes to two ministries…little steps of obedience turn into long obedience. I’m still limping, but with trust and expectation.
My family’s first bomb dropped in our lap in June 2013, terminal pancreatic cancer, and then again early in 2024, stage 2 breast cancer caused by a broken BRCA2 gene. Later last spring, a third bomb landed; another sibling receives the news: positive for BRCA2 mutation. Last week, we finally received confirmation that Rob carried this horrible mutation; that one ripped a piece of my heart.
I have had a week to sit with it and this is what I have gleaned: I’ve stopped looking for guarantees in this earthly life unless they come from the Word of God. I am guaranteed that Almighty God will sustain me no matter what happens and I find my peace in just that. I can ride that Truth into eternity. I have no assurances when it comes to cancer; none of us do. Micro-metastases can grow in spite of all the cancer-killing agents and God can prevent a weak gene from misbehaving. No one is handed a never-cancer pass; it will most likely visit every family in some form.
I still hurt and feel great sadness, but I trust God with the outcome. God is our only guarantee.
It was confirmed yesterday; Rob carried a broken gene that ended many of our dreams: planned retirement and ministry together, co-grandparenting, life without overarching concern for the health of some of our children and grandchildren who carry the altered gene.
So this is how our enemy wants to wear me down? Like so many of my friends, I’m not rising often from my knees these days; our kids are fighting serious battles. Families are torn and worn by emotional shrapnel, the fallout of a broken world.
Yesterday, I was staring into a deep pit, tempted to stand in agreement with our arch-enemy. YOUR GOD IS NOT BIG ENOUGH! But a dear brother in Christ stopped to comfort and speak truth. He kept reminding me that God is so much bigger than the chaos. Yes, the Maker of DNA and Creator of exquisite genetic sequences surely can redeem unwanted interruptions in a harmful gene and He can save our children from the fallout. Our God is mighty to save and his plans are good. I must trust that God knows what He purposes to accomplish on an eternal scale.
So today I pray as He protects my loved ones and I leave the future in his Almighty Hands. I remind myself that even though Rob did not live out our small earthly dreams, his faith has been made sight, God’s biggest work realized and no brokenness to be found!
Pulling weeds this warm humid morning; what a grimy job! After a while I looked down at my calves and feet, finding them covered in sweat, soil and a few mosquito bites. Even wearing work gloves, I had to dig out dirt from underneath my nails. First thought: I really like to be clean, dry and cool.
Then I thought of Jesus. He stepped out of Heaven and spent most of his earthly life dirty and uncomfortable from the elements….for me. From smelly, scratchy hay to long dusty roads, blistered feet, days on days in the same soiled garments and rarely a roof over his head. He definitely was not spoiled with the comforts we so take for granted.
I usually find myself moved by his miracles and healings and of course, his agony on the cross, but recently the ordinary has struck me in a fresh, personal way. I’m amazed by his willingness to lay down Heaven to rescue us. I certainly don’t think he used superpowers to deal with somatic discomforts; He felt every pang of hunger, every sore muscle, deep exhaustion and head to toe filth at times. The spotless Lamb probably desired a deep long soak and not necessarily in the Galilean waters.
Which makes me wonder how often did he think about the purity and extravagance of home, his Heaven? When He departed to pray, did Jesus long for perfect shalom with His Father; how far back did His memories reach?
I’m unraveled by a God who exchanges everything for broken children like us? Wallow in what Jesus endured and see if gratitude and love springs forth!
Three thoughts: look up, look forward, look within.
The withdrawal is real! Backstory: Facebook now wants me to give a photo identification to authentic my new account. The red flag? The message uses British English terms (i.e. driving licence.) Could it be associated with the Australian hacker? I can’t even investigate it, because I can’t reach a human at Meta! I can’t risk it, but it’s tempting; I’m addicted to connection.
That’s not a truly bad thing; Scripture and even neuroscience tells us we were made for relationship. I just wonder if I’ve replaced real live connection with a phone screen. It is safer, more convenient, but probably not how God designed us. Social media is a lot like a virtual travel documentary or zoom class. One can learn a lot about the region or subject, it’s convenient, inexpensive and pajama pants are allowed, but where are the smells, the touch? No gentle breezes, smell of fresh pine, no hugs! Social media definitely has a place; I have friends who use it so wonderfully, encouraging others and bringing beauty to our broken world. Face to face is just a better connection for me and now a total necessity!
So I’m accepting the challenge of creative connection. Today, I’m making a surprise porch visit to drop off birthday goodies, I’m exploring a ESOL ministry, but most importantly, I’m trading in the scrolling for mindful listening for God’s voice. I’m not even sure what that will look like, but I’m excited about a deeper connection with Him.
I’d love to hear your thoughts.
“And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony.” Colossians3:14-ESV
This was the last photo I posted before my fore-mentioned account was stolen. I saw the long arduous road ahead, but was trusting God to guide me down it. Within hours of posting, life changed, and I was completely dependent on Him, clinging for dear life!
The nefarious actors tried to change my identity to a money-hungry woman, peddling prosperity gospel. This post signals they were unsuccessful, so let’s get back to Truth.
Some random thoughts to begin. I’m learning a lot about my real identity after being badly shaken. The removal of social media and my utilities cut off for a week due to Hurricane Beryl left me alone and lonely. A few questioned my motives after reading some of the posts added by my impostor; I felt broken and misunderstood. To whom do you turn when your identity is being questioned? To the Maker who formed you, of course!
During the silent hours, God reminded me of exactly who I am in Him.
I am seen.
I am deeply loved.
I am chosen.
I am pursued.
I am fully known by an all-knowing Father.
I am a new creation.
I am His.
I am redeemed.
I am forgiven.
I am secured.
I will never be forsaken!
The only scarlet I wear is the blood of my Jesus.
And there’s still a lifetime of identity to discover; what would you add?
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