Eyes to See and Ears to Hear

            For some, last Monday's storm was an annoyance.  It caused the cancellation of sporting events and forced everyone to go indoors.  We were relaxing in our hammock in the back yard when we noticed that the dogs were getting antsy.  After looking at the radar, we decided we should cut our hammock time short.  My husband was not pleased.

For some, last Monday's storm was an exhilarating treat.  Thunderstorm lovers all over the Nebraska panhandle went out on their porches to take pictures and videos of the magnificent display.  They filled up everyone's Facebook feeds with the results along with excited statuses of admiration.  My husband is one such enthusiast, and he wishes he could be a storm chaser.  I usually prefer to appreciate storms from a safe distance.  

Picture by Brenda Houser

For some, last Monday's storm was destructive.  It hurled sizable chunks of ice at houses, vehicles, gardens, and crops.  We didn't get the hail, as far as I know, but our poor lilac bush was still stripped bare from the force of the rain and the wind.  

For me, above the annoyance, the exhilaration, and the destruction,  last Monday's storm turned out to be a comforting reminder of God's presence.

Early that Monday morning, my reading for the day was in Psalm 29.  I love that Psalm.  The first time I heard my husband teach God's Word (which was while we were dating), he taught through Psalm 29.  My first textual message for Women Teaching Women at school was over that Psalm.  The masterful use of imagery by the Psalmist grips me and blows my mind as it crescendos into a glorious climax of worship.  Psalm 29 has always had a special place in my heart, but this week it gained even more personal significance.  You see, Psalm 29 uses a poetic description of a thunderstorm to portray God's power and sovereignty.

The fact that God orchestrated my Bible reading and the storm to occur on the same day was cool enough.  It was as though He said, “Here are my words (which alone are sufficient), but I’m not going to stop there.  On top of that, I’m going to give you a visual and tangible demonstration of exactly what I’m trying to communicate to you.”  How awesome is that?  However, one more piece of this story just sends it through the roof for me.  My reading of Psalm 29 and the thunderstorm occurred the day before my appointment to have my next fertility test done.  God saw my nerves, and He reassured me that He was in control.  He saw my powerlessness, and He reassured me of His power.  He saw that I would have to walk into the intimidating X-ray room alone, and He reassured me of His presence.  God saw me, but if I hadn't been paying attention, would I have seen Him?  God spoke to me through His Word, but if I hadn’t taken the time to slow down, would I have heard it?     

Learning to Walk

Photo by Rebecca Cravens - P.S. This is not our current neighborhood. 😊

            Our neighborhood isn't the worst in town, but it is sketchy at times.  I'm not overly comfortable walking the dogs by myself, though I have done it occasionally.  When I do go by myself, I am tense and easily startled.  I much prefer to have my husband at my side.  His presence offers a sense of security that allows me to rest at ease and enjoy the walk.

My Friend and Her Son

In a similar way, I can sense a difference between when I am consciously walking with God throughout my day and when I have wandered off on my own.  In Psalm 16:8, David writes, "I have set the LORD continually before me; because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken."  When I cling to Jesus's hands in each moment like a child clings to his parents when he is first learning to walk, I have no reason to fear, worry, or be shocked at whatever comes my way.  He's holding, directing, and shielding me, and I am free to learn, explore, and laugh.  However, the moment I let go of Him and try to do it myself, I quickly learn that I don't know what I'm doing, and I find myself shaken and bruised as I smack into the ground.

Gently, with my own pain etched across His face, God picks me up again.  He asks, "Dear child, why did you let go?"  Unlike the child whom we hope will mature and learn to walk on his own apart from the help of his parents, we weren't made to outgrow our dependence on God.  John 15:5 confirms this when it says, "I am the vine, you are the branches; he who abides in Me and I in him, he bears much fruit, for apart from Me you can do nothing."  As we dwell in His presence, step by step, He produces vibrant life and rich fruit in our souls.  On the other hand, pulling away from the Source of life reduces us to chaff: useless, dry, abrasive, cracked, and empty shells of what we could be.  Not only that, but the longer we stay cut off from the Giver of life and good gifts, the more we become enveloped and consumed by the dry, deceptive, and arid land around us that constitutes the world and everything it offers. 

Abiding in Jesus isn't drudgery.  It isn't a rigid adherence to a dreadful and eternal list of impossible do's and don'ts.  Neither is it a suffocating and stifling insistence upon keeping oneself bound up in chains of false shame and guilt.  Walking with the Most High does not mean that we are doomed to robotic lives of joy-killed misery.  It certainly does not describe a life of stubborn, apathetic, or comfortable independence that only turns to Jesus when He seems appealing.

Abiding in Jesus means we stick with Him in every moment and in every circumstance.  We cultivate our relationship with Him by talking to Him and listening to Him as we go about our business, by remaining aware of His presence throughout the day, and by obeying His leading.  To abide in Christ, we must make time to be still before Him and to wait on Him.  We must realize that our relationship with Him doesn't affect just one part of our life, but that it transforms every aspect of our life.  Abiding in Christ is about a relationship: a relationship that is absolutely vital and apart from which we will certainly find ourselves shaken. 

We need Him desperately.  I need Him desperately.  Clinging to Him sets me free, fills me up, gives me purpose, and causes me to flourish.  That's what He wants for us.  He wants us to be green, lush, and wild with His life that springs up from His Spirit within us.  Why would we ever choose to grieve Him by letting go?

Feeling Forgotten: Photography & Psalm 13

            One photography skill I learned through 4-H was how to adjust the depth of field (DoF) in a photo.  To put it simply, DoF is the term used to describe the portion of the picture that is in focus.  A picture has a shallow DoF when the areas in front of and behind the subject are blurry.  In a picture with a deep DoF, the foreground and the background appear sharper.  Here are some examples to illustrate DoF:

            On Wednesday, my Scripture reading for the morning was Psalm 13, and I quickly discovered that the shift of focus in the Psalm is much like a shift in the DoF of a picture.  In the first four verses, David seems to be fixated on his current circumstances and feelings.  He expresses a deep sense of abandonment in his blunt questions and fervent entreaties.  While he focuses on his immediate and tangible sorrows and needs, the truth (along with the Source of truth) seems hazy and out of reach.  However, he takes a step back in verses 5 and 6 to bring the entire picture into a sharpened view, and we see a drastic and abrupt change in the tone of his writing.  He remembers God's trustworthy lovingkindness and joyous salvation, and he chooses to sing praises to God because of the truth that God "has dealt bountifully" with him. 

            I was so challenged by that sudden shift in perspective.  I think we all feel forgotten by God at times.  I know I do.  My doctor's appointment on Thursday didn't really yield any new information, good or bad, but as I walked back to my empty minivan in the rain with the options for our next steps swirling around in my head, I lost it.  I don't remember the last time I cried so violently or for so long.  Thankfully, my husband was super sweet about taking care of me for the rest of the evening, and I had Psalm 13 running through my mind from the day before. 

            I know God has shown me immeasurable grace.  I know He has given me every spiritual blessing.  I know He has given me His Son's precious blood and pure righteousness in exchange for my wretched sinfulness.  I know He cares, He has a plan, He has His own timing, and He can do the impossible.  I know He has dealt bountifully with me.  But can I let that knowledge sink into the depths of my soul, resulting in songs of praise, even when I feel abandoned and forgotten by God?  In those moments, can I really say with full conviction, authenticity, and rejoicing that God has dealt bountifully with me?  David could.

            There is a time for expressing the anguish, the questions, and the honest desperation of our hearts.  The key is to avoid getting stuck with only a shallow DoF.  We need God's Word and God's people to adjust us and bring us back to a deeper DoF where we can see the big picture, the truth, with clarity.  I am thankful that God could see the breached dam that would flood over me on Thursday and that He strengthened me with His Word ahead of time and through my husband afterwards so that I wouldn't be completely swept away.  Like He did with David, He held all the little shattered pieces of me together until I could once again make out the light.  His Word is life and light, and because of that Word, I know He will carry us through on both the good days and bad.  I have not been forgotten.