Bright Hope for Tomorrow

This morning after church I stood outside with one of my best friends (Big shout out to Vicki!) as we watched our children play. Well, really we watched my two year old son make questionable play-time choices like eat discarded ice off of the sidewalk and throw rocks into the parking lot. Close by, watching his every move, was Vicki's two year old daughter, telling him with her facial expression, "Morgan, you are making terrible decisions with your life."

Vicki and I talked, as friends do, about kids, finances, and work. We agreed that the older we get the more we see how nothing in life is assured. In the past six months I have witnessed in the lives of my friends and family health scares, chronic illness diagnoses, the loss of babies, the loss of spouses. 2015 brought with it the realization that nothing in life is certain. Nothing is guaranteed.

And this, my friends, is a complete bummer.

Unless, you see things through an eternal lens.

Isaiah 65:17-19 tells us that when Jesus returns and comes to reign on earth all will be well. Better than well. All will be made perfect:

“Look! I am creating new heavens and a new earth, and no one will even think about the old ones anymore. Be glad; rejoice forever in my creation! And look! I will create Jerusalem as a place of happiness. Her people will be a source of joy. I will rejoice over Jerusalem and delight in my people. And the sound of weeping and crying will be heard in it no more."

Wyatt's Bible, The Children's Storybook Bible, sums this verse up in one beautiful sentence:

"All things sad will become untrue."

Can you imagine it? Every physical or emotional hurt, disease, or ache of lost loved ones will be forgotten and in their place restoration will be given. Restoration of good health. Restoration of those lost. Pain gone. Children returned to empty arms.

Maybe this seems far-fetched. And maybe some would chalk it up to the stuff of fairy tales. But A.W. Tozer in his book, Pursing God, tells us this:

"God and the spiritual world are real. We can reckon upon them with as much assurance as we reckon upon the familiar world around us."

I want to believe in things I haven't seen. I want to hold fast to sweet promises made by a good God. And I want to share with others what this world so desperately needs: hope.

Strength for today. Bright hope for tomorrow. Blessings all mine with 10,000 beside. Great is His faithfulness, dear one!

In this world we will have trouble. Jesus Himself said so. But our hope and our faith are well placed in Him because, "Take heart!" He has overcome this world (John 16:33).

And all those sad things? He will literally make them disappear. Because in the new world in which I will live there will be no illness, no dying. Not even a bad day.

This seen world we live in now is made of flimsy paper at best. But that unseen world that is coming is made of rock, made to last forever.

My paper life here will be torn, it will be ripped, scribbled upon, and crumpled up.

My rock life there is solid, assured, and certain. It cannot be damaged, eroded, or weathered. All will be restored.

All sad things untrue.

Lord, may it be so.

Crushed

Have you ever had a bone crushed? No? Well, I have. And let me tell you in case you doubted...it hurts. Like...a lot. Like I've had two babies and the pain of a crushed bone totally trumps having two babies.

I repeat: a crushed bone is more painful than childbirth.

So, how did I break this bone, you ask? A skiing accident? Car wreck? Putting myself in harm's way to save a small child from wandering out into traffic?

Nope. I was a senior in high school and a varsity cheerleader...and I fell off the top of a pyramid.

The ridiculousness of it is not lost on me.

The days and weeks that followed the accident were excruciating. My left foot broke in half vertically and the small block of bone that connects my foot to my leg was shattered into several pieces. I missed weeks of school, took strictly-managed Vicodin to ease pain, and attended three-times weekly physical therapy sessions. I had a cast up to my knee, but it couldn't go all the way around my leg because of the three pins that for 8 weeks stuck three inches out of my foot. The cast instead was held on by an Ace bandage.

But the most heartbreaking consequence of the break was when we told my surgeon where I'd be attending college in the fall: the University of Tennessee in Knoxville. I remember when he, very-matter-of-factly said, "Jennifer, I'm sorry but you can't go that far away. Your leg is still healing, still fragile. And I'll need you around for therapy."

But, I already had my dorm assignment. And a roommate. I was ready to sing "Rocky Top" and proudly wear that obnoxious shade of orange! Peyton Manning expected me to be there!

Bone crushed. Heart crushed, too.

Psalm 51:8 says, "Let the bones you have crushed rejoice."

In this Psalm David is experiencing some anguish of the soul. But David knows God. He knows this crushing of "bone," of spirit was momentarily painful, but ultimately for his spiritual good.

God was allowing David to experience hurt, so he could know greater things and live a better life.

That fall I began my college experience at a much smaller school than UT, a school only an hour away from my hometown - Western Carolina University.

That winter I met amazing friends. Friends who are still dear to me today.

That spring I laid eyes on the cutest boy I'd ever seen.

And four summers later I married him.

If not for my crushed bone:

I would not be his wife.

I would not be their mother.

I would not live this life.

I would not be this person.

We live through painful experiences both physical and emotional. But just like Joseph who experienced slavery, sexual harassment, and wrongful imprisonment we need to believe that God will mean all these things for good (Genesis 50:20).

A crushed bone. A crushed heart. A crushed spirit.

God loves you enough to give you momentary pain for eternal joy.

Almost twenty years after my injury there is still daily pain, still a slight limp, still more surgeries to be had in the future.

But that crushed bone paved the way for the greatest joys of my life.

So when I take that first stiff step in the morning or feel from the ache that it's about to rain or get "Is something wrong with your leg?" from a stranger I say, "Oh, that's just my crushed bone...and it's rejoicing."

Lord, may it be so.

Higher Ways

I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy being the only girl in my house. Two sons and their Daddy.

One Mommy.

Dusty says this makes me the princess. (Why do I feel this is said with a large measure of sarcasm?)

Sarcasm or not, there is something royal-like about being the only female presence in the family. I have a different perspective, different ideas. And, so sweetly, all three of my boys from the grown up Daddy to the two-year-old son appreciate and even revere my femininity.

Maybe I am the princess after all.

But Mommy is certainly not sovereign. Sovereignty means to have supreme power and authority. This is not the way things work at my house. We definitely seek to have a supreme leader over our household, but it's not me or even my husband, who is, in all ways a kind and fair head of our family:  I hope we live with God alone as our Sovereign.

With sovereignty comes a hefty responsibility. If you are the sovereign leader over a people you are responsible for every area of welfare in their lives. In short: the buck stops with the sovereign.

And God, my Sovereign, is okay with that. He's okay with being the source and supply of our every need. He, as King, will never fail you, as subject.

Life can be hard. Bad news, bad feelings, bad days, bad disease, bad loss, bad times, bad luck. Your Sovereign is not King over a fairy-tale earth.

But, your Sovereign, through all the bad, has made you, His subject, good promises:

And we know that God causes everything to work together for the good 

of those who love God and are called according to His purpose for them. 

Romans 8:28

From His lofty throne, high above our simple peasant land our King sees all and knows all. Therefore, I can put my complete trust in Him, lay down my will for His and live in beautiful, quiet submission to a God who knows much greater things than I do.

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways

My ways," declares the Lord. "For as the heavens are higher

than the earth, so are My ways higher

than your ways and My thoughts higher than yours."

Isaiah 55:8-9

Heaven is higher. Literally and figuratively. 

God is not sovereign for tyranny's sake. Not sovereign for greed's sake. Not sovereign for injustice's sake. God is sovereign for love's sake.

Charles Spurgeon said, "When you go through a trial, the sovereignty of God is the pillow upon which you lay your head."

I concede to my Sovereign who sees what is best for me and gives me this best freely, even if it looks differently than I think it should. 

I trust in my King who takes my bad and turns it into my good.

I believe in my Prince who does not shout chants of war over my life, but calms with whispers of peace. 

He sees all from His heavenly throne. He sees me. And because my faith is well placed I will quiet my spirit and find rest in submission. Submission to my Sovereign will lead to complete peace in my life even when things, by earthly standards, should be far from peaceful. 

Far be it from me to not believe

Even when my eyes can't see

~Bethel Music, "It is Well"

Lord, may it be so.

What's My Motivation?

Back in the day (those being the late 90s) I considered myself quite the performer. Shows, school plays, choral performances. You name it, I was in it. Theater. Geek. A, ahem, highlight of my high school career was being voted Most Talented by my senior class.

I know, I know. Be impressed.

Flash forward 16 years and I will tell you that I have not stepped foot to perform onstage in...16 years. Many of my peers have far eclipsed my talent and success in the performing arts.

But, oh, I loved those days. I learned much from them. Things like character development, being in-the-moment, timing, connecting with an audience. And about asking that question we always snicker at when an actor asks it: What's my motivation? Or why is my character doing this? (This was of special importance when I would play the role of "Townsperson" or "Reporter #3" or "Random-Person-in-the-Background.")

We may make fun of this stereotypical question, but it's actually a really great question.

What's my motivation? Or, let's rephrase it for our real life and ask: What's the motive of my heart? Why am I doing this?

Hosea 8:11 says, "Israel has built many altars to take away sin, but these altars became places for sinning." And verse 13 says, "The people love to offer sacrifices to me,  but I do not accept their sacrifices."

I build altars with my life to God, too. Altars of good works and pretty things I've written. Altars of "Look how good Wyatt is at praying!" And "I'm a pastor's wife."

But none of it is good enough to give God. Those altars are faulty and will surely crumble if I don't lay something else on them: my heart.

If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 And if I have aprophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, bso as to remove mountains, but have not love, I am nothing. 3 cIf I give away all I have, and dif I deliver up my body to be burned,1 but have not love, I gain nothing.

1 Corinthians 13:1-3

My altars, my sacrifices are no good without proper motivation. I do good things for Him with my life. This is important, yes. But these sacrifices mean nothing without my heart being given, too.

God doesn't want my good works. God wants me. And if He has me then He will, in turn, be pleased with what I've done in His name.

I was thinking this week of the difference between the words 'nice' and 'kind.' If someone were to describe me I would much rather they use the word kind.

Nice is good, but it's just an action: a smile or holding a door open or letting someone with fewer groceries cut in front of you in line.

But kind shows all that plus more. Kind shows the motive of the heart. It shows that the action was given from my heart. That I smiled or held a door or showed courteousness to a stranger because of love in my heart.

I want all things I do for God to be done from my love for Him. Not for recognition. Not for what it looks like to others. Not for the good things it may bring me.

So today I'll ask myself, what's my motivation? And I pray that my answer will be: my heart.

Lord, may it be so.

Grace Jelly

My oldest son, for better or worse, is exactly like me. He is inquisitive, creative, and wholly excited to live life.

But, like his dear mother, he has a one-track mind, a tendency for the dramatics, and a decided opinion on the right way to do things.

We run joyfully through life, Wyatt and I, but sometimes we trip over obstacles in our way - those obstacles usually being our own two feet.

Tuesday was a tough day at the Smith house. Wyatt pulled a red card (RED!) in Kindergarten that day. Once he was home the behavior did not improve. Long story short, he was sent to bed early without his night time snack (a truly horrid punishment to any five year old).

At this point I, being his emotional doppelgänger, was HOT. Done. Yelling, angry, out of patience. My patience wasn't running on fumes - the tank was dry and the car of gentle, kind Mommy was five miles back down the road. I sat down on the couch replaying everything the child had done that day.

But...pitter patter. I heard his feet coming to the bedroom door. Creeeak - the door opens. And there, staring out at me from the darkened bedroom, are two big blue eyes. Just like mine.

My husband (always the voice of reason): "Jennifer, he's scared in there."

Begrudgingly, I walk down the hall. I hear his little feet running back to bed. (The same little feet that had tried to kick me a few minutes before.)

I walk to the bed and lay down, and there he is, weeping tears of repentance onto his pillow. "Mommy, I'm sorry I was bad today. I'm sorry."

I tell him I love him. That it's my job to make him a good person. I reassure him. And then I ask if he's hungry.

The silent nod - yes.

He humbly walks to the living room and sits on the carpet. I walk to the kitchen and fix toast. Dry toast.

He's been bad, right? I mean, I'll feed him, but he doesn't deserve his normal, frosted strawberry Pop-Tart.

"Mom, can I have some grape jelly?"

"No. This isn't a fun snack. This is just to fill your belly and then back to bed."

Another nod from my boy, accepting his punishment.

But then...my heart. My repentant child. Who, in earnest came to me. Admitting sin, accepting responsibility. Accepting his dry, tasteless toast.

I take his toast and walk back to the kitchen, open the refrigerator door, take out the jelly. And I slather it on.

And, in that moment, that jelly becomes something altogether different.

It became Grace Jelly.

Because, you know what? I too have been the weeping child, admitting guilt. Accepting the condemnation. But, my Father? He forgives freely, with joy, and offers me grace in abundance. I serve a God who walks my weeping, guilty self into the kitchen and offers me food.

And do I even need to ask?

He gives me toast, cut into triangles, no crust, and spread corner to corner with sweet, filling Grace Jelly.

Hosea chapters 5 and 6 tell us that when we come to the Lord in earnest repentance He will "heal us (6:1)."  As big as my sin is, His grace is still bigger (Romans 5:20).

My Father is the best and most perfect example of parenting. What is good for Him is most certainly right for me.

So my sweet son ate his toast and grape jelly.

Because, his mommy, who he is so much like, has been given Grace Jelly many, many times before.

And I will certainly eat it again.

Grace, grace, God's grace

Grace that will pardon and cleanse within

Grace, grace, God's grace

Grace that is greater than all our sin.

~Julia H. Johnston