The Coming of the Prince of Peace

“Songs, music, good feelings, beautiful liturgies, nice presents, big dinners, and many sweet words do not make Christmas. Christmas is saying “yes” to something beyond all emotions and feelings. Christmas is saying “yes” to a hope based on God’s initiative, which has nothing to do with what I think or feel. Christmas is believing that the salvation of the world is God’s work and not mine. Things will never look just right or feel just right. If they did, someone would be lying. But it is into this broken world that a child is born who is called Son of the Most High, Prince of Peace, Savior.”

Henri Nouwen

Peace, like joy, is often misunderstood and found in counterfeit in the world. What we want peace to be and what peace is are two different things. I want peace to be no storms in my sailing. What peace actually look like is Jesus present and fully at ease, sleeping in my boat during the sudden storms of life. Whether it is job loss, an unexpected diagnosis, family stresses, you name it, He’s in the boat as those waves start crashing over the bow.

Peace, “shalom” in Hebrew, has a meaning we sometimes miss. It is completeness. If you have already grasped onto the message of hope, faith, and joy, you are well aware that we are not complete and can not make ourselves to be complete. We do not have that power, though the Lord knows as He watches us that we try. We try to find completeness is careers, family, a Pinterest perfect life, alcohol, sex, or just trying really, really hard. We come to the end of ourselves and realize, quite often with a bit of pain and even wounded pride, that we can’t do it. We can’t manufacture peace any more than we can manufacture joy or hope. We can, however, choose them all. 

When we step out in faith in Jesus, all the others are granted to us:

“Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ, through whom we have gained access by faith into this grace in which we stand. And we rejoice in the hope of the glory of God. Not only that, but we also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out His love into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, whom He has given us.“

(Romans 5:1-5 Berean Study Bible)

After choosing faith, we have peace with God through Jesus. Jesus is called the Prince of Peace. Micah 5:5 tells us “He will be our peace,” as does Ephesians 2:13-14. Isaiah 26:3-4 reminds us that God will keep us in perfect peace if we trust Him. Jesus tells his disciples that the Holy Spirit will come to them and teach them and live within them. “Peace I leave with you: My peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, do not be afraid.” The coming of the Holy Spirt and HIs permanent presence in our lives can only bring us peace—shalom—completeness. We know this is true, because “He who began a good work in you will be faithful to complete it (Philippians 1:6.) The good work of salvation and sanctification have been and are being completed within us, making us complete and giving us shalom that passes our very understanding. 

So again, this peace, like the hope, faith and joy that have come before are gifts we can choose to reach out and take. They are fruit of the spirit, created by God and given by Jesus. Will we accept them? Cultivate them? Rest in them? Will we remain in them and continue to believe they are present, even when we don’t “feel” them on hard days or weeks or months?

The song I return to every Advent, every Christmas is by Jennifer Martin, who used to lead worship at our church and is now a priest in the Anglican Church. It is a song for those of us who feel our earthly brokenness in the midst of heavenly wholeness. It is a song for those who long for the great healing of body, mind, soul, and spirit, a healing that we await for with great hope, faith, joy, and peace.

Verse 1

Baby born in Bethlehem

Come be born in me again

Since You don’t mind dirty stables

Here’s my heart not fit or able

To receive such majesty

Still, You humbly come to me

Chorus

O come, O come

O come, O come, be born again

Verse 2

Chosen One who chose to be

Suff’ring Savior, Servant King

Since You don’t despise the broken

Here’s my life laid bare and open

To receive Your mercy

As Your Spirit calls to me

Chorus

O come, O come

O come, O come, be born again

Verse 3

And all who struggle, all who sin

Come and become born again

Come and lay your heavy burdens

At the cross where alls forgiven

At His feet new life begins

Come, O sinner and enter in

Chorus

O come, O come

O come, O come, be born again

At this time of year, we invite Him in again and enter into a renewed relationship. We humbly ask for renewed hope, faith, joy and peace to be born in us again!

Nativity scene, St. Vitus Cathedral, Prague, Czech Republic.

Quotes from the Bible were found on biblehub.com. Henri Nouwen’s quote was found on the Henri Nouwen Society Instagram account. “O Come Be Born Again” words and music by Jennifer Martin © 1999 worshiptogether.com. All photographs are my own.

The Joy in the Journey of Advent

This journey of Advent, through hope and faith, has now reached joy and I really don’t know how to ever get to joy without the previous two. How is true joy even possible? Without hope and faith what may look like joy is a poor counterfeit of the joy of the Lord. But when looking at the winds and waves of life, it’s easy for joy to disappear. Where can I find it?

What is joy? To describe it as a mere emotion is to make it shallow, when its depths are so rich. Happiness is an emotion, changeable and deserting us at the chance of circumstance or whim. Joy is a gift. Like all the other weeks in Advent, it is wrapped up and given to us by the Spirit as fruit. Remember? Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, and faithfulness, fruit of the Spirit, an all inclusive package deal, given regardless of circumstance and cultivated through all circumstances we find ourselves in. Regardless of diagnosis, pandemic, economic hardship, persecution, family dysfunction, they are a gift for all who believe, if we will reach out and choose to take it.

I turn to 1 Peter and the first chapter catches my eye and in verses 3-9, I see how hope and faith proceed joy:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ! By His great mercy He has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead, and into an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, reserved in heaven for you, who through faith are shielded by God’s power for the salvation that is ready to be revealed in the last time.

In this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in various trials so that the proven character of your faith—more precious than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire—may result in praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.

Though you have not seen Him, you love Him; and though you do not see Him now, you believe in Him and rejoice with an inexpressible and glorious joy, now that you are receiving the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls. (1 Peter 1:3-9)

I need to dive into this Greek word for joy in verse 8. After all, Peter has just said these believers who are suffering grief in trial are rejoicing, literally jumping with joy. I want to know more about this joy! Strong’s Concordance lists joy as “chara,” meaning joy or delight. HELPS Word-Studies lists the following cognates and paints a picture I can see and understand in a way for those days joy in and of itself doesn’t make sense in the natural. “Xairo” means “rejoice because of grace,” and “Xara” means “joy because of grace” and “Xaris” means “grace.” Digging further, chara or xara means the “awareness of God’s grace,” or “joy—grace recognized.” 

These all swirl in my head, and there is an answer to a long held question. One I have believed in faith though I haven’t always understood in practice. How can I have joy in this journey? How can I have joy and rejoice in the midst of chemo and lost hair, lost tastebuds, and lost experiences? In the middle of “the most wonderful time of the year,” when I feel too nauseated or exhausted to even participate in a zoom call to Christmas parties that my immune system combined with a pandemic won’t allow me to attend in person? In not feeling well enough to work and wondering how on earth our finances will ever be untangled. How am I to exult or rejoice or jump for joy, not for all this, but in all this? Finally, I have an answer. Suddenly a new lens comes before my eyes, one that sharpens my focus. It shakes me to the core and my soul answers, “Yes, and amen!”

I can rejoice with inexpressible and glorious joy—because joy is grace recognized. I am aware of God’s grace in this journey of life. Not the smooth path or easy way of worldly ideas of blessing that can be taken away at any moment, dashed to pieces in confusion and chaos and doubt. This is deep grace—salvation grace. A recognition of grace undeserved, yet freely given at such a price to the giver it almost hurts my heart to imagine the cost. This joy in and of itself is a gift as I see it in the action of grace poured out for me. There is a gift of grace in “If God is for us, who can be against us?” (Romans 8:31) and “I am convinced that nothing in all creation can separate us from God’s love for us in Christ Jesus our Lord!” (Romans 8:39)

Regardless of what life is looking like and feeling like, joy is available for me, as both a gift and a choice. There is joy because I recognize grace. I accept it through faith, and I have hope for that which I cannot see. So today, and everyday, I can choose joy on this journey of Advent and journey of life. Will you join me in choosing joy? We journey through joy toward next week’s focus of peace with the promise of Isaiah 55:12, “You will indeed go out with joy and be led forth in peace.”

All references to Strong’s Concordance and HELPS-Word Studies, and the Bible quotes are found on www.biblehub.com.

Walking Faithfully Through Advent

We walk by faith, not by outward appearance.

2 Corinthians 5:7

There are lots of versions of Advent and what the candles stand for. Since it’s something we have invented instead of being commanded in the Bible, I think we have leeway to use whatever version applies best. I’m choosing Week Two to be Faith. I can’t get to the joy and peace until I’m grounded firmly in faith and enveloped in hope!

So many verses that mention faith mention hope:

 Let us hold unswervingly to the hope we profess, for he who promised is faithful.

Hebrews 10: 23

Now faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.

Hebrews 11:1

We remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ.

1 Thessalonians 1:3

Paul, a servant of God and an apostle of Jesus Christ to further the faith of God’s elect and their knowledge of the truth that leads to godliness—in the hope of eternal life, which God, who does not lie, promised before the beginning of time.

Titus 1:1-2

Through him you believe in God, who raised him from the dead and glorified him, and so your faith and hope are in God.

1 Peter 1:21

Faith and hope, these golden threads shot through our lives, support each other, lift each other up and are entangled in a way that I cannot separate. I cannot have one without the other it seems. They create a holy tension in my life, a joining of the Alpha and Omega, Beginning and End between the already taken place first coming and the faithful hope in the assured second coming, they are present. How can I have joy and peace if I have not the hope in that which I cannot see, or don’t have faith in what is ultimately on the way–the return of the Lord? I have hope because I have faith and my faith is strengthened in hope, even in dark days.

Faith in times of trial is the sweetest, as it has been tested, tried, and confirmed to be a worthy foundation, and I have found that true this year. These are days of faith as I continue to wait. I have faith that all is being worked for my good according to His plan and hope that I can bear the process. I have faith that He who began a good work in me will be faithful to complete it, even on days when my hope runs thin and I despair that I will never change. I have faith that He is with me always, and He is healing me in His own time and His own way.

I think of the virgins waiting for the bridegroom who is coming to the wedding feast, and wonder how to fill my lamp and keep it trimmed. I fill it with the Word of God, the testimony of the saints, the prayers that I can muster—prayers of praise and intercession for those around me and myself, and the good deeds He has prepared before me before the beginning of time. I don’t really know what else to do as I watch and wait in this darkened, broken world, even if I fall asleep while I’m waiting. We are to be ready to shine the light of eternal light that we’ve been given as a gift, ready when it’s needed or wanted or asked for, by a fellow believer in need of hope or a nonbeliever searching for faith. 

And I thank the One, in whom I am to place my faith, yet He is also the author of my faith (Hebrews 12:2), and the One who finishes, completes, and perfects it! He, in whom I am to place my hope, and yet I have been chosen to see the hope of glory, the riches of the mystery of Christ within me (Colossians 1:27.) Faith and hope are mine—provisions and bestowals of grace—if I only receive them, and mine to cultivate into deeper places into my soul. As I claim these precious gifts, I am promised strength renewed: soaring on eagles’ wings, running without growing weary, and walking without fainting (Isaiah 40:31.) And on days when I cry “I believe! Help me in my unbelief,” (Mark 29:24) He is there, not chastising the lack of depth of faith, but reminding me of His promises, and delivering them. 

“But this I call to mind,
    and therefore I have hope: 

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases;
    his mercies never come to an end; 

they are new every morning;
    great is your faithfulness.

‘The Lord is my portion,’ says my soul,
     ‘therefore I will hope in him.’” Lamentations 3:21-24

Hope in a Broken World

“For there is hope for a tree, if it is cut down, that it will sprout again, and that its tender shoots will not cease. Though its root may grow old in the earth, and its stump may die in the ground, [yet] at the scent of water it will bud and bring forth branches like a plant.”

Job 14:7-9

“’What is the scent of water?’ ‘Renewal. The goodness of God coming down like dew.’” 

Elizabeth Goudge, The Scent of Water

It is time for hope—and what is that looking like for you? I am awaiting so much this year, as I wait and sometimes feel there is nothing I can do EXCEPT wait. So many questions of hoping and waiting and preparing. How can I prepare the way for the Lord? How can I make the path smooth and clear? How can I hope for the future, both the near future and the future that stretches on ahead when every day seems so long and so short and sometimes so futile while I simply manage day-to-day symptoms that make it hard to remember this is temporary. What if even hope seems a little broken and skewed this year? How is there hope in this broken world?

Oh, this broken world! But of course He came into a broken world. He walked in the garden in the unbroken world, before we messed it up and then miracle of all miracles, He returned, not in vengeance and anger, not in majesty and splendid glory, but quietly and humbly into a broken world. He spent His ministry healing broken people, then used broken bread and a torn curtain to show us The Way back home—that there was and is hope. Anyone who humbly holds up their arms, like a small child wanting to be lifted up, will find His hands, scarred with nail holes, already reaching out to them, with a hope and a future and love unimaginable. And He gives hope by promising His second return, this time in power and glory and might!

“Behold, He is coming with the clouds, and every eye will see Him—even those who pierced Him. And all the tribes of the earth will mourn because of Him. So shall it be! Amen.” Revelation 1:7

For me, this year, hope as the first piece of this Advent-as-waiting, is a sanctuary. Sanctuary as a holy place of refuge in the middle of the chaos of the world. A sanctuary within the turmoil.

A couple of years ago, my word for the year was hope and I studied passages that mentioned hope through the Old and New Testaments. One scripture was Psalm 146:5-6. The words of hope rang true and I still see the place of sanctuary in it for me this year.

“Blessed is he whose help is the God of Jacob, whose hope is in the LORD his God, Maker of heaven and earth, the sea and everything in them. He remains faithful forever.” Psalm 146:5-6

As I studied Strong’s Hebrew, the last sentence of this verse expanded into this beautiful word picture:

“God remains faithful—He puts his hedge about us to guard, protect and attend to us with stability, certainty, truth, and trustworthiness—forever, for eternity, for always.”

I can place my hope in God, because He remains faithful. He reminds me of His faithfulness in His Word. He cannot lie (Numbers 23:19), He keeps His promises (2 Peter 3:9), He is righteous (Zechariah 9:9) and my righteousness (1 Corinthians 1:30), He will be my peace (Ephesians 2:14), He will never leave me or forsake me (Deuteronomy 31:6), He is my strength in my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9-10), He sent the Comforter live within me (John 14:16-17) and intercede on my behalf with groans (Romans 8:26-27), and He is coming back for me (John 14:1-3.)

I cannot easily separate out my hope from what next week’s focus is, faith—or joy or peace or love for that matter. They are so intertwined throughout the Bible,  woven together into a tapestry of hope, faith, peace, and joy, held together by love and grace, and every thread is precious.

So I rest today in this hope, things hoped for and not yet seen. My work in hope is reaching out toward the only One who can truly give us hope, and then resting in a place of hope as a sanctuary. I echo the prayer of Jesus, “Not my will but yours be done,” and place my hope in Him.

 “May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.”

Romans 15:13

A Beautifully Broken Advent

This countdown to “The Big Day” isn’t as it should be. Or is it? This year seems different. It feels different. Perhaps it’s simply more real than I’ve allowed it to be in past. Perhaps any pretense has been stripped away in the realness of life.

Don’t get me wrong. I love this season. So much of it! The lights and decorations. The music. The tree. Being with others and celebrating. The food. The baking. The gift wrapping and surprises. The funny secrets kept from siblings. The movies. I love it. It’s fun and happy and nurturing. In a world that has seemed harder than usual, it’s easy to think, “We deserve this party month!” No wonder all the shops want to start selling their Christmas decorations and stuff early. Not just for the money, but because so many people want it. They want the fun!

We’ve been intentional about holidays at our house, not just Christmas. Thanksgiving is given its due respect and weight—would you expect less from someone who keeps eucharisteo so close? Christmas music and decorations and everything else wait until the day after Thanksgiving at our house. And what I would call our Christmas liturgy is understated compared to many people’s celebration. We use the same decor every year, adding only new photo ornaments of each of the kids and perhaps a new homemade ornament everyone’s made. We have the same treats we make throughout the month of December and pretty much the same menu for Christmas Eve and Day (if you’re curious, it’s leftovers in our jammies on the 25th because life’s too short to spend Christmas Day in the kitchen.) Southern Living or Martha Stewart ain’t knocking at my backdoor to feature us in their online Christmas decor issues. We use the same Advent book as we did when my oldest was two, and put our ornaments I made with my friend Stacy so many years ago on the Jesse Tree. I love making Christmas special, cozy, contemplative, and a bit low-key for my family.

But this year…this year seems already to be stripped back. As my treatment progresses, my fatigue increases. All the online ideas of “fun” things to do seem unlikely and difficult. Drying orange slices and stirring popcorn for homemade decor? Nope. Bundling up everyone at 9 pm to go look at Christmas lights and drink Starbucks? This is Nashville, people. It’s probably 65 degrees and by 9:00, I’m dozing through my second nap of the evening, and everything above lukewarm tastes like metal. Get togethers with friends and family, and even the candlelight service at church? With Covid still present, a limited immune system, and my final chemo schedule December 23rd, it ain’t happening. Nothing this Christmas looks the same for me, at least very little. 

So. what do you do, when what was part of the very liturgy of the season is stripped away? No parties, no tasty treats, no going out to find those last minute Christmas presents, no meeting a friend for tea to catch up, no in-person church services, no in-person family get togethers. Instead, the weeks leading up to “The Most Wonderful Time of the Year” aren’t that wonderful. It’s lab draws, masked doctor appointments, last chemo scheduled 2 days before Christmas, days of nausea, and other fun GI effects, no immune system, everything tasting like nothing, and not being able to take your kids to fun places or let them do that many things to protect you.

What do you do with what’s left of Advent and Christmas?

You wait.

That’s what Advent is, after all. It’s a fast for “the coming.” And what do you do when something  or someone is coming?

You prepare and you wait.

It’s the Great Waiting. Not the greatest waiting, although if you’re in the advent for the second coming, it is.

Right now, I count the days, every day. How many days since chemo? How many days left til chemo? How many days of semi-tasting do I have? Should I go ahead and refill all my prescriptions? The days are very important right now. I can tell you how many hours til the metallic taste and bone pain starts and when they ease; which day I’ll probably fall asleep four times. Which Sunday that I can’t tolerate grape juice for communion. Which day I can eat whatever I want, even if the taste is disappointing, because my mouth cells are starting to grow instead of die. The days and times are important to me. It gives me a sense of time. and place and even purpose.  And every time I walk into “The Treatment Room,” it’s one less time I need to go. 

This is truly an advent of waiting for me—somehow simultaneously living in, trusting in, and waiting for Hope, Faith, Joy, and Peace. This is an advent of waiting and wondering. How do I both prepare and wait? How can I do it? 

I don’t know. You didn’t really think I had all the answers, did you?

I don’t know, but these are things I’ll be exploring over the next weeks: this coming, this waiting for those of us broken—for all of us. How do we walk through these weeks of anticipation, these days of hope, faith, joy and peace, all wrapped up in love? How do we stagger down this path of waiting when sometimes, we don’t feel any of them? How do we wait for advent? Or better, how do we wait in advent?

 An advent for the shalom and completeness of God.

The waiting for the arrival by the beautifully broken.

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

It is as it should be, this Advent: jagged, unpredictable, sometimes silent and at times harsh in the bright light of heaven shining into the darkness of this world.

So, to the broken, the weary, come as you are. To the bewildered, to those who are hurting, you are welcome here. To the wounded and grieving, to the fasting or the feasting, there is room in Advent for you. 

“And the Spirit and the Bride say, ‘Come’. And let the one hearing say, ‘Come.’ And let the one thirsting, come. Let the one wanting, take the water of life as a gift…The One testifying these things says, ‘Yes, I am coming quickly’. Amen. Come, Lord Jesus.” Revelation 22:17 and 20

The Lord’s Favor, realigned

I have spent a good deal of time the last few weeks wondering about the favor of God. It is a word often thrown around in Christian circles, and it’s something I believe in, but honestly, the last few months have made me feel a little like Inigo Montoya, the swordsman in “The Princess Bride.” The swordsman tells the little Sicilian, “You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.” Because if it only means God giving us what we want when it comes to careers, or awesome things coming into our lives unexpectedly, or Him giving us something we ask for so we don’t face consequences for our actions, or just making everything in our lives easy or great, then I’ve felt like a very unfavored daughter lately.

I have a devastating diagnosis and our lives have been both uprooted and put on pause. My husband’s pre-pandemic work hasn’t come back and he has taken a job simply for the insurance and to help us scrape by financially. The job I was planning on getting this fall has been put on hold by my immune system and response to chemotherapy. My family can’t leave the house without a mask or return without a shower because despite what the world tells you, people are still at risk of dying from this virus, I’m vulnerable, and many people don’t realize their “personal” choices to not mask and vaccinate personally affect other people. Every day we consider how risky every behavior choice is. We missed our annual fall trip to the beach. My children can’t regularly go to church and going to other people’s house is very difficult because of the need for others to mask at close quarters. Almost all normal is gone. This. Is. Hard.

The Lord’s favor doesn’t look like most people think it does—at least not all the time. God’s favor is that He is with us in the unbelievable hard, not that He takes the hard away. He could, but that would be easy. Poof! All this is instantly gone and we get to go back to “real life.” Nope. While I’d prefer instant healing from this disease, that’s not how His favor has looked in our lives.

The real favor is that He shows up every day. Every morning His mercies are new. He shows up in meals from friends who faithfully feed my family. He shows up in cards, flowers, and texts full of encouragement on days when I feel discouraged. He shows up when I don’t have to try to figure out how to get my kids to ballet or tutorial, because someone’s already volunteered to do it. He shows us when my friends come sit in the shade at a distance in their masks so I can have some sort of contact with other people. God’s favor shows up when the entire youth group decides to wear masks so my kids can go to church on Wednesday night. He shows up when my dear friends find old pictures and videos of us together and send them, along with encouraging words to my daughter so she can make a video to encourage me. 

He shows up when I read His words of comfort and peace written so long ago and the Holy Spirit floods my weary body. He shows up when I am exhausted on the couch and wondering why I’m so tired when all I’m doing is resting, and He says, “Resting? It may look like resting to everyone else, but this is what healing looks like! Rest your body, mind, and spirit, daughter of mine! Inside you are fighting the physical battle of your life.”

He shows up when, instead of trying to make lemonade out of lemons, I tell Him I want a chocolate shake. When I tell Him that this is too hard, that I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to look like a cross between a piece of velcro and a spiky hedgehog anymore. When I want to be able to cook for my family, have friends over for dinner, or help someone else, and I just can’t. When I want food to taste like food again instead of metal. When I want something to be good and easy and it’s just not. Even when I tell Him all those things, God still shows up.

In fact, He never leaves. He’s already there and Holy Spirit, like Job’s friends in their good hours, sits with me. He sits quietly with me as I grieve the losses and He grieves too. He comforts me, and He lets me grieve what I have lost. I have learned I can grieve and mourn AND be full of eucharisteo at the same time–and you know what? God’s good with that! The grieving of the faithful who trust God in the midst of their pain–it is such a gift. He doesn’t discount my pain and suffering, acting as if it were unimportant. It is important. His pain and suffering on the cross were important. He knows what pain and suffering feels like. He wept when Lazarus died—He did not deny himself the pain of loss that we experience here. He walked through it Himself, for us, so we would be comforted by His tears.

We do not grieve as those who do not know Him (1 Thessalonians 4:13). The Bible doesn’t say we do not and will not grieve while here on earth. Our grief is not the same because we understand the temporary nature of our grief within this world we live in. But it still hurts. In the midst of and in spite of our circumstances, He fulfills His promises to be with us always. Always? Yes. When it hurts almost too much to bear. When it feels like we’ve been abandoned because there are so many hurts and hurdles at once, and how could God’s favor be on anyone in these circumstances? When we feel betrayed and alone in our battles, He is there. Jesus felt abandoned (Matthew 26:40.) He was betrayed (Matthew 26:16.) He felt alone (Matthew 27:46.) Our High Priest and Comforter come to us from a place of experiencing pain and hurt. He comes from a place of tears (John 11:35), and the groans too deep for words that the Spirit utters on our behalf (Romans 8:26-28) comes from a place of understanding in our plights here on earth, however light and momentary they are this side of heaven.

And if having the Spirit both living inside us and never leaving us, while at the same time interceding in the throne room of heaven on our behalf, as God works all things—even this diagnosis and financial hardship, and the lessons I wished my kids didn’t have to learn—together for good because we love Him, and are called by Him, and are being conformed to the image of His Son, well, if that isn’t God’s favor, I don’t know what is. And while on some days, I’d rather have God’s favor look different in my life, I will take the favor I am given, from a sovereign God who knows that what I need is more important than what I want, with the grateful heart of a daughter who trusts Him.

Long time, no write

It’s been a very long time since I’ve been here. A very long time. My last posts were on Advent 2018. Before that, it was 2016, and my oldest daughter was starting a gap year and moved out for the first time. Since I’ve last written, my daughter went to Ukraine for a semester with YWAM, came home, started college, got married, graduated from college, and moved out west to Montana. My other kids have also grown–my oldest son graduated from high school (also during the pandemic,) got his drivers’ license, became an Eagle Scout and is now working and starting a business of his own. My youngest daughter is a senior in high school (yes–I will have three children graduate mid-pandemic) and the tiny little boy from my earlier preschool activity posts is now in the 10th grade.

Still my never picture perfect children…

Life marches on, whether you blog about it or not…

Our family dynamics have changed. I’ve only two kids left in our little homeschool. My senior is almost completely independent in all her studies and my son attends a tutorial where he takes geometry, chemistry, and American Literature. Time for mama to go back to work, at least part time. That was the plan. I was not wanting to return to bedside nursing and 12 hour shifts. I’m not 22 anymore! After teaching my kids for 20 years at home, I was interested patient or staff education or case management. Life had other plans. God had other plans. Actually, God had plans to redeem what Satan meant for evil in my life.

“Before” major pre-chemo haircut

I’m started my 20th year of homeschooling with a new diagnosis of breast cancer. This was not anywhere in my 5-year plan, 10-year plan, or any year plan. Honestly, I never made those plans anyway– I never even get around to New Year’s Resolutions–but it would not have been included had I had the discipline to do them. It is never convenient or pleasant or fun. I am not happy about it, and somedays I’m downright mad. I want to have my daughter’s senior year to savor and hang out with the other tutorial moms in the parking lot, chatting while waiting on our kids to finish up. I want to volunteer as Cookie Chair for one last Nutcracker, be the all day parent at Tutorial, make costumes for the Spring Musical. That is not what’s happening this year.

My transitional haircut and headband

Instead, I have found myself for the last couple of months going from procedure and test to lab draw to oncologist visit to finally five weeks ago, my first chemo treatment. The last weeks have been learning to monitor my body’s response to these drugs, managing symptoms and feeling a little like Rapunzel locked in her tower (without the glowing hair or mean kidnapper) as my blood counts fell and my risk for catching every germ around rose. It’s been a spin of the wheel to see what symptoms I will wake up with next. Nausea gone? Great! Now that you want to eat, everything tastes like cardboard or metal. Finally tasting salsa and garlic powder? Lovely, today I’ll give you a few tastebuds back, but I’m giving unbelievable fatigue. Fatigue slipping away? Awesome! Let’s have that hair start to fall out. It feels like I’m playing some bizarre game that’s me on one side of the table and cancer/chemo meds on the other. It’s some combination of Russian roulette (Is this a safe activity for your kids, if they mask but no one else does? How far down the risk bucket are we this week?), Wheel of Fortune (“Pat, I’ll take N for Neulasta for increased blood marrow. Yes, I know it causes bone pain.”), Jeopardy (“I’ll take chemically induced menopause for $300, Mayim”), and Choose your Own Adventure, only I don’t get to choose.

The cat is out of the bag. We have so much less control over our lives than we think.

Starting round one…

Despite all the hard things, probably because of them, I have learned so much these past few months. So much about what I can and can’t control. Last year during the lockdown I started to teach a Sunday School class via zoom. At the end of the year we revisited Ann Voskamp’s One Thousand Gifts, an old favorite of mine. I’d had two copies that I’d given away to friends and finally got one on my Kindle so I’d have it on hand. I reconnected with my gratitude list. The habit of looking out for gifts from the Lord and being grateful had been an integral part of dealing with my husband’s job losses and other difficult issues we have walked through over the past 10 years. I didn’t know how much I would need this in 2021, even more than 2020.

So I feel like while so much has changed since I started this blog, I am back to the basics of giving thanks. I am learning to find the gift in what is going on, to give thanks in every circumstance. Not FOR every circumstance. Perhaps a more mature believer can do that, but 1 Thessalonians 5:18 actually says “in” which means within or “‘In the realm of’ as in ‘the condition in which something operates from inside.'” (Strong’s Concordance) I can give thanks within the circumstance I am in, even if I’m not going to praise Him for the circumstance itself. His constant presence with me, the fulfillment of the promise “I will never leave you or forsake you” is enough to be praised for the rest of my life!

My son and I on Head Shaving Party Day

I hope to continue to blog through this journey. I won’t promise regularly scheduled posts, because I don’t know what today holds, much less tomorrow or the rest of the year. I hope I can, because it helps me, and I pray can give a little hope to others. But every day is a new adventure around here right now, so we shall see. Prayers for healing and recovery, for my family as they walk through this unexpected journey are most appreciated.

Coming of the Prince of Peace

I have spent the second week of Advent studying and contemplating peace. Our earthly peace is no good—it’s incomplete, short-lived, and often just an illusion. Jesus talked about giving us His peace, not giving it as the world gives peace. One of the keys to understanding the peace Jesus gives is understanding what the word means. One of my favorite definitions of the Hebrew word “shalom” is completeness. 

sjengraving

What peace that brings! His peace brings completeness. Wholeness. We are complete within His peace, and the opposite is also true. We are not complete when we are not within His peace. He competes everything within us—our salvation, our reconciliation, our righteousness. Shalom means peace with God. It’s what He came to do and be. He is our peace. Paul reminded the early Christians, that “He who began a good work will be faithful to complete it.” (Philippians 1:6) He completes the good work of salvation, both on the cross and everyday since then. Our completeness within Him delivers us both to the foot of the cross and throne room of God.

One of the things I have learned this past year is being reminded of the paradox of the peace of God. I have spent years juggling life to keep everything going in the middle of crises, taking care that no plates stopped spinning and shattered, that everything carried on as time marched on. But what works in crisis can’t be sustained forever. I have spent the year learning that I am not enough—I can’t do it all. But I’ve also started rebuilding and learning that I am enough. But I’m only enough when I operate within Him—His love, His care, His plan, His parameters.

“Oh Bethlehem” by Deborah Gall

 “But He said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities.  For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10) I never really understood that very well, and it’s something I’m still learning. In my weakness, He is strong—He is, not me—not my strength. If it was mine alone, I wouldn’t need him. That’s where pride seeps in and started to take root.

I’ve tried to be enough, but I am not enough. I am not enough and it leads to fear and anxiety and shame, because I just can’t do it on my own—can’t fix it, prevent it, make it go away. But in Him, in His peace, I am complete. I am at peace within myself—heavenly redeemed, but an earthly broken state of humanly being not enough—not because He’s necessarily going to fix everything, but because He will never leave me or forsake me, and He is everything I need. When The Deceiver comes and whispers in my ear, “You can’t fix this/change this/redeem this, you know—you’re not strong enough/ smart enough/ powerful enough,” he has lost his power over me. I am working on the cheerful response, “You’re right, I’m not enough. But I know the One who is, and He has given me His strength and He is my peace.” There is peace even in the storm and the battle and the trouble of this world, and that peace is Jesus.

Advent Week Two: His Peace

There are many ways to celebrate Advent, and many names for the candles and what they represent. So far I’ve found the second candle to be the Bethlehem candle, or, peace, faith, preparation, love, or hope. This isn’t about “getting it right.” I’ve decided to focus the Bethlehem candle on peace this week.

Bethlehem is such an unlikely place in the world at the time of Jesus for peace. It was small, insignificant, and over-ruled by the Romans in an era known as “Pax Romana” or Roman Peace, that was enforced, often quite brutally, by the sword and the cross of the oppressors. The Jews had known for hundreds of years that one of the names of the coming Messiah was “Prince of Peace.” I’m sure many thought He would come to end the reign of the Romans and establish an earthly, Jewish kingdom of prominence. God’s peace looks quite different here on earth, doesn’t it?

When Jesus arrived, he was not heralded by the prominent Jews—Herod tried to ensure his death by the slaughter of so many Jewish boys! His almost indifference to the state of the world government must have been astonishing to those who believed Him to be the Messiah. He paid his taxes and told his followers to “render unto Caesar.” When His righteous anger burned about the stat of the world, he overturned the tables in the Temple, not the Roman Senate. His peace didn’t look anything like what was expected.

The peace of God is personal. It’s the peace brought personally by the Son and lives in us continuously within the Holy Spirit. It’s internal, not external. It’s the peace of sleeping on the boat through the storm, of walking through the angry crowd ready to stone Him. It’s the house built on the rock, weathering the storm, and not falling down. The verses so often spoken about His peace on earth are within the turmoil, and while we pursue it, given by Him. It is His peace, given to us.

“Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed says the Lord, who has compassion on you.” Isaiah 54:10

“You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace…” Isaiah 55:12

“Lord, you establish peace for us; all that we have accomplished you have done for us.” Isaiah 26:12

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace. In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” John 16:33

“Peace I leave you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be trouble and do not be afraid.” John 14:27

“Now may the Lord of peace himself give you peace at all times and in every way. The Lord be with all of you.” 2 Thessalonians 3:16

May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.” Romans 15:13

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Phillipians 4:6-7

It is a great comfort to me that I don’t have to manufacture peace, either internally or externally. It is a gift from God, a fruit of the Holy Spirit, in the middle of the storm or the stable. 

Hope: Come be Born Again

There are times in this life where hope seems to seep away. All we perceive is seen through a veil of tears. The loss seems greater than what we have left, the fear so heavy, the loneliness all-encompassing.  The pain can be bewildering in its intensity and unpredictable in its strike at our heart out of a clear blue sky. The hope of glory seems so far into the future of eternity it can barely be grasped as real. Those are the waiting times. 

Throughout history, we are not the only people to wait and wonder…Could it get much darker than it was for God’s chosen? The people of Israel had been captured and returned and now were ruled over by the Romans–builders of roads and empires and worshipers of many but the true God–oppressed by the rulers of the day, both secular and religious. Their own religion had become a burden of rules they couldn’t keep.  Other than His words from long, long ago, there seemed to be silence from the heavens. Four hundred years of silence. The people watched and waited and wondered. 

He came, and He didn’t look like they thought. They expected someone to save us from a hostile government and put them in their rightful place in the world. They got so much more. Somehow, the Son is the Eternal Father and Mighty God, an already an enigma, just in His names. The Messiah was also the Man of Sorrows. The High Priest was the Blessed Hope. The King was also the Comforter and Counselor. He was the Almighty and Abba. The Savior was also the Shepherd and Servant. The Rock of Ages and Refiner’s Fire was the Redeemer. No wonder God told Moses his name was “I Am!”

Coming of Hope

What hope in dark days! All He promised, He was and will be in the future, I AM is now. He promises us, “Truly I have spoken; truly I will bring it to pass. I have planned it, surely I will do it.” (Is 46:11) He is our hope and salvation even today. Not just for eternity, He is there to save us and give us hope for today. Even in the moments where all we can hear is a deafening silence. “For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Romans 8:24-25) As we wait for the renewal and rebirth of hope in this life, we are not alone. The author of Romans doesn’t stop with verse 25. He continues with this: 

Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness.

For we do not know what to pray for as we ought,

but the Spirit himself intercedes for us

with groanings too deep for words.

And he who searches hearts knows

what is the mind of the Spirit,

because the Spirit intercedes for the saints

according to the will of God.

And we know that

for those who love God

all things work together for good,

for those who are called according to his purpose.

Romans 8:26-28

We wait with patience as we hope for what we do not see, as the Spirit intercedes for us with groans according to the will of God. All these dark days work together for our good. He redeems the sadness and loneliness of our days. Our tears are not wasted. Psalm 56:8 says “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book…” I will admit. I don’t always know what that looks like or how it happens. And, in the middle of it, I’d rather not have the pain to redeem into a quiet joy. I’d rather have ease and happiness. Will you join me in the trusting of the One who knows the end from the beginning? Who can see that all this really does work together for good?

As this Advent week of hope draws to a close, I pray, asking to not lose hope.  I pray that we can again remember the anchor of hope of the soul, the Blessed Hope who has never left us or forsaken us. And if you’ve lost that hope, can we pray that it is born again within us all?

This is not my favorite version of this song. I love hearing the writer Jennifer Martin sing it very simply with a cello and piano, but that version is no longer available.