Tag: Heaven

A Comparison that Consoles

Published on by Marilyn1 Comment

A Comparison that Consoles by Robynn. If you did not have a chance to read A Comparison that Kills take a look here.

new Heaven

While comparing our personal pain to the suffering of others, does little to promote compassion and care, I’ve come to recently learn that there is a comparison that does deepen our connection with others, opens the door to empathy and promotes healing in ourselves and hope for all who are afflicted.

A couple of Sundays ago at our church, Pastor Steve, spoke on a passage hidden in the heart of the New Testament book of Romans. In many ways the apostle Paul was an expert in suffering. He had endured a great deal. What he writes on suffering it is never trite. He understood deep misery, loss, and betrayal. Pastor Steve pointed out that Paul doesn’t actually recommend comparing our sorrows against the sufferings of another. That type of comparison kills. But rather, Paul encourages us to compare our suffering with the glory that lies ahead. One day it will all be over. The grief of the globe, the pain of the planet, the quiet hurts of the isolated, the traumatized, victims of injustice or of a quaking earth….all of it will be over. This type of comparison brings comfort and consolation.

In the meantime we are allowed to groan.

The Lord is close to the brokenhearted; he rescues those whose spirits are crushed. (Ps 34:18)

God blesses those who mourn, for they will be comforted. (Matt 5:4)

I have certainly seen the oppression of my people in Egypt. I have heard their groans and have come down to rescue them. (Acts &:34)

The apostle Paul says that creation groans in agony. She is waiting for the day when she’s freed from death and decay. We are given permission to groan too. We suffer. We are in anguish. We long to be released from sin and suffering. Groaning is a perfectly legitimate response. But we do so with hope and with expectancy. There is surely glory ahead!

It’s important to be realistic about our own pain. That’s true. Avoid the temptation to minimize your sorrow. It’s also important to be realistic about the hope of glory that we have. Comparing our pain to the coming glory, and with it the relief and rest, allows us to better connect with others in their pain. It gives us a focal point on the horizon to point people to. Look ahead. See what’s coming! Jesus himself, the Man of Sorrow, who ministers to the broken and the weighed down, is on his way. And we remember that by his wounds we are healed. Glorious hope and healing are present and possible because of Who’s coming! The Nepali, broken and bruised and afraid, will find healing and peace and redemption. The city of Baltimore, full of anger and fear, will find justice and restoration and the Balm of Gilead.

That’s why I don’t think there’s any comparison between the present hard times          and the coming good times. The created world itself can hardly wait for what’s coming next. Everything in creation is being more or less held back. God reins it in until both creation and all the creatures are ready and can be released at the same moment into the glorious times ahead. Meanwhile, the joyful anticipation deepens. (Romans 8:18-21)

 

It’s Not an Age! It’s a Concept!

Published on by Marilyn31 Comments

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On turning 60, my cousin Leslianne relayed to me that it was surreal. “60 is not an age!” she said “60 is a concept!”

And that’s the thing with this age business. It becomes less and less real, more and more abstract. Today is my birthday and I am a proud 53. But it’s as though I’m in a large room and 53-year-old me is at the front of the room while the real me looks on from the back, shaking her head in confusion and astonishment.

“She couldn’t be 53!” says real me.

“How did this happen?” says real me.

“53 is not an age, it’s a concept!” says real me.

All the while 53-year-old me is oblivious. She eats breakfast in bed made by one of her adult children. She reads through Facebook and text messages from all over the world wishing her a Happy Birthday. She glances at herself in the mirror and thinks “The grey hairs have to go! I need a little L’oreal Magic in a bottle”. She blogs about being a proud 53 all the while knowing that given the western addiction to youth, she’s becoming irrelevant by the day.

  1. A proud 53. Real me tries to reconcile with this older me. Real me knows that aging, and all that goes with it, is an inevitable part of this world, but holds tight to the knowledge that we are made in the image of God, created for eternity. Real me looks at 53-year-old me and thinks “Give her grace God because she is really going to need it!”

Real me reaches across the room and offers a hand to 53-year-old me. Hands clasped they look up to Heaven and pray they will laugh together at the years to come.

 

 

It’s Not the Way It’s Supposed to Be!

Published on by Marilyn21 Comments

“It’s not the way it’s supposed to be” – the cry of the mother whose child has been shot in a kindergarten class on a seemingly normal Friday in December, presents already purchased, hidden in a closet in anticipation of a Christmas morning. The “hurry up! we’re going to be late” already a memory of the day. The “make sure you tie your shoe laces, don’t forget your lunch, honey you can’t wear that shirt, it’s dirty” now poignant reminders of a life that was, that is no longer.

It’s not the way it’s supposed to be.

The cry of the husband burying his wife and little one – deaths from a complicated childbirth; the cry of the husband who buried his 28-year old wife, dead from a brain tumor; the cry of the young woman who watched her husband die on their honeymoon; the cry of the mother of a soldier – killed during the war on terror; the cry of thousands of mothers in Afghanistan and Syria – all of whom have watched a child die.

It’s not the way it’s supposed to be.

And the cries echo toward the Heavens, in agony, in fear, in anger, in the deepest grief imaginable to man. And the throat catches, and the grief is wordless and boundless and rips the soul, the Whys and the Hows echoing all around. Hearts broken with grief, words of “how can we go one? how will we heal?” whispered through sleepless nights.

And on this third Sunday in Advent I look up and shout toward Heaven “It’s not the way it’s supposed to be.” And in the quiet, still of the morning, He whispers in my heart “I know child, I know.”

And so “I lay my ‘whys’ before your cross — In worship kneeling. My mind too numb for thought. My heart beyond all feeling. And worshiping realize that I – in knowing You, don’t need a ‘why’. “*

poem by Ruth Bell Graham, wife of Billy Graham.

When Faith Walks

Published on by Marilyn16 Comments

A man walks with the aid of a walking stick.

When you’ve reached the end of the road and there is no map — that’s when faith walks.

When you’ve exhausted every plausible possibility, every scenario, every idea — that’s when faith walks.

When you’ve cried every tear there is to cry and your eyes are so puffy, your vision so blurred, that you can hardly see; when you’ve struggled so long and so hard that you are physically exhausted; when you’ve confessed every sin there is to confess and then some, but still there are no answers — that’s when faith walks.

It walks softly and it doesn’t carry a big stick. It walks silently so you hardly know it’s there. It walks when you get up in the morning, when what you’d rather do is crawl under the bed and fade away.

Faith walks when you put one foot in front of the other, take a shower and go out the door. It walks when you sit, mind blurry, feeling like you can’t go on – but you do. It walks when you pick up that phone and call a friend, a counselor, a mom.

Faith walks softly and steadily when day after day you’re not really sure what you are doing, what you are accomplishing. Faith walks bravely when you cry out to a silent Heaven and reach forth to an invisible God.

Faith walks slowly, imperceptibly. It doesn’t run, it doesn’t sprint, it may have arthritic knees and achy bones – but it still walks.

Matt: The World’s Greatest Diplomat

Published on by Marilyn24 Comments

Matt Harding at Dizengoff, Tel-Aviv

You may have seen him – He’s pretty average looking — not too tall, nor too short, average build, brown hair. Evidently he didn’t get great grades in high school and now he lives in Seattle. To my knowledge he didn’t take the Foreign Service Exam – he may not even know what it is. In fact, he reports that he’s not even that great a dancer. But he is, without doubt, the world’s greatest diplomat and we need more like him.

He’s Matt – the guy that goes around the world and dances. From Damascus to North Korea, Puerto Rico to Karachi, he brings his rhythm and charm, dancing with as few as two and as many as hundreds.  At first glance it looks simple, but look farther and you will see the choreography, the planning, and the attention to detail.

My sister-in-law, Terry, once told me that the best marriage counseling takes place on the dance floor. It’s about leading and following; negotiating and creating; communicating and working together. What is true for marriages is true for diplomacy. In dancing around the world Matt demonstrates a multitude of skills needed in diplomacy. He communicates, negotiates, leads, teaches, strategizes, creates, encourages, and convinces.

His dancing communicates across boundaries in a way that my words never will, and so today I bring you: Where the Hell is Matt? 2012

If you’re sick of politics and misunderstandings, anger and miscommunication, I urge you to stop what you’re doing now and watch this video. It will be four and a half of the best spent minutes of your day – I guarantee it.

I can’t help but think this is a little what Heaven will be like – only it will be Jesus front and center. Thanks for reading and watching and please let me know what you think!

And spread the fun! Share Matt with others.

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In a Few Short Moments

Published on by Marilyn12 Comments

There are moments when I realize how much I don’t get about courage, about resilience, about living in grace despite circumstances. In my sometimes whiny little world and mind I think I know these things, I think I can explain and write about them, analyze and describe. And then I hear a story that expands my thinking so hugely that in a pause my perspective changes. I realize I know so little and I move forward not quite the same.  Those moments come when I am least looking for them;they are here, then gone.

The following story is one of those moments.

She was a single mom of two teen girls working as a nurse at a large medical center on the New Hampshire/Vermont border. She had separated from her husband and he, in a fit of abusive rage, showed up one night. After beating her senseless he sprayed industrial strength lye all over her body.

In a few short moments all of life had changed.

Lye continued to eat away at skin and tissue for 72 hours so initially it was a waiting game. In the end, 92% of her body was burned.

And the resilience of the human spirit kicked in – for she didn’t die. She lived. She fought with body, mind, and soul. She fought through over 45 surgeries and almost as many skin grafts. She fought, and still fights, through unimaginable pain and emotional suffering. But she survived.

I heard the story from her mom. We were in Thetford, Vermont with my niece and her husband.

Thetford is quintessential New England with miles of rolling hills, white-steepled churches, and small gas stations that, in lieu of local grocery stores, sell milk costing massive amounts of money. It’s a place where you bask in quiet and hospitality, and,if you’re lucky, a Labor Day parade and fire department sponsored chicken barbecue. Thetford is picture-postcard Vermont; an unlikely place for a horror story. 

While in line for the barbecue my husband began joking with a woman who looked somewhat lost as she wandered to where we were. We made a space for her and began talking. By the time we arrived at the tables laden with chicken, baked beans, coleslaw and home-made pie we heard the story.

“I learned what living hell on earth was” said the mom, shaking her head.Her voice trailed off  “But I also learned what Heaven was. Seeing her walk through the door when she came home from the hospital? That was Heaven.” I looked at her and had nothing to say. All I could think was how little I understand of the resilience of the human spirit – that spirit that reflects the image of God.

Into this unimaginable story of living through abuse, living through the healing and scars of burns that cover your entire body, living through the moment by moment nightmare that is survival, comes a will and a strength that can’t be stopped. Blind, disfigured in a way that makes people recoil, but facing this with courage and resilience. This is the wild grace and spirit of God.

The interaction was a few short moments. I lost sight of the woman as we looped around tables laden with home-made food. But a few moments is enough.

Enough to burn 92% of a body; enough to think your life is over; enough to know life will never be the same; enough to be given the will to live. Enough to have a conversation that reminds you how little you know of Strength and Resilience, wild Grace and God.

Bloggers Note: The woman who survived this act of violence is Carmen Tarleton. You can read her story here.