dear rory,
sometimes I amaze myself...
I am really good at giving advice.
I mean, not to "toot my own horn", but
HONK HONK.
I always know how to handle situations...
unless it's my own.
***
yesterday Pastor talked about the Israelites.
as he recounted their repeated complaints, I felt myself almost squirming with contempt.
those idiots.
one minute, they're marching out of slavery towards a land that was promised to their forefathers by God Almighty. the next minute, they're watching God pound the waters of the Red Sea over the heads of one of the most powerful armies in the world. and the next minute...
they're thirsty.
hold the camels.
we had better turn around and offer ourselves as slaves in Egypt again. sure things weren't always easy there- our sons were being killed, we were worked almost to death under the boiling hot, desert sun, and our Pharaoh despised us.
but at least we weren't thirsty.
good thing God has more patience than I do. instead of striking them all down as I might have, God commanded Moses to strike a rock.
and what do you know? the God of miracles performed a miracle. out of the rock came water.
***
Sunday after church I had a long talk with a friend.
I found myself giving advice.
because I'm so good at that.
I was in the middle of saying something about not letting hard times make us bitter or angry-that God has a reason for the trials- when I stopped. I heard something quiet. I think it was God laughing.
***
you may remember that back in the winter, I was confined to a hospital room for several days and that I wasn't happy about it.
what you probably don't know is that while I was pouting in the hospital, God was preparing to show me that I too am an Israelite...
the hospital cart rolled down hallway after hallway. I watched people's faces as I rolled past. they were giving me a look that I had given many a time to strangers in hospital beds. the look of "I wonder if you are about to die." it's an easy look to accidentally give, but a harder one to receive. it made me want to make a monkey face at them. but I was tired, so I just stared blankly back, probably confirming their saddest imaginings.
the cart reached Destination MRI waiting room, and I said goodbye to my family and Laura. they smiled. I smiled.
but I was scared as anything. and I was angry. and bitter. where was God taking me? I just wanted to be comfortable again.
I looked up at the man wheeling me to the MRI room.
"don't be afraid," he said.
"there are a lot of friends praying for me," I answered. because that sounded like the right answer. he probably didn't want to hear my bitterness and anger.
but God saw my heart. and God struck a rock.
"I'll be praying for you too," the man said.
I licked up that drip of water and let it sink into my heart a second before being helped into the room and asked to lie down on a bench-like table.
"will my iPod be able to play during the scan?" I asked an older nurse.
"sure!" he said and smiled. he took my iPod and hooked it up to a device that would send the music through my protective mask during the hour and a half procedure.
I looked back at the cave I would be trapped in and took a deep breath. my claustrophobia isn't a huge fan of caves. especially hospital caves.
but then I was in. I heard the first few notes from my music come through...
followed by ceaseless hammering. I couldn't hear my music due to the hammering of the machine I was trapped in.
at first, I was fine. but forty minutes into it, I was feeling almost frantic. and I was feeling miserable for myself again. poor, poor me.
As the thunder rolls, I barely hear You whisper through the rain, "I am with you".
the hammering had stopped. "Praise You in this Storm" by Chris Tomlin filled my ears instead.
I will praise You in this storm. I will lift my head. You are who You are, no matter where I am.
Moses was beating at that rock. and water was gushing out.
And every tear I cry, You hold in Your hand. You've never left my side.
the hammering didn't start again...
And though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm.
... until the song had ended. then it continued without ceasing until I was taken out.
***
God was still gently laughing.
Pastor was still preaching.
and I was still an Israelite.
I watched the sun setting through my friend's eyelashes, as I heard the advice come from my own hypocritical lips.
you see, in the past few weeks, I have fallen into an angry and bitter net once again. I'm not sick this time. I'm struggling to forgive.
I have let hurt turn into bitterness. and I have let sadness turn into anger towards God.
do you know, I actually thought to myself for a moment that it would be rather nice not to have to worry about God and His commands? (please gasp here.) do you know, I actually thought to myself that maybe I would be better off without Him since He doesn't seem to care anyways? (please gasp louder here)
in other words...
"God, I am thirsty. why have You brought me here? it would be better for me to march back to Egypt and become a slave again."
*face palm*
***
my struggle continues even as I type these words. is it possible that I still feel angry?
I am an Israelite at heart.
I am wandering through the wilderness. the unknowns and hardships scare me. lately, it doesn't seem to matter that what I am leaving behind me isn't worth returning to. it doesn't seem to matter that what God is leading me towards is worth dying for.
lately, I just don't like being thirsty. but I also don't like being an Israelite.
because I know deep down that God is the only one who can gush those thirst-quenching waters at me. He can bring healing. from a lifeless rock. to a hurting heart.
***
looking at my friend, I suddenly stopped giving advice and asked her to pray for me.
"I'll be praying for you too," I promised.
as I hugged her, I realized...
we're all Israelites. we're making this journey towards the "promised land" together. it's rough. it's rocky. it stinks at times.
but we have left our slavery to sin behind us. we are marching, walking, sometimes inching our way on our bellies towards the end goal.
we fall. we thirst. we fail.
God catches. God quenches. God in His mercy forgives.
I lift my eyes unto the hills,
where does my help come from?
my help comes from the Lord,
the Maker of Heaven and earth.
please pray. I'm praying for you, my fellow marchers, as well.
love,
muffin
Showing posts with label battles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label battles. Show all posts
6.11.12
4.3.12
thoughts from a crazy person
dear rory,
this is going to be a highly un-polished letter, so please forgive me now. I am so tired, but I wanted to share a conversation I had with my grandma tonight. maybe it will somehow be as much of a reminder to you as it was to me. and if not... if you already knew all of this stuff... then uh... sorry. I am a slow learner sometimes.
the conversation went like this:
“so do you have any questions YOU want to ask the doctor tomorrow?” my grandma looked at me from across the kitchen table, pen in hand, with a list of questions her and my mother had already written lying before her. the questions included what my new diet would consist of, how long it would take until full recovery, what physical exercises I should be doing, and a lot of other medical things that I had tuned out while pretending to listen.
I started back to reality at my grandma’s voice. my first impulse was to answer her jokingly by saying, “yeah, ask the doctor if we can include chocolate in the diet somehow.”
instead I thought (you heard that right. please be impressed by this rare occassion ;).
DID I have any questions?
“I have a question,” I finally replied, “but it’s more for you than for the doctor.”
she raised her eyebrows in anticipation and set down her pen.
“do you think this doctor will take me seriously? most doctors have started out their sessions almost as if they think I am making everything up. by the end of the appointment, I can tell they believe me, but those first few minutes of being treated like a liar or a child are humiliating.”
my own voice surprised me. it sounded shaky as though I were about to cry.
my grandma was quiet for a moment. “renee,” she said at last, “do you ever gage people and their opinions by percentage?”
“what do you mean?”
“I mean that if somebody said that he had heard that balancing ten plates on your head will cure you of a disease, what would you rank your belief in that statement percentage wise? would you give that 2% of your trust? what if you heard from a more reliable source all about a treatment that had been found to cure most cases of that disease? Would you give that 60% of your trust?”
I was still feeling mystified.
“renee. give God 100% of your trust. if the doctor doesn’t believe you or your symptoms at first, don’t let that drag you down. know that God, who made you, knows what is wrong and has the ability to heal you. let Him be your rock. don’t rest solely upon what others say or think about your sickness. don’t rest solely upon others opinions. rest upon God. God knows.”
I thought about this for a moment. during the past few weeks, I have been feeling like maybe I’m crazy. I know that something is wrong with my body- staying in bed and hanging out on the couch all day is enough indication that something is not right- but what with my test results coming back normal, I have been feeling, yes, grateful, but also phony. thoughts have kept slipping into my mind making me doubt myself. making me feel like maybe I’ve just been being a big baby and if I could just get my act together, I would be better in no time.
and yet the truth is, I am not well. I feel happier in spirit than I did a week or two ago, but tonight my legs began hurting again like crazy and my right foot went all tingly. I am weak. I am tired. my vision is blurry. something is wrong, but nobody knows what.
I have faced many critical doctors, and I feel more worn out with each one. this morning I told my dad that if anyone at church said something about me faking this or just wanting attention I would start crying. (just so you know, nobody did. I love you all.) I have started ranking people’s opinions at a high percentage rate, and I’ve been letting my own doubts get to me. I have stopped looking to God for 100% of all the strength, comfort, and support I need. and doing that has left me feeling empty.
I need to find my refuge in the Creator-not the created.
my grandma’s words struck me hard. I felt as though a burden was lifted, no, knocked off my shoulders. suddenly I remembered that no matter what happens, no matter how long I am sick, no matter if the doctors ever find what is wrong, no matter what others may say, I can rest in knowing that God knows all about what I am feeling, what is going on in my body, why this is happening, and how it will resolve. He’s got it under control, even if all the doctors in the world don’t. even if I feel crazy. even if some may think I’m crazy.
I looked back into my grandma’s eyes and tried to keep the tears out of my own.
“I think I had forgotten that,” I said. “thank you for reminding me.”
she went on to pray for me. praying that I would put on the full armor of God and that I would trust Him and look to Him alone.
and now here I am in bed. writing this all out, because I am a dunce and would forget most of the conversation by morning.
I don’t want to forget this conversation. I want to remember it.
if I could just stop forgetting how awesome God is, I would be a lot better off! maybe I’ll make a sign with the words “Come on you big dummy! Remember that God is in control” written backwards on it, tape it to my forehead, and carry a mirror around with me to look into and remind myself.
of course, then I would be giving the doctors a good reason to think I’m crazy. ;)
well, I’m off to dream world.
nightynight,
muffin
ps- I just have to say thank you, thank you, thank you to my dear friends who have been praying for me. I love you all and I appreciate the prayers more than you know.
pps- no one send me any more chocolate. I can't eat it and watching others eat it... well... it's just not fun. ;)
ppps- maybe my next post should be on the joy of seeing others happy? ......... nahhhh.
this is going to be a highly un-polished letter, so please forgive me now. I am so tired, but I wanted to share a conversation I had with my grandma tonight. maybe it will somehow be as much of a reminder to you as it was to me. and if not... if you already knew all of this stuff... then uh... sorry. I am a slow learner sometimes.
the conversation went like this:
“so do you have any questions YOU want to ask the doctor tomorrow?” my grandma looked at me from across the kitchen table, pen in hand, with a list of questions her and my mother had already written lying before her. the questions included what my new diet would consist of, how long it would take until full recovery, what physical exercises I should be doing, and a lot of other medical things that I had tuned out while pretending to listen.
I started back to reality at my grandma’s voice. my first impulse was to answer her jokingly by saying, “yeah, ask the doctor if we can include chocolate in the diet somehow.”
instead I thought (you heard that right. please be impressed by this rare occassion ;).
DID I have any questions?
“I have a question,” I finally replied, “but it’s more for you than for the doctor.”
she raised her eyebrows in anticipation and set down her pen.
“do you think this doctor will take me seriously? most doctors have started out their sessions almost as if they think I am making everything up. by the end of the appointment, I can tell they believe me, but those first few minutes of being treated like a liar or a child are humiliating.”
my own voice surprised me. it sounded shaky as though I were about to cry.
my grandma was quiet for a moment. “renee,” she said at last, “do you ever gage people and their opinions by percentage?”
“what do you mean?”
“I mean that if somebody said that he had heard that balancing ten plates on your head will cure you of a disease, what would you rank your belief in that statement percentage wise? would you give that 2% of your trust? what if you heard from a more reliable source all about a treatment that had been found to cure most cases of that disease? Would you give that 60% of your trust?”
I was still feeling mystified.
“renee. give God 100% of your trust. if the doctor doesn’t believe you or your symptoms at first, don’t let that drag you down. know that God, who made you, knows what is wrong and has the ability to heal you. let Him be your rock. don’t rest solely upon what others say or think about your sickness. don’t rest solely upon others opinions. rest upon God. God knows.”
I thought about this for a moment. during the past few weeks, I have been feeling like maybe I’m crazy. I know that something is wrong with my body- staying in bed and hanging out on the couch all day is enough indication that something is not right- but what with my test results coming back normal, I have been feeling, yes, grateful, but also phony. thoughts have kept slipping into my mind making me doubt myself. making me feel like maybe I’ve just been being a big baby and if I could just get my act together, I would be better in no time.
and yet the truth is, I am not well. I feel happier in spirit than I did a week or two ago, but tonight my legs began hurting again like crazy and my right foot went all tingly. I am weak. I am tired. my vision is blurry. something is wrong, but nobody knows what.
I have faced many critical doctors, and I feel more worn out with each one. this morning I told my dad that if anyone at church said something about me faking this or just wanting attention I would start crying. (just so you know, nobody did. I love you all.) I have started ranking people’s opinions at a high percentage rate, and I’ve been letting my own doubts get to me. I have stopped looking to God for 100% of all the strength, comfort, and support I need. and doing that has left me feeling empty.
I need to find my refuge in the Creator-not the created.
my grandma’s words struck me hard. I felt as though a burden was lifted, no, knocked off my shoulders. suddenly I remembered that no matter what happens, no matter how long I am sick, no matter if the doctors ever find what is wrong, no matter what others may say, I can rest in knowing that God knows all about what I am feeling, what is going on in my body, why this is happening, and how it will resolve. He’s got it under control, even if all the doctors in the world don’t. even if I feel crazy. even if some may think I’m crazy.
I looked back into my grandma’s eyes and tried to keep the tears out of my own.
“I think I had forgotten that,” I said. “thank you for reminding me.”
she went on to pray for me. praying that I would put on the full armor of God and that I would trust Him and look to Him alone.
and now here I am in bed. writing this all out, because I am a dunce and would forget most of the conversation by morning.
I don’t want to forget this conversation. I want to remember it.
if I could just stop forgetting how awesome God is, I would be a lot better off! maybe I’ll make a sign with the words “Come on you big dummy! Remember that God is in control” written backwards on it, tape it to my forehead, and carry a mirror around with me to look into and remind myself.
of course, then I would be giving the doctors a good reason to think I’m crazy. ;)
well, I’m off to dream world.
nightynight,
muffin
ps- I just have to say thank you, thank you, thank you to my dear friends who have been praying for me. I love you all and I appreciate the prayers more than you know.
pps- no one send me any more chocolate. I can't eat it and watching others eat it... well... it's just not fun. ;)
ppps- maybe my next post should be on the joy of seeing others happy? ......... nahhhh.
8.8.11
a tea-time discussion
dear rory,
today a battle raged somewhere deep inside of me. I didn’t hear legions of soldiers marching in formation, stomping their iron-shod feet, shouting war chants with blood-lust in their mighty voices, brutally clanging their weapons, or savagely awaiting the trumpets to sound and the war to begin. instead, I heard a much more civilized battle taking place. a battle that involved two professors in tweed suits sitting down over a cup of tea (maybe they were speaking with British accents? don’t judge.) and discussing life.
meet professor heart and professor mind.
professor mind is notorious for being selfish. he enjoys going to pity-parties and holds many an audience captive with his pitiful descriptions of his pitiful life. despite his flaws, he does wish to be better than he is. he knows that his disposition is not right, but he has been selfish for so long, that he often forgets he is striving to become something better.
professor heart usually fights for what is just and right. he knows that he was bought with a price, and with the help of the Holy Spirit, he works at becoming a new creation. although he occasionally has his moments of weakness, he tries to seek after wisdom and to correct professor mind in a way that is kind, but firm.
these two professors usually meet somewhere inside of me. at a little out-door café. or so I imagine.
during their civilized battle today, I overheard a discussion of theirs.
their dialogue went something like this:
“ah, professor heart! I’m so glad that you could make it. please, do take a seat, and let me ring for the tea to be brought out. it’s such a dreadfully hot day, and I feel it all the worse, for I spent half the morning cutting the grass. or rather, I spent half the morning thinking about cutting the grass and dreading the task of actually doing it. it is such a bother that *I* should be the one to do it. why can’t somebody else do it instead? doesn’t everyone know I have better things to do than to get sweaty and dirty cutting a lawn? I’m sure I should have been resting my poor head. I woke up with such a dreadful headache, you know. oh! here’s the tea!”
“how long did you say that your mother has left to live? I know that she has been sick for quite some time now.”
“my dear professor heart! wherever did you hear such a thing as that? my mother is in perfect health, thank goodness! she has never been better, in fact. although, *I* have been feeling slightly down lately. I tell you that I am *quite* overworked. most people don’t have any idea how much I do for my family. why, just yesterday I had to…”
“and when did you say the bank was going to seize your house from you?”
“did I say that, professor heart? good heavens! the rumors you have been hearing! no, no, the bank is not going to seize our house! we are managing tolerably well, I assure you. things have been a bit tight… did I mention that we are going to have to sell some of our furniture? I was quite put out when mother told me so. to think that a respectable family like us should have to sell some of our furniture. it’s not fair at all, to be sure. why, if only we had more money, the things I would buy! First of all, I should like to get…”
“how do you find the soup kitchen at the shelter for the needy? I hear that they actually make quite a decent lentil stew.”
“the soup kitchen, professor heart?”
“yes, and how is your factory job going? the one that works you from dawn to dusk?”
“uhmm…professor heart. if I could but interject for a moment…?”
“and your father… it is such a shame that he is not a hard working man. I hear he visits the pubs so frequently that…”
“professor heart! none of these things are true! we are quite fine, believe me. I have good health, a home, food, and hard-working parents. I do not have to work from dawn until dusk, I assure you. I only have a few measly chores around the house, and mother and father work so hard that these tasks of mine are comparatively nothing. we are doing quite splendidly, thank you. have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“yes, quite clear, professor mind. forgive me for asking. now, what were you saying before I interrupted?”
“I… uhmm… well…”
needless to say, professor mind went home feeling very ashamed of himself. he resolved not to complain anymore and decided to be even more helpful than he had been of late.
professor heart went home with a smile on his face, quietly singing a ditty he had learned as a child: “do everything without complaining…so that you may become blameless and pure children of God.”
and I went in from mowing the lawn… *cough cough*… feeling especially grateful for everything that God has given me and wishing that I had spent less time that morning complaining and more time giving Him my thanks.
hopefully professor mind has learned his lesson. but I’m guessing he’ll soon forget it and have to be reminded again. good thing the café is open twenty-four seven.
your strange, imaginative friend,
muffin
today a battle raged somewhere deep inside of me. I didn’t hear legions of soldiers marching in formation, stomping their iron-shod feet, shouting war chants with blood-lust in their mighty voices, brutally clanging their weapons, or savagely awaiting the trumpets to sound and the war to begin. instead, I heard a much more civilized battle taking place. a battle that involved two professors in tweed suits sitting down over a cup of tea (maybe they were speaking with British accents? don’t judge.) and discussing life.
meet professor heart and professor mind.
professor mind is notorious for being selfish. he enjoys going to pity-parties and holds many an audience captive with his pitiful descriptions of his pitiful life. despite his flaws, he does wish to be better than he is. he knows that his disposition is not right, but he has been selfish for so long, that he often forgets he is striving to become something better.
professor heart usually fights for what is just and right. he knows that he was bought with a price, and with the help of the Holy Spirit, he works at becoming a new creation. although he occasionally has his moments of weakness, he tries to seek after wisdom and to correct professor mind in a way that is kind, but firm.
these two professors usually meet somewhere inside of me. at a little out-door café. or so I imagine.
during their civilized battle today, I overheard a discussion of theirs.
their dialogue went something like this:
“ah, professor heart! I’m so glad that you could make it. please, do take a seat, and let me ring for the tea to be brought out. it’s such a dreadfully hot day, and I feel it all the worse, for I spent half the morning cutting the grass. or rather, I spent half the morning thinking about cutting the grass and dreading the task of actually doing it. it is such a bother that *I* should be the one to do it. why can’t somebody else do it instead? doesn’t everyone know I have better things to do than to get sweaty and dirty cutting a lawn? I’m sure I should have been resting my poor head. I woke up with such a dreadful headache, you know. oh! here’s the tea!”
“how long did you say that your mother has left to live? I know that she has been sick for quite some time now.”
“my dear professor heart! wherever did you hear such a thing as that? my mother is in perfect health, thank goodness! she has never been better, in fact. although, *I* have been feeling slightly down lately. I tell you that I am *quite* overworked. most people don’t have any idea how much I do for my family. why, just yesterday I had to…”
“and when did you say the bank was going to seize your house from you?”
“did I say that, professor heart? good heavens! the rumors you have been hearing! no, no, the bank is not going to seize our house! we are managing tolerably well, I assure you. things have been a bit tight… did I mention that we are going to have to sell some of our furniture? I was quite put out when mother told me so. to think that a respectable family like us should have to sell some of our furniture. it’s not fair at all, to be sure. why, if only we had more money, the things I would buy! First of all, I should like to get…”
“how do you find the soup kitchen at the shelter for the needy? I hear that they actually make quite a decent lentil stew.”
“the soup kitchen, professor heart?”
“yes, and how is your factory job going? the one that works you from dawn to dusk?”
“uhmm…professor heart. if I could but interject for a moment…?”
“and your father… it is such a shame that he is not a hard working man. I hear he visits the pubs so frequently that…”
“professor heart! none of these things are true! we are quite fine, believe me. I have good health, a home, food, and hard-working parents. I do not have to work from dawn until dusk, I assure you. I only have a few measly chores around the house, and mother and father work so hard that these tasks of mine are comparatively nothing. we are doing quite splendidly, thank you. have I made myself perfectly clear?”
“yes, quite clear, professor mind. forgive me for asking. now, what were you saying before I interrupted?”
“I… uhmm… well…”
needless to say, professor mind went home feeling very ashamed of himself. he resolved not to complain anymore and decided to be even more helpful than he had been of late.
professor heart went home with a smile on his face, quietly singing a ditty he had learned as a child: “do everything without complaining…so that you may become blameless and pure children of God.”
and I went in from mowing the lawn… *cough cough*… feeling especially grateful for everything that God has given me and wishing that I had spent less time that morning complaining and more time giving Him my thanks.
hopefully professor mind has learned his lesson. but I’m guessing he’ll soon forget it and have to be reminded again. good thing the café is open twenty-four seven.
your strange, imaginative friend,
muffin
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