Mountains around the corner

[Reposted from February 2009]

As the mountains surround Jerusalem, so the LORD surrounds his people, from this time forth and forevermore.
Psalm 125:2

I was camping out in the hotel room, resting from a week of doctors’ appointments and good news/bad news scenarios. My husband had suggested I walk outside when it warmed up so I could see the view of the Rocky Mountains from the other side of the hotel.

But I had already seen the mountains on another trip. Yes, I remember them as looking quite impressive, but frankly, I was tired of mountains.

My mountains of late had only been obstacles to climb. Or long detours to skirt around. Or roadblocks to prevent me from fulfilling my plans.

Yet, I wanted to appease my husband. So I stepped outside and walked around the corner. Then stopped dead in my tracks.

The mountains! They were magnificent.

The view was like none I had remembered seeing before. Their size and color and quantity were astounding.

And I repented.

Why had I been so reluctant to look face-on at the mountains? Too often I view the challenges of pain as mountains in my way, instead of majestic opportunities for God to flex His power.

God knows where the best views are. Sometimes they’re just around the corner, if I’ll step out and look up.

And yes, the mountains can be intimidating, but if I can view them from God’s perspective, I will be impressed with His grandeur. He doesn’t want me to be intimidated by the mountains in my path, but rather to open my mouth in awe at His strength.

While chronic pain may be as challenging as mountains at times, it can also give us unique perspectives to see God in light of His protection and adventure and wonder.

May I choose to see them as such more often.

Lord,
   Thank you for never giving up on showing us Your grandeur. Help us adjust our attitudes to reflect Your glory as we gaze at the mountains with less fear of them and more awe of You.

* * *

Are you facing a mountain this week? What keeps it from intimidating you?

ORIGINALLY POSTED FEB 2009 AT
Chronic Illness Pain Devotionals
POSTED HERE FOR THE ARCHIVES

In the pain, is God still good?

Adversity is not a discipline we undertake ourselves, but is imposed on us by God as a means of spiritual growth.

As Hebrews 12:10 says, “God disciplines us for our good, that we may share in his holiness.” The purpose of the discipline of adversity, then, is to make us more holy.
- JERRY BRIDGES, The Discipline of Grace

Is God good?

I don’t want to complain. But sometimes I complain anyway. I can’t help it.

I cave in to the temptation to think God isn’t as good as he could be.

Because if God is so good, why doesn’t he lift the veil of depression off my friend who cries out to him for help? Why doesn’t he give clearer direction to a group of his people who are sincerely trying to please him but don’t know which steps to take next? Why doesn’t he remove the pull of addiction from those who long to be released from it, for his own glory?

For crying out loud, why doesn’t he at least provide minimal food for the starving children in Africa?

And in a more personal matter, why doesn’t he make my back pain go away?

He can. He can do all of the above. Without the tiniest drain on his power. With or without human help.

But he hasn’t.

Purpose in pain

And therein lies the greatest struggle many have with believing in him.

In the last chapter of The Discipline of Grace, Jerry Bridges tackles this topic. How does grace meet adversity?

He starts off by saying the discipline of adversity is itself a sign of grace: “God’s discipline, which comes to us in the form of adversity or hardship, is an indication of His loving care, not a token of His disfavor.”

He’s more bold than I am in claiming God indeed delivers the hardships himself. (I still have questions, even after reading this book three times.) But because he believes God’s hand is in every hardship we encounter, it makes him more accepting that there is purpose.

And maybe that’s the saving factor for me, too. That’s what keeps me from turning away from God in anger. If there is—can be—a REASON for all this (regardless of its source), then I can deal with it and still see God as good.

Because I can take pain much better when I know it has a purpose.

All hardship of whatever kind has a disciplinary purpose for us. There is no such thing as pain without a purpose in the life of a believer.

This does not necessarily mean a particular hardship is related to a specific act or habit of sin in our lives.

It does mean that every expression of discipline has as its intended end conformity to the likeness of Christ.

So the purpose is? To make us more like Christ.

Be like Christ

I want to be like Jesus, accepting that God is loving me by allowing my pain. That I can trust him so much that I don’t complain about it. That he can use my pain as fuel for more faith, not less, in his goodness.

That’s who I want to be. I’m not there yet.

But maybe the grace in pain is what will get me there like nothing else will.

It’s brought me this far already and it’s been worth it for the ways I’ve already seen God and know his love for me.

I don’t choose my adversities (for the most part). What I can choose is how I’ll respond (for the most part; I have to depend on him).

If I want to glorify God in my pain,

• I will show grace to others in their pain the way he’s shown grace to me in mine,
• I will thank him for the grace he’s given me thus far and trust more grace is always on the way, and
• I will think of him as good—very, very good—even when I don’t understand.

Is that enough purpose for pain?
That’s enough. For today.
May his grace be sufficient.

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.
2 Corinthians 12:9

* * *

Maybe that’s not exactly what Bridges is saying at the conclusion of The Discipline of Grace, but maybe he’d agree.

More discussion of chapter 13 at Challie’s

My chapter summaries

More posts on pain

 

Day 31 of . . .

3 ways to suffer with grace

For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake.
Philippians 1:29

God’s gospel-purpose for us

We know that believing is a blessing. And has purpose.

But suffering? Really, Paul?

The apostle Paul was no stranger to suffering. And his Philippian audience knew it. Not only was Paul writing this letter while under house arrest in Rome, but earlier in their very town of Philippi—a wealthy Roman colony—he and Silas had been dragged into the marketplace, stripped, beaten, and locked in stocks (Acts 16:19-24).

So when he writes “you’ve been given the privilege” not only to believe, but to suffer, he knows what he’s talking about.

And he expected them to suffer with grace. For a reason. Us, too?

There is a way to live that shows God’s good news (i.e., gospel) really is good. Stand united; keep the faith; suffer with confidence. Then it will be clear that we’ve been delivered (Philippians 1:28).

But how?

Do we flinch when danger shows up? Do we get scared at the possibilities of all the things that can go wrong in a life—even “little” things like a stomach bug or a car breaking down or an overscheduled week?

Here are three ways to suffer with grace against enemies:

1. Don’t be a loner.

Stick with the team.

Can we live in agreement? Can we be so single-focused on the grace of Jesus that people will look at believers and think, “That’s amazing!”? Yes, we can!

We’re not designed to pull ourselves up by our own bootstraps when troubles come, but rather we’re gifted with other believers with whom we lock arms (Philippians 1:27).

2. Don’t let enemies intimidate you.

Place your confidence in Christ.

We reflect glory to God when we’re not intimidated by our problems (Philippians 1:28). Not because we have all the solutions, but because the Lord has and will continue to give us the gifts of grace we need. He will rescue us. Not from troubles. But through troubles.

God was faithful to Paul in his conflicts. He’ll be faithful to us in ours.

3. Don’t despise suffering.

Consider it a blessing.

This one is hard. But when Paul said that sufferings had “been granted to you,” he used the Greek word charizomai, which literally means “to grant as a favor, gratuitously, in kindness” (Philippians 1:29).

Paul counted it a privilege to suffer for Christ (Philippians 3:8), not a curse to shrink back from. The value of knowing Christ is worth it all. We see that throughout Philippians.

So let’s ask the Lord—no, plead with the Lord—to give us more unity, courage, and gratitude so the world will look at us and say, “Wow, God!”

He’ll give us the grace we need to suffer well.

* * *

Day 21 of . . .

ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED AT Do Not Depart
REVISED HERE FOR THE ARCHIVES

What do you want?

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds,
for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.

And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.
James 1:2-4

Do you know what you want?

What’s your ambition?

I could point toward any major character and say exactly what that person wanted. No character had a vague ambition.

It made me wonder if the reasons our lives seem so muddled is because we keep walking into scenes in which we, along with the people around us, have no clear idea what we want. 
~ Donald Miller, A Million Miles in a Thousand Years

I want purpose. I want peace. I want joy. I want love. I want faith. I want hope.

I want God.

To get from here to there—to what you want—you walk through story. But if the walk is too easy, your story reads slow. You grow tired of reading it even yourself.

But the people who took the bus didn’t experience the city as we experienced the city. The pain made the city more beautiful.

The story made us different characters than we would have been if we had skipped the story and showed up at the ending an easier way.

There’s something about challenge, about pain, that makes your story more meaningful, more interesting, more gratifying. It makes your story worthwhile.

I don’t know why it’s that way—and I don’t like that it’s that way, but I know it is.

Don’t intentionally seek out pain. But if it’s the only thing blocking you from what God wants for you, don’t run away from the pain either.

Trust God to not let it get unbearable (1 Corinthians 10:13).

Do you want what you want or don’t you?

* * *

What it is you want? Is pain involved?

Does it ever change?

I’m watching the tale of two pregnancies.

One is a young first-time mother.

She is very excited. The room decorations are up and the tiny baby girl clothes are washed and hung. She has the name and the love all ready for her daughter’s arrival.

The other is a second-time mother.

She is very anxious. Once her baby is born, he likely will die. Or so the doctors predict. He’s sick. But she also has a name and a love ready for her baby’s arrival. And possible departure.

I relate to both.
Although neither young mom may understand I understand.

I remember when Kali grew sick inside me and then died after birth, unable to breathe our earth-air. I’d be told of older ladies who had lost children too.

But what could they know of my pain? Back in their day, they often didn’t even mention infant death.

Could they understand my pain?

I found out when I talked to them.
The tears in their eyes answered yes. 
Of course they knew.
The love of a parent doesn’t change with generation or time.

Neither does its pain. 

Even though it’s been 17 years since I last saw Kali, the years are irrelevant. I still wonder what she would have looked like at each age, how she would have processed life, what her favorite foods would have been.

How it would have felt to hold her hand.

Some things don’t change.

The age of the parent doesn’t matter.
The age of the child doesn’t matter.
Love matters.

God is love.
God matters.

The Father holds my daughter’s hand.
He holds mine.
He holds the hands of both young mothers that I’m watching.

And their tiny children’s hands.
Here or there.

The love is ready.
The love is alive.
That will never change.

* * *
If you’d like, please join me in praying for both young mothers and families as due dates approach for their sweet babies.

“Perseverance” – Book review

“It’s cancer.” The words no one wants to hear.

And certainly not a child or teenager. Or the parent of one. Or you or me. 

Carolyn Rubenstein has gathered 20 stories from adolescents who have heard those very words. She’s chronicled their stories of pains and victories in Perseverance: True Voices of Cancer Survivors so that we also can learn from their journeys.

The stories are assorted: boys, girls, shy, outgoing, varying degrees and types of treatments, etc.

Yet the amazing thread that I saw among all the stories was this: While cancer may have been one of the worst things that ever happened to them, it was also one of the best things.

Because it taught them about living. And about dying. And about how to make the most of the time in between.

• They learned to never underestimate the power of a support system. Most brag heavily about their parents and siblings.
• They learned it’s okay to change direction midstream. Many changed college majors or took a totally different career path than originally planned.
• They learned to give back. Rubenstein relays story after story about how these young people went forward in their communities and the world in educating others not only about cancer but about loving and helping other people.

However, the lessons came with a heavy price. Isolation. Financial strain. Fears about recurrence. Relationship adjustments. “Childhood cancer doesn’t end when treatment ends; it continues to have an effect throughout children’s lives, both positive and negative.” Their lives are never the same again, and different in many ways than those of their peers.

But as they share their experiences, we can profit if we pay attention. The gifts these young people give back to the world are invaluable to help us keep a proper perspective on our own lives.

Rubenstein does an excellent job compiling stories and pictures, using her own words and the words of each survivor. She includes a chapter on “The Generosity of Others,” detailing foundations and organizations that are making a difference. She also lists helpful resources for helping kids with cancer and a medical glossary.  

At the end of the book, Rubenstein lists and expounds on ten rules for living that she learned from these cancer survivors:

1. Accentuate the positive
2. Stay healthy
3. Educate yourself
4. Surround yourself with a support system
5. Don’t be afraid to ask for help
6. Laugh—it really is the best medicine
7. Have faith
8. Celebrate life
9. Never give up
10. Pay it forward

Her closing thoughts include these words,

Why wait for disaster to strike or someone else to do something nice for you?

We have all been given special gifts in our lives we can use to help other people, make our lives meaningful . . .to do great and wondrous things. It only takes a few minutes each day to give a gift of your heart and leave a legacy of hope and kindness behind you.

Those are words we need to hear. And with the Lord’s help, words we can put into action.

I don’t have to understand

"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts." (Isaiah 55:8,9 NIV)

My husband met Felix, a homeless man, on the streets of Memphis in March. The man carried a suitcase and a smile.

My husband and his friends asked him, "What's in your suitcase, Felix?"

He replied, "My music." Then Felix sang. He danced. They clapped. A simple moment that came out of nowhere, and seemed to go no further.

Why the chance meeting? What was its purpose? Only God knows.

There are many things that I do not understand. Big things—like the perfect number of light years the sun is from the earth, or how God inserts the breath of life into every human being.

I don't even understand many small things—like why I love ketchup, but don't like tomatoes. Or why I'm enthralled listening to an orchestra, but am too clueless to play their instruments.

But how beautiful it is, that I do not have to understand the instruments in order to appreciate the music! I don't have to understand what makes the sky blue. I marvel at the sky anyway.

Whether or not I understand how baby teeth grow in and wisdom teeth are taken out, I can still appreciate God's perfect design in it all.

So also I don't have to understand how my body can have good days and bad days, yet the Lord's mercy is sustaining me in both. I don't have to understand why he chooses to heal one person and not another. I trust He knows what He's doing. And His way is best.

I can praise my Maker for things I don't understand because I know He has a glorious plan beyond my imagination.

The plan is rarely clear to me. But that's okay. I don't have to know the full plan in order to praise the Plan-Maker. I'm safe in His hands. Because I know the One who does know, I'm okay with that.

Father, I thank you for making a plan for each of us, as we are, in sickness and in health. We praise You that You know far more than we do. Let us find rest in You and Your knowledge, and not our own.

Originally written for and
published by Rest Ministries
May 16, 2009

Value the small things

"I tell you the truth," he said, "this poor widow has put in more than all the others. All these people gave their gifts out of their wealth; but she out of her poverty put in all she had to live on." (Luke 21:3,4 NIV)

We often applaud those who do “big” things for the Lord. Those who set up soup kitchens for the poor. Those who sing like an angel and draw us into worship. Those who work in mission fields and change lives.

I want to do big things, too. But I find that, day after day, my things are usually small instead. Answer some e-mails. Clean the kitchen. Have my quiet time. 

What I need on those days is perspective. To understand. Small things and big things are all the same in God’s sight, if they’re done for His purposes.

God doesn’t love Mr. Well-Known Preacher more than me, just because one of us has a larger audience. He wants us both to do what He calls us to do. In this day. At this time. For these people.

So on those days when I only have conversations with my daughters and cook supper for just my family, I have been successful, if that is what God wants from me that day. And again tomorrow, if He so pleases.

Then if He later calls me to Africa to save the orphans, well, I could only do it one small step at a time anyway. In reality, aren’t big things simply a series of small things strung together?

Be satisfied with small victories. God is. He would rather have the widow’s mite given in love, than a huge donation from pride.

Even Mother Teresa, a renowned giant of big things, said:
“Few of us can do great things, but all of us can do small things with great love.”

Let God determine what is big or small. Just do what is before you this day. To the best of your ability. With purpose. In love.

In the end, those are very big things indeed.

Father, Thank you for ordering our days. Whether large or small in our eyes, let us live them with gratitude and for Your glory.

[Originally published July 13 as a daily e-devotional
from Rest Ministries ,www.restministries.org,
serving people who live with chronic illness or pain]

Book review: “Holy Sweat” by Tim Hansel

Tim Hansel’s message in Holy Sweat is timeless, yet personal:

How and why can you live out your God-given purpose?

He blends the spiritual (holy) and the earthly (sweat) to talk about living out incredible truths in practical ways, not just living FOR Christ, but also living IN Christ.

Tim notes that the Old Testament is crammed with real stories, examples of weak and nervous people, like us, who still reveal God in amazing ways. Take the burning bush: it wasn’t the bush that sustained the flame. It is GOD IN THE BUSH. Any old bush would do.

Likewise, we’re to see how powerful GOD is in using anybody, even a bush, even us, to carry out HIS plan, and trust his skill and his guidance to make it happen through us. Don’t live too cautious to take risks; live in trust.

Christianity is more than conforming to certain patterns of behavior; it is knowing God in a real way. God clearly states it over and over in scripture. Tim points out that we’re to delight in that relationship and relish the opportunities it brings. 

Nobody else ever has or ever will have the same relationship with Jesus Christ that you will. Yours is absolutely, positively unique. No wonder everybody expresses it differently. Tim encourages us to embrace the differences and venture out in the unknown.

Commit to a Person. Choose joy. Celebrate freedom.

As is his style, Tim includes many enlightening quotes from others in this book, and uses clear examples from his own life to make his points. His personal struggles are made transparent, as is the joy he finds in Christ.

Some of Tim’s thoughts:

* We don’t get a free detour around problems when we become a Christian; we get a guided tour through them.

* Self-pity will not allow us to keep any joy that isn’t tied to something bigger. Choosing joy for others, though, can give us a better, stronger reason not to give in.

* We must remember that as we serve others, we are essentially, emphatically serving God first and foremost. Above all, above everything—your primary responsibility is your relationship with Christ. Then next, as you  become so connected to and empowered by God through Jesus Christ, you give naturally out of your overflow.

For decades, Tim has given to others out of his overflow, despite living with chronic pain. He will continue to serve for decades more, through words he leaves behind and through the lives he has touched.

Continue to pray for this faithful soldier of Christ and for his family as Tim struggles near the end of a long journey of physical pain and deteriorating health. 

Thanks, Sandy, for letting me borrow another of Tim’s books off your shelf. I knew it was going to be good when I saw all the pink highlighting throughout the book, the numerous asterisks and bracketed sections, and the prolific underlining. Now that I’ve finished it, I can understand why it got the official Sandy “Great Book!” stamp of approval on the flyleaf.   

 

More from Tim Hansel

Blog Carnival # 2 – Accepting loss

Issue # 2 is here. Christians with Chronic Illness Blog Carnival is a place to find hope. This month focuses on loss—things you miss, replacements you’ve added, changes you’ve made.

Writers from 15 different blogs share their encouragement for you. My contribution is The Empty Spaces, accepting the gaps of emptiness that we need from time to time to avoid living too crowded.

* * *

The salvation of the righteous is from the LORD; he is their stronghold in the time of trouble.
~ David
Psalm 37:39

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your hearts be troubled, neither let them be afraid.
~ Jesus Christ
John 14:27

Book review: not yet…

I keep delaying writing a book review for Through the Wilderness of Loneliness. Not because of the book. Because of the author, Tim Hansel.

PART 1
After my sister introduced me to Tim’s writings last January, I knew I would read more. Because in You Gotta Keep Dancin’, Tim challenged me to seek joy within pain. I closed my review of that book on January 26 with these words:

Where is Tim now? I googled him, but the last entry I could find was 2 years old, and indicated that Tim was in dangerously fragile health from years of living in a pain-racked body.

Tim, wherever you are now, I pray that you are flourishing in your healing.

PART 2
Weeks passed. Through Rest Ministries I e-met Lynn (you may have too, through her insightful comments here). She visited this blog and noticed my comment to Tim.

Lynn quickly told me that she knew where Tim was! She and his family have been close friends for years! We delighted in the connection God had made for us.

Through Lynn, I’ve learned precious things about Tim and his wife Anastasia, and how they have ministered the love of Christ to so many people, despite his health problems.

PART 3
Last week, Lynn received a note from Anastasia that Tim is now in full-time hospice care at his home. It saddens me to hear that a writer and brother I was just beginning to discover may have already written his last book.

But not his last chapter. His most exciting one yet is still ahead and I am anticipatory for him. Wouldn’t it be lovely if he could continue to pass his writings on to us once he’s on the other side? What joy-filled words he could share!

So, as you see, I still have not written the review of Through the Wilderness of Loneliness. Maybe tomorrow... For now, my thoughts are directly on its author. My prayers go out to Tim and his family. Will you pray for him, too?

From Through the Wilderness of Loneliness:

I thought of Jesus’ words, “Come to me...and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). It is interesting to note that He didn’t say, “Do this and it will give you rest” or “Don’t do this, and that will give you rest.” He said, “Come to me...and I will give you rest.” It is an intimate relationship He offers.

Tim, you’ve been a blessing on earth. We pray for a peaceful transition for you, when God’s timing is right, to your new dancin’ in heaven, along with your much-deserved rest.

More from Tim Hansel

The empty spaces

It’s a mystery.

How did my baby girl who held one pacifier between her teeth and another one in her hand, who woke up cheerily every morning composing songs in her crib, who loved books more than watching Bert and Ernie (and she loved Bert and Ernie)—how did that baby take empty boxes, pack 18 years of living into them, and drive away to independence?

So it happens. As it should. Our lives are full one minute, then emptied out the next. Roles change. People flow in, flow out.

But the moments in between—between the role of full-time mother to a sideline cheerleader, between the old and the new—those moments of emptiness are uncomfortable. We’re tempted to either ignore them or else fight against them. Sometimes Emptiness cooperates, winking at us, saying, “Okay...I’ll lay low, this time.”

Eventually, though, it wants more. Empty spaces crave our attention. They want us to sit down, get acquainted, and learn lessons. Such as: Humility. Perseverance. Risk-taking.

God whispers his truths to us in these quiet moments.

When my daughter moved, the empty space that opened up was sad, but it also held gifts. It threw out connecting lifelines with other college mothers. It unwrapped memories to laugh at. It invited wonder over the Miss Independent we had produced.

It taught me that flipping roles, while painful, was as important for me as it was for my daughter.

Other life changes have opened up empty spaces as well. Aches of the body have opened up sleepless nights. Could I have guessed how much I would miss sleep? A seemingly effortless nighttime activity. I took it for granted—until it deserted me.

The empty space it created has been slow to refill. But as surely as God gives us alertness, he also gives us rest. And in the empty space of desolate nights, I’ve learned to seek his rest in deeper ways.

As I negotiate new ways to deal with the loss, he fills up the hole with himself. Sometimes, it feels like enough. Other times, it doesn’t—but only because of my immature understanding of his fullness. I’m still growing to accommodate him.

But this much I do understand:
There is a gracious peace from accepting the in-between times of emptiness.

Without the empty spaces forced upon us from time to time, we would live too crowded. And we’d lose the gaps where new things settle in.

And I’d have missed all the exciting visits to Auburn to admire my almost-grown up baby girl.

Does God have the right to?

Prodigal Jon at Stuff Christians Like will make you laugh. I often laugh out loud (to be distinguished from simply typing “lol”) when I read his posts.

His post this past Wednesday was: “Arguing about why bad things happen to good people” and it started out humorous enough. But it got deep quickly.

...The question is not "Does He love us?" My life circumstances do not determine that. He is love. Regardless of what happens to me in this life, that is who He is and who He will always be.

He then went through several more “The question is not…” questions. Such as, “Do we have to fake smile through pain?” Answer: no.
“If God is supposed to work all things out for the good, why is this situation so painful?” Answer: Our understanding of “good” doesn’t always match God’s.
“Can I trust a God that allows bad things to happen to good people?” Answer: Our God is much bigger than our ability to understand what He’s doing. We confuse “good” and “bad” too often to be an authority.

So what question does Jon say we should ask? This one:

Does God have the right to crack the vessel if breaking it is the fastest way to share what He poured into us?

What shall we answer?

Getting better

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.” (Psalm 23:4 NIV)

[full article here]...So when others would ask me if I were getting “better,” I never knew how to answer. Did they really mean, “Are you less sad?”   ...Because the Perfect Guide leads us, we are getting “better.” Because the Lord is our shepherd, we have no lack--whether in times of plenty or in times of want, in times of pain or in times of no pain.

...Dear Lord, even in our pain, sometimes because of our pain, let us open our arms wide enough to accept Your presence with us. We are grateful we never walk this path alone.                                                        [continued]

Blog Carnival

The LORD feeds us in many ways.

Here is one:
If you have a friend with any type of chronic illness or pain, point them to Rest Ministries and the many sites associated with it. Its founder Lisa Copen works tirelessly to provide resources for Christian encouragement through the programs of RM. The “daily servings of encouragement” sent through the daily devotionals always start my day off brighter. And listening to the Hope Endures weekly radio show leaves me with a deeper respect for the experiences of others.

Today Lisa Copen unveils a Blog Carnival, connecting readers with an array of posts (like “Cracker Jack”) from personal blogs written by other believers. A wide variety of styles, people, and illnesses—but one Lord. We praise him together.

Psalm 145:16 You open your hand; you satisfy the desire of every living thing.

The Cracker Jack of Pain—A Surprise with Every Body

If “Life is like a box of chocolates—you never know what you’re gonna get,” chronic pain is like Cracker Jack—“There’s a surprise with every body.”

Be honest—who really bought Cracker Jack to eat the peanuts and caramel corn? It was always about the surprise packed inside the box. Just so, God has planted a surprise for each of us in each day—and the more we expect to see His surprises, the more we’ll find.

Just like Easter egg hunts. There's always the child who only stands around, passively holding her empty basket, whining that she sees no eggs. So she never does. But then there’s the kid who runs from bush to tree, looks sideways and upside down, and returns, beaming, with an overflowing basket of colored eggs.

I want to be that kid.

Living in a pain-filled body might slow us down in the hunt, but we can still rip open the box with gusto, anticipating the prize inside. Many new things await us if we live with open eyes (Proverbs 20:12-13)

With my pain, I’ve already gotten a new vocabulary, new medicine, new TENS unit, new doctors, even a new bed. But those are minor compared to the real surprises that have come with pain.

NEW FRIENDS
Over 23 billion toys have been given away in Cracker Jack boxes. But God makes more than 23 billion criss-crossing connections between friends all over the world, ready to share His message of hope through illnesses.

Through Rest Ministries, I’ve made friends with Lynn—and discovered our common love of books and authors. I’ve received e-mails from Connie and Mrs. Lucy and Sherry, sharing their own stories and offering encouragement for mine. Last week I reconnected with Susan, who invited me to a local HopeKeepers meeting.

God knows who we need to help us in our journey, and who needs us. Let's watch for each other. We’ll share more than pain—we’ll also share joys, belief, struggles, and hope.

NEW FAITH

Take me out to the ball game,
Take me out with the crowd.
Buy me some peanuts and cracker jack,
I don't care if I never get back.

Cracker Jack had been around about 15 years when Norworth and Von Tilzer wrote their famous “Take Me Out to the Ball Game” song in 1908, referencing cracker jack in the lyrics. The song implies that the ball park has everything you need for a home away from home, win or lose.

How at home are we with suffering? It’s often coupled with a loss of mobility or a reduction in activities or an increase in doctor appointments. Who wants to live there?

Yet God still chooses to make my body His temple, His dwelling place, whether I feel broken or not (1 Corinthians 6:19-20). If it’s good enough to be home for Him, it’s good enough to be home for me. He can use even the most ragged bodies as a home away from home until they’re made anew in the heavenly home.

In the beauty of God’s creativity and sovereignty, He somehow, some way, turns all things around for our good, whether we understand it or not (Romans 8:28).

Finding satisfaction in this body is not always easy. But I’m learning that God is faithful in His promises, that He will always be enough. He will provide more faith-building surprises than I can imagine, if I will keep seeking Him (Proverbs 8:17; Ephesians 3:20).

NEW ME
Sailor Jack and his dog Bingo have been living on the Cracker Jack box for almost a hundred years. Still smiling, still saluting, still teasing us to “Guess what’s inside?” They haven’t changed.

But I have.

I’m not the same person now that I was ten years ago. Is it the pain that changed me? Indirectly, yes. At times it’s made me cry and complain and feel discouraged. At times it has frightened me, thinking about the “what if’s” around the corner.

But in bigger times, it’s made me see that life is more than my body, and my body is more than my pain. The “old me” isn’t always happy with this body—I’d rather have something more comfortable and in proper working order, but the “new me” is learning to be content even here (2 Corinthians 4:16-18).

So I’ll keep expecting the unexpected ways that God sends us pleasures and delights, making our journeys a little easier, our joys a little fuller, and our peace a little deeper.

And even if we don’t always enjoy the popcorn and peanuts inside the box, let’s keep digging through them until we reach the package inside, rip it open with enthusiasm, and delight in the prize (Jeremiah 29:11-13).

More on PAIN

Is "Giving Up" the same thing as "Quitting"?

Tomorrow, I plan to tell the doctor that I’m giving up.

I appreciate his MRI’s and X-rays, his physical therapists and chiropractors. But enough is enough when he's not alleviating any pain. Right?

I question myself over and over before I give up something... Is it too soon? What if I’ll need it later? Can I ever get it back? Will I be considered a quitter?

Is “giving up” the same as “quitting”?

Is it being a quitter when we lay aside practices that no longer work, or schedules that no longer serve a purpose, or even fun activities that have long since lost their joy?

Didn’t Jesus give things up? Did that make him a quitter?

Jesus certainly gave up pieces of his glory when he squeezed his deity into a cramped, tiny mold of a human body. He gave up heaven to live on earth. He even gave up a spotless relationship with his Father when he bloodied his character with our sins. He gave up the innocence of his very life.

But he didn’t quit on the plan—he worked it flawlessly. He didn’t quit loving us—we stayed on his mind constantly. He didn’t quit obeying God—he glorified him in everything he did. If he had given up on those things, he would have been a quitter.

And he wouldn’t have gained resurrection, or regained his original glory.

So “giving up” does not equal “quitting”. Some things we need to give up. If it no longer bears fruit, let it go. Let God free our hands of useless things to be refilled with better things.

What will I gain by giving up my doctor?

Certainly more time and more money, less stress and less prodding. I’ll gain release from a pursuit that’s proven fruitless. And I’ll gain freedom to invest energy instead into accepting that all is well, now, in pleasure and in pain. True gifts indeed—only to be received by open and empty hands.

Such gifts do not arrive from a passive pattern of quitting, but from an active and voluntary giving up....

I give up.

~ Philippians 2

5 Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus,
6 who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped,
7 but made himself nothing, taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men.
8 And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross.
9 Therefore God has highly exalted him and bestowed on him the name that is above every name,
10 so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow, in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
11 and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.

You Gotta Keep Dancin'

We all have sore spots; places where touched, we flinch. Some are of the body; some of the soul; some of the spirit. This book speaks to them all.

In his prime, Tim Hansel was a buff ice climber, skilled and courageous. But with one slip of his foot on snow and ice in the Sierras, he spilled over the edge into a fall that changed his life forever.

He describes his life from that time forward in all its pains and joys in You Gotta Keep Dancin’: In the Midst of Life’s Hurts,You Can Choose Joy!, first published in 1985. He continued to write more books and ministered in various ways to innumerable people.

Tim challenges me to rethink my own attitudes about problems and pain. I'll let his words speak for themselves...

It has been said that there is no such thing as a problem that doesn’t have a gift in it. I’m going to have to begin to find some of those gifts and open them.

The disillusionment with our own abilities is, perhaps, one of the most important things that can ever happen to us. But the process can be terrifying.

But through this profound and simple passage from Nehemiah, God reminded me again and again that I cannot choose to be strong, but I can choose to be joyful. And when I am willing to do that, strength will follow.

Limitations are not necessarily negative. In fact, I’m beginning to believe that they can give life definition, clarity, and freedom. We are called to a freedom of and in limitations—not from. ...Unrestricted water is a swamp—because it lacks restriction, it also lacks depth.

I have prayed hundreds, if not thousands, of times for the Lord to heal me—and he finally healed me of the need to be healed. I had discovered a peace inside the pain. I finally came to the realization that if the Lord could use this body better the way it is, then that’s the way it should be.

Where is Tim now? I googled him, but the last entry I could find was 2 years old, and indicated that Tim was in dangerously fragile health from years of living in a pain-racked body.

Tim, wherever you are now, I pray that you are flourishing in your healing.
Sandy, thanks for loaning me the book.
Lord, let me seek and find my highest and deepest joy in you, and be strong for your glory because of it.

...And do not be grieved, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.

~ Nehemiah 8:10

More from Tim Hansel

Freedom, even in THIS body

       27 And the satraps, the prefects, the governors, and the king's counselors gathered together and saw that the fire had not had any power over the bodies of those men. The hair of their heads was not singed, their cloaks were not harmed, and no smell of fire had come upon them.
       28 Nebuchadnezzar answered and said, "Blessed be the God of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego, who has sent his angel and delivered his servants, who trusted in him, and set aside the king's command, and yielded up their bodies rather than serve and worship any god except their own God.
~ Daniel 3

---

“Don’t let this issue be your LAST!”
It will be.

Despite the dour warning screaming from my mailbox today, I won’t renew. “Highlights” has been been a welcome guest in our house each month for the past 15 years. But this year, my youngest has decided it’s not worth renewing. She’s outgrown it.

Perhaps it’s silly to be sad at not renewing a child’s magazine, but it’s a larger issue that speaks to me. It’s the incessant tick-tocking reminder that because I’m aging, I'll probably never return to a less pain-filled body. This is the year to make peace with pain, to accept life as is and worship God as fully as I can, even in THIS body.

The wording in Daniel 3 spoke to me afresh this afternoon. “The fire had not had any power over the bodies of those men” as Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego “yielded up their bodies” rather than deny their God.

In fits and starts, I’m learning to lay down nagging thoughts of “So this is how I’m going to feel the rest of my life?” and accept that, yes, even with pain or without it, THIS is the body I'm asked to yield up in worship to my God.

Freedom is the reward of acceptance—freedom from fear while passing through the waters, because I know I’m not alone; and through the rivers, because I know I won’t be overwhelmed. I know the fire will not burn me and the flame will not consume me (Isaiah 43:2-4).

Why? Because of who my God is. And He is enough. Even in THIS body.

       11:For the moment all discipline seems painful rather than pleasant, but later it yields the peaceful fruit of righteousness to those who have been trained by it.
       12: Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees,
       13: and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed.
~ Hebrews 12

Temporary pains

At last dawn came and I arose, unrested and full of despair. 

I stared in a mirror, checking for signs of the disease. I mustn't panic. 

First, I must map out the affected area of insensitivity to get some sense of how far the disease had progressed. I sat down, took a deep breath, jabbed the point of the sewing needle into my heel--and yelped.

Never have I felt a sensation as delicious as that live, electric jolt of pain. I laughed aloud at my foolishness. I had only a temporary numbness caused by sitting hunched on the train.

Temporary! There was no leprosy...I breathed a prayer, Thank God for pain!

~ PAIN: THE GIFT NOBODY WANTS

Dr. Paul Brand recounts his momentary scare of contracting leprosy. His feeling of pain meant that he was more alive than dead. As I continue with numbness in just one finger, how often have I said that I'd rather have pain than deadness? (And how quickly would I recant if I did have pain and it were intense?)

Perhaps James knew what he was talking about after all when he said we should be joyful when we have trials. I'm not there yet, but I do get occasional insights into appreciating trials, or rather the outcomes that God can produce through them.

Lord, help us be thankful in even the painful situations you allow into our lives. And to remember: they're all temporary.