In Him We Live and Move and Have our Being

Before I began this Journey into Chronic Illness more than two years ago,

I had immersed myself in praying

the Scriptures,

through a Beth Moore book, titled,

Praying God's Word: Breaking Free from Spiritual Strongholds.

I did not see the place that lay before me.

But my Lord was making preparation.

Even as the pain began increasing,

and the Specialist spoke the words

Chronic Rheumatoid Arthritis,

I did not feel the darkness that was lying

in wait

to pounce and cover me as the 

nights began to swallow the days.

But today the nudge of my Lord

led me back to the first chapter of 

Beth Moore's book, and her quote:

"The giant step in the walk of faith is the one we take when we decide God no longer is a part of our life. He is our life."

followed by this passage in Acts:

 “The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples built by human hands.  And he is not served by human hands, as if he needed anything. Rather, he himself gives everyone life and breath and everything else. From one man he made all the nations, that they should inhabit the whole earth; and he marked out their appointed times in history and the boundaries of their lands.  God did this so that they would seek him and perhaps reach out for him and find him, though he is not far from any one of us.  ‘For in him we live and move and have our being.'" 

Acts 17:24-28 NIV 

 

I don't think I could have seen how much I  depended on my own healthy, strong self

until that self became en-robed in weakness.

 

Oh, don't get me wrong here.

I longed for God to be my life.

I cried out for Him to expose my hidden sins,

and I searched the words that my mind

fell back upon to see His Mercy.

 

But physically?

Well, that was my own responsibility.

I tried to make healthy choices.

I walked those trails to increase my stamina,

and I pushed my strength,

day after day as I shoveled and carried and

weeded my way through our land.

So when I found myself being gradually

stripped of those abilities,

I heard myself complaining to God,

"Why did you bring me to this place if I can't take care of it?" 

Ah,

There's the catch, isn't it?

What if He wanted to show me exactly that?

Maybe I am here, BECAUSE I cannot 

take care of it,

and

Maybe He wants to be more than a part of my

spiritual and emotional life.

HE WANTS MY WHOLE LIFE.

MY WHOLE BROKEN SELF.

So, in these days before the Official

THANKSGIVING DAY,

my heart is filled with Thanks:

Thanks for the preparation

and Thanks for the journey

that leads me to more of HIM

who is my whole life.

And in this way,

our hearts can truly say

we are thankful in every season. 

I am linking this week with these great sites:

#TellHisStory Jennifer Dukes Lee 
#TeaAndWordTuesday, Meg Weyerbacher 

 

Day 14: Hear the cry of the Broken

It was one of those days yesterday.  The kind where even the blue sky cannot chase away the grey in your heart. I offered my heart to God, asking for encouragement, and found sweet words from the heart of a friend to comfort me. Read Joy's post, "Beauty: When beauty brushes by on butterfly wings" from yesterday, and you'll see how God brought the thought of butterflies again to lift my gaze to Him. 

But the Word in my heart did not change, and WAIT continued to be the only direction or purpose I could cling to.  So, in spite of my questions, 

When will the hospital call to schedule the biopsy?

How can our budget handle these continuous additions?

Where will my pain levels climb through all these added stresses?

I chose to accept God's call, and lean in to the WAITING.

And then the washing machine decided to quit working.

Have you been there? Facing the final straw that tries to close off your heart? 

When the small service company was able to send someone within just a few hours, I started to suspect that God had something going on with all of this, and I had better pay attention.  And when the repairman walked through the door, and a JOY at seeing him rose in my heart . . . well, I knew that the Holy Spirit was giving me one of His nudges.

I asked him how he had been doing, because I remembered that a year and a half ago, when he was last here, I had shared about my Rheumatoid Arthritis, and he had shared a little about his own journey with Chronic Illness and Multiple Sclerosis. Over this last year, God had brought him to my mind frequently, and I had prayed for him. So,when he replied that he had had a rough year, and I told him about my prayers, something changed within his countenance, and he began to tell me just how rough his year had been.

This tough almost-retirement-age strong worker, had been brought to his knees by a viscous nerve-damaged pain.  In the middle of almost being suicidal because the pain was unbearable, he had cried out to God, and asked Him for help. And he told me that He had said to God that if He found a way to get him through this, that he would find a way to pay it forward, giving back for the help that had been offered to him.  And, a way did open up! After being told again and again that there was no hope for him, a different neurosurgeon was willing to try a new procedure, one that ultimately brought total pain relief to this man.  He said to me, "You will never know how much your prayers mean to me," and repaired our washing machine at no charge.  

And again, it was the hug that he offered, (how many repairman have you hugged today?) as he walked out the door, that caused the tears to flow over my face. 

We are not walking alone through these days. Whatever the Season you now face, there is a purpose to your path

that is meant to be shared.

And there are prayers to be offered that only

YOU

can speak.

What if I had ignored God's nudge to pray for that repairman, saying that he was only a brief acquaintance, and 

what good could my prayers possibly have, anyway?

Oh, I am sure that God would have answered that man's cry, but I would have missed out on sharing the miracle,

and finding God's comfort for my own heart 

in the process.

If you are the one hearing God's nudge to pray,

or if you are the one crying out for mercy,

please know that my prayers go out for you today,

my friend.  

 

Psalm 140:6 (NIV) I say to the Lord, “You are my God.” Hear, Lord, my cry for mercy.

Perhaps this song will bless you as it has blessed me:

(And, oh, right after the repairman left, the hospital called to schedule my Biopsy for next Monday. How's that for God's timing?)

Today is Day 14 for the #Write31Days Challenge

and this journey of #31Days of Listening with Chronic Illness

My heart is blessed that you are here with me.

If you missed any of the previous posts

Please click here for the Series Index 

The wind was howling
And my husband was snoring
And it was one of those pain-filled-lying-awake-kind-of-nights.

But yet there was a difference this time.  Traveling along this road of brokenness, I am falling onto the comfort where Jesus has been waiting for me.  My last post shared about the truce with my body, and the surrender that required.  I have held onto anxiety about my body, and too often missed the peace that Jesus would have given. He is in the howling wind storm that swirls inside this body; Peace in the midst of the Storm.

And this broken body of mine is ready to express the growing that is birthed out of those kinds of storms.

Most of my friends have at one time or another received one of my creative offerings.  Whether it was a hand-sewn craft, or a hand-lettered verse, or a home-grown plant, you get the idea:  I loved to bless with the work of my hands.  But my hands were the first thing to be changed in this Rheumatoid Arthritis Journey.  The strength and the detail required were simply not there any longer.  And the joy in my creating was gone as well.  I missed the satisfaction that came with a job well done.  I missed the grace that was required to place a small detail in just the right way at just the right time.  And I missed the process of planning an idea from beginning to end. I tried small projects, but was disappointed that I could not fulfill the idea that was in my head.  And then the ideas stopped too,  when the fatigue and fog of this chronic disease stole my normal way of processing thoughts.

But Jesus in me did not stop expressing His ideas.  This blog is one of those expressions.  But there is another way that He has been asking me to explore the NEW.  I inherited some of my older brother's art supplies when he passed away from cancer several years ago.  Watercolors and instruction books have stared at me from the bookshelf.  "I could never paint," the old, detailed-me spoke often enough. Pen and ink lettering was my style. Not the free flowing expression of feeling that watercolor required.  But that is exactly what the Lord is requiring now:

Almost Spring
    Almost Buds
        Comfort in the growing.

This is the difference that last night proved to me.  The growing is where God's Comfort is. Flowing where I can't plan anything anymore, His Words and His Ideas express themselves nevertheless. He does not require my planning, just my willingness to let Him mold and shape and move through this howling wind that is inside of me.  Peace be still, He speaks to the storm.  And I will move with Him.

"And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, Peace, be still. And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm."  Mark 4:39

I am linking today with TheFaithBarista, for her #OneWordLent series, where the word today is brokenness:

http://www.faithbarista.com/