In Pain and Providence

 Everything happens for a reason. 

These words cut into me as deeply as the pain I felt in my back, but sliced into soul instead of skin. "Okay, you got me," I thought. I fantasized about switching places with the bearer of ill-communicated words of God's providence. The pain overrode my response and kindly kept my mouth shut.

I had spent the better part of the previous week preparing for a trip away with Micah. He and I don't get away alone very often. And when we do, there is so much planning that goes into it. Making sure our five left at home are covered as well as whomever is kind enough to come spend days with them, taking on the pressures of their care and schedule, is a days-long process.

There was so much to consider, plan, and prepare. Yet, come the morning we were to leave, everything was done. The biggest problem on my mind was the over-packing of heavy books I had done in the excitement of having some extra reading and writing time. I had spent a few minutes feeling relief, even journaling a few notes of thankfulness. I had one errand to run, and with a short flight delay, there was plenty of time to get it accomplished before heading to sunny Florida.

That morning, there was a school delay. Even as sleet had affected roads the night before, it seemed largely inconsequential compared to the sum of the life-negotiations I had finally ceased navigating. Buses were still running. Schools gave extra time but did not close. I gathered several items in my arms, including my purse prepared with traveling necessities, and headed out. I opened and closed the front door without a pause in my movement thinking only of the last task before the trip.

My next thoughts were, "What is happening. I am falling. There is nothing I can do." It seemed to last a long time--- the falling down part, even though it was only a couple of seconds at most. Because my hands were full, I didn't get them behind me. I was quite sure I had hit the concrete stairs, but I couldn't tell exactly what was injured, at first. As I fell, I somehow yelled for Micah who was just inside the door. I didn't think he had heard me, so I raised my phone, already in my hand, and tried to activate it. I knew something was awry and I needed help. As my husband barreled out the door toward me, sliding too and landing to my right, I tried to turn and help him. My body wouldn't comply. It took him a minute to shake off his injuries.

Now, I have watched funny videos enough to know that if you had been a house or two down watching this craziness, it might be reasonable to snicker at what appeared to be a pile-up of people at the mercy of icy stairs. I saw the viral video of the jogger who bragged and busted it on live news in 2014 and while I hoped the poor gal wasn't seriously injured, I laughed. It was funny. The trampoline, piñata, "watch this" people who have walked away with $$$$ for their pain know, as much as it hurts, our mistakes sometimes induce the best laughs.

Speaking of mistakes, I have never wanted so badly to go back just a few minutes and consider for just a second the fact that icy weather conditions equal slick stairs. I had a lot of time to desire a do-over in my desperate situation. I was immobile. Micah tried to get me up but it just wasn't happening. My back had gone into some kind of spasm. The pain oozed in and had taken over. He tried again to lift me. Nope. So he called an ambulance.

I had 10-15 minutes of laying in the sleet on the concrete landing before they came. I had 1,000 thoughts. The overriding one orbited around the feeling that I just couldn't believe this was happening. And what had I done? What in the world hurt so bad that I couldn't move? And--- would I even be able to move?

The next hours were full of pain... so much pain, particularly as the ambulance bumped and swerved its way to the hospital in terrible traffic, then as the medical professionals moved me from board to stretcher, stretcher to ER bed, bed to CT, back to bed, bed to X-ray, back to bed. Coats and clothing had to be maneuvered. Every movement was excruciating. I cried a lot.

In the midst, enter lady with the untimely truth.

Sometimes, we are untimely with our words.

We are so uncomfortable entering into suffering, sometimes (shall I say many times if we are brave?) even our own. We want to smooth things over, even with holy things. But what if the pain is just as holy? What if this road, the way of the cross, is the one we absolutely cannot avoid? And we stay on it all the way until we meet the day we arrive at our physical end? Then and only then do we awaken in complete, never-going-back, whole resurrection. What if the suffering, both physical and spiritual, ushers in truths that shine a spotlight full-on the state of our bodies and souls and is what brings us to God?

This is the way of the cross. It is the way of suffering.

Words that go around suffering feel more like weapons rather than truths that support space for all the real pain of this broken place. What is ironic is that my Providential, Sovereign God was with me every moment, not forcing unrealized redemption of as a way to anesthetize the suffering. The promise that it would come to an end--- that Jesus came to defeat all that is hurt and pain and secured the promise of an eternity absent every bad thing (most importantly my own sin and rebellion)--- was just as true unspoken as heard aloud every minute. It reached in in the cross and proved Immanuel once again. The Holy Spirit, Comforter prays for me. The One known as the Man of Sorrows, acquainted with grief, now seated at the right hand of His Father, hears. He always has the ear of my Father. He ever-lives to intercede for me, as I writhe and cry, feel the limitations of a body, finite and frail, knowing how it felt to have bones that cracked and broke, flesh that was bruised and torn. He sees His scars and knows--- being human hurts and He prays accordingly on my behalf.

He waited with me on the stairs. He was there with Micah as he made decisions and moved to care for me. He was all around when my consciousness was lost. He was there as the IV tore open my vein and as meds were administered that helped with the pain. He was there as the nurses attended and anticipated my needs. He was in the assessment and treatment given by a seasoned physician, knowing all that was wrong, even before the viewers of the scanning machines. He was there as I sat up for the first time, feeling the weight of the pain settle in muscles that would remind me of the injury even to this minute. He was behind and before as the Physical Therapist taught me to walk and climb and descend stairs. Every second of pain, every minute of question, every hour of recovery since... Never moving out of the discomfort but abiding with me in it, the Incarnate One, Emmanuel, was mine. Not because of who I am, but because of who He is.

And behold, I am with you always, to the end of the age. Matthew 28:20

I have spent the last almost two weeks knowing what it means to have part of my spine break. It is astonishing the pain two fractures of the transverse process of one's L1 vertebrae inflict. The bone is one thing--- the muscles responding are another. I was fortunate to avoid worse injury and paralysis. I was fortunate to not have damage to organs. I have re-learned how to do things I haven't thought about being able to do ever. My baby sister--- the little one I was so proud to care for some as a baby, now grown with a baby of her own--- came in to care for me this time. Before her, Micah's parents kindly held down the fort. Folks have brought meals and flowers. I have received prayers and cards. I treasure them. I have come to appreciate well-honed skill of my Physical Therapist. I am making progress! I am so thankful that God brings temporary healing to shadow the hope of heaven. Micah and I have added a new season of knowing in a way that will be woven in the tapestry of our marriage forever. I am a dependent being, made more aware of all the outside-of-me help.

My eternal hope, and yours, is not that we always share truths in timely ways. God knows I have tried to avoid sharing in the sufferings of my friends and neighbors by forcing an over-realized eschatology instead of weeping with them in their very real pain. I do have a desire that I grow in bearing with one another well, loving as I have first been loved--- but that is not my hope. It rests in the One who ever lives and pleads for me. Jesus lived a life marked with timely words uttered from human lips, emanating from His omniscience and perfect compassion, for me. He submitted to suffering and death for my sake. He rose again to bring the promise of resurrection--- for me.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.

I don't know the reasons why this happened. I suspect they are good ones. They don't change how hard this has been and may be for a while. I may never know the whys. And that is okay.

Who Am I?

The internet is a place where we can design what the world sees us to be. As much as I'd like to think I am real out here, the truth is that you know me from a lot of words filled with truth and typos and some glimpses into my life via the one-second snapshots I have probably edited and posted. Sometimes I get brave and try to be as truthful as I can. But I know, as much as we'd like to think we are who the internet thinks we are, we only scratch the surface out here.

I think about the thing for which I'd like to be known. I'd like to be known for being a person in process--- loved by God and wanting to know more of what that means. A person with real flaws, real gifts, real pain, and real joy. A person with questions and thoughts. I'd like to think myself a writer. And not just a writer, but a good one!

Every real relationship, either face-to-face or screen-to-screen, i.e. wife, mother, daughter, sister, aunt, cousin, friend, neighbor, acquaintance--- begs the question, who am I to {you}? Am I liked? Loved? I want you to see me as a positive adjective  noun. It isn't entirely satisfying for me to define who I am either. I want you to agree with and affirm me. This is powerful--- because who we say we are is confirmed if someone agrees with us--- and not just someone, but someone with some authority. Or maybe if enough people say it, then it will be true. But what if there is one dissenter? One who point out the flaws and says I am a negative adjective noun? And what if deep down I know they are right? Facts and opinion, founded or unfounded, tears at the peace of the hope of positive identity.

Who am I? Who do all these people think I am? But who am I really? What is my identity? Where do I belong? If I put this upon you to answer for me, I am certain this question will never be put to rest.

Deitrich Bonhoeffer wrote this verse, still applicable today:

WHO AM I?
Who am I? They often tell me
I would step from my cell`s confinement
calmly, cheerfully, firmly,
like a squire from his country-house.
Who am I? They also tell me
I would talk to my warders
freely and friendly and clearly,
as though it were mine to command.
Who am I? They also tell me
I would bear the days of misfortune
equably, smilingly, proudly,
like one accustomed to win.

Am I then really all that which other men tell of?
Or am I only what I myself know of myself,
restless and longing and sick, like a bird in a cage,
struggling for breath, as though hands were compressing my throat,
yearning for colors, for flowers, for the voices of birds,
thirsting for words of kindness, for neighborliness,
trembling with anger at despotisms and petty humiliation,
tossing in expectation of great events,
powerlessly trembling for friends at an infinite distance,
weary and empty at praying, at thinking, at making,
faint, and ready to say farewell to it all?

Who am I? This or the other?
Am I one person today, and tomorrow another?
Am I both at once? A hypocrite before others,
and before myself a contemptibly woebegone weakling?
Or is something within me still like a beaten army,
fleeing in disorder from victory already achieved?

~

We cannot talk about who we are without first talking about who God is. It is He who made us--- not we ourselves. I am growing in my awareness of how controversial beginning here is these days. Yet, I come from the starting point of scripture and I desire to maintain the integrity of its assertions. From there, we begin as God reveals Himself. The Old Testament is full of stories that reveal the One True and Living God.

First, God is not some amorphous, out-there deity. He reveals Himself in particular ways and He relates to His creation in particular ways as well. At the beginning, He is Creator. He also relates closely with Adam and Eve, walking with them in the garden. But very quickly after the fall, God reveals Himself to be I AM- the One who was and is and is to come. His authority is swiftly established as He asserts His judgement and dominion over the earth and its inhabitants. As the Law is added, we learn I AM is not one with whom to be reckoned alone. No one comes to God in their own way. He also chooses to reveal Himself by name in terms of His attributes as well as His covenants. Among those, there is El-Shaddai. El is a generic term for deity that "instills with mankind a mysterious dread or reverence", with -Shaddai meaning "God of the Mountains" or "The Almighty God". El-Roi means "God who sees me". Yahweh-Jireh combines the covenant name for God with the place God provided the lamb in the place of Isaac and means "The LORD will provide". There is Adonai which shows honor and "took on the connotation of God's absolute lordship". {reference, Holman Illustrated Bible Dictionary, pp. 1171-1172} God has many names and these are only some of the ways God chose to reveal Himself for years and years. These names are the ways those with faith called upon Him. They would have thought themselves "Sons of Abraham", the ones who were the fulfillment of the Abrahamic covenant. Yet Abraham was not their ultimate father.

Woven throughout scripture are promises of the One who will bridge the chasm between God and man. There are prophecies that speak of Him. His identity is woven in and  through the Old Testament. He will be a child; one called a Son. He is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets. He is the child born to us (Isaiah 7:14; 9:6) Immanuel, God with us.

This Son comes to earth, making the claim to be the fulfillment of the prophecies. He says and does many things to prove His divinity and, at the same time, displays His humanity. One of the things He does is teach the disciples how to pray. Yet, after all the descriptive names that reveal the person and character of God in the Old Testament, Jesus tells the disciples to pray in this way (Matthew and Luke's gospels), and calls out to God saying our Father, or Father. He has spoken of their Heavenly Father, yet speaking of and speaking to are different things. Jesus speaks directly to God as Father and admonishes those around Him to follow suit. Of all the names the disciples would have known to address God, Dad was the way Jesus wanted them to know Him.
Jesus introduces us to God--- our, His, mine, your Everlasting Father. 

Scripture is first a book about His rescue plan, to borrow a phrase from Sally Loyd-Jones. His plan, His person, His Son, Jesus is the main narrative. And who needs to be rescued? The first chapters of the book of Romans answers this question as does other scriptures which describe those apart from God. This must be acknowledged if I am to begin to settle the question of who I am in relation to Him. We are first made aware that we are people following the prince of the power of the air, hopeless, dead in trespasses, orphans, exiles--- all the negative adjectives nouns--- We are those who need rescue. I feel all those adjectives deeply as they give voice to the part of my soul that longs to be pulled from despair. Clearly, we need a new identity if there is to be peace in all the parts of our souls that ask, Who am I?

After a rich explanation of our need in the first several chapters of the book of Romans, Paul voices a response to God after having his eyes opened to his own sin. I have written about this before, yet I feel my soul repeating it when I continue to come to terms with the depths of my own need. When we become aware of who we are before God,  our response isn't, Sovereign Lord. It isn't Righteous Ruler. Not Deliverer. It is, "Abba! Father!" We look to Him as a child looks to his or her dad, knowing the only real help comes from Him. Our hearts are like lifted arms, only to be made aware that He has been pulling us up by our hands all along. This is the chosen way God shows Himself to a people who are made aware of exactly who they are. There is nothing more to say, nothing to explain, nothing to do but see Him and press in to the awareness that He is our Father. 

God is I AM, our Father, one with authority and paternity. In the way He chooses to reveal Himself as Father, He relates to us and by default says you are.

But God--- being rich in mercy made those lost to Him, found. He sent Jesus to seek them, to live for them, to die for them, and to be raised again for the hope of eternity--- all so He can name them. The adjectives and nouns no longer change in relation to Him. The title is no longer up in the air. It is settled once and for all.

But when the fullness of time had come, God sent forth His Son, born of woman, born under the law, to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as sons. And because you are sons, God has sent the Spirit of his son into your hearts, crying, "Abba! Father!" So you are no longer a slave, but a son, and if a son, then an heir through God.  Galatians 4:4-7

The one who carries the name above all names has named us. He has initiated, maintains, and promises to wholly ~body and soul~ restore our relationship, complete with the benefits of the only righteous Son and rightful Heir, who gives His righteousness  and rightfulness to His inheritance to us.

We all want to be called someone significant who is loved and cherished, who is accepted and forever belongs. And because God calls Jesus, Son, and because we are in Him, we are sons and daughters. And not only are we sons and daughters, but we are heirs, beloved, and forever belonging. The blanks we seek to fill-in with all the relationships we have in our lifetime will vary. But we no longer have to ask the question, Who am I? If God, our Father, is who He says He is, then we are who He says we are.

Who am I? They mock me, these lonely questions of mine.
Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine.

link:  D. Bonhoeffer

Hearing His word settles me down--- as only the voice of a loving parent can settle and sooth, because His words do not hang on anything other than who He is and what He has done. The struggle now is to believe--- to convince my mind, not yet whole, that I am becoming who I already am. I can hear it a thousand different ways today and need to hear it again tomorrow. Sinner and Saint. Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.

Our Relational, Triune God

This past summer, my second oldest son and I were debriefing after he had spent time in VBS. "How was your day?" I asked.

"Well, (short pause) I detected a bit of trinitarian heresy," he replied.

I burst out laughing. I vacillated between being curious, proud, and sincerely hoping he had not called out the teacher in front of everyone in the middle of lesson time! This child--- His parents. He gets it honest people.

I have spent years trying to fight the fact that I love theology. Once, I joined a women's book club. When the group voted on future recommendations, I was a tad (okay, more than a tad) disappointed my choice, The Doctrine of God by John Frame (which I was lightly reading at the time), wasn't a shoo-in. I just can't fake it. I am not a Janette Oak reader. Never have been--- never will be. And maybe it is okay that I am okay with that at this point in life. Perhaps you have known this all along and you are okay with that too.

We all have a theology, whether or not we are aware of it. Our thoughts about God permeate our conscious and subconscious. Even those who wouldn't claim belief in a higher power take great pains to defend their position and disprove others. I find that... interesting.

Our theology shapes us. It reaches into the everyday and gives a foothold when everything else seems to be shifting. The way we know God changes the way we see Him, clearly, but it also shapes the way we see ourselves and others. It matters for me when I kiss my husband. It matters when I look in the eyes of my children, love, and lead them. It matters when I wait and wonder about our two Haiti babies and the hearts of birth parents. It matters when I glance in the mirror and see an aging face. It enters into chores and rest. It speeds and slows the diffusing of all the experiences that seem like such a big deal.

Particular in this internet space, I find myself sometimes uplifted, other times discouraged, and often sad. The internet seems to be, in its expanse, a readied means for invoking and revealing the soul. From stern warnings, social media conflicts, and new stories, creating awareness of all the broken things on one side--- then to the  positive  heart-warming stories, "how to's", reminders of grace, and unification for a cause, there are so many feelings out here! Regardless of the theme, the affects of "likes", "loves", "reviews", and "shares" make me painfully self-reflective.

Outside the cyber world, the real world offers an incessant dialogue between head and heart, mind and soul. When I find myself reacting strongly or feeling down, there may be surface questions that roll around my head, but if I could reduce all of them, they would originate with these three thoughts:

1. Who am I? Who do all these people think I am? But who am I really? What is my identity? Where do I belong?
2. Does anyone understand what I am going through? Does anyone see and understand me?
3. Am I all alone?

I think about how the Triune God--- Father, Son, and Holy Spirit--- relate to these questions. Part of the way God has chosen to reveal Himself speaks to them. I am a person who forgets things, which is a big reason I write. I am always encouraged as God reaches from the outside in to my day, my space and circumstances, reminds, and gently leads. I hope that as I think again about who I am and who God is, I can encourage you too. I hope to go through these questions in a series of blogs so they are a bit more concise and easy for mediation. I honestly think books could be written here! But in this season and for reflective purposes, I am going to keep this a beginning point for a conversation which will most likely continue until faith is sight.