Love, traveling in the greatness of His strength,
Found me alone,
Footsore and tired by the journey’s length,
Though I had known,
All the long way many a kindly air,
And flowers had blossomed for me everywhere.
And yet Love found me fearful, and He stayed;
Love stayed by me.
“Let not your heart be troubled or dismayed,
My child,” said He.
Slipped from me then all troubles, all alarms;
For Love had gathered me into His arms.
Amy Carmichael – Gold by Moonlight.
“LORD, this cross is too heavy”, I murmered, while sitting numbly at my desk, staring at the wall in my dark bedroom. It was a Sunday night and inside I was feeling more broken and wounded than ever before. The weight of the painful burden I’ve been learning to live with seemed to be crushing out the little bit of joy I had managed to grasp that day.
Just a little bit of light, Lord, I thought to myself.
Oh, how our complaints must grieve His heart. We’re too often like Peter who so eagerly stepped out on the water in faith, only to look down and freak out. It happens to me all the time!
“Hope and quietly wait”, were the words my Heavenly Father whispered into my soul that night. I quickly went to read that passage in Lamentations and was encouraged. And all week long I’ve been hearing the words of this song in my heart.
Be still, my soul, the Lord is on thy side
Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain
Leave to thy God to order and provide
In every change He faithful willremain
Be still, my soul, they best, they heavenly friend
Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end
Be still, my soul, thy God doth undertake
To guide the future as He has the past
Thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake
All now mysterious shall be bright at last
Be still, my soul, the waves and winds still know
His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below
In you I rest, in You I found my hope
In you I trust, You never let me go
I place my life within your hands alone
Be still, my soul
Be still, my soul, the hour is hastening on
When we shall be forever with the Lord
When disappointed grief and fear are gone
Sorrow forgot, loves purest joys restored
Be still, my soul, when change and tears are past
All safe and blessed we shall meet at last
In you I rest, in You I found my hope
In you I trust, You never let me go
I place my life within your hands alone
Be still, my soul
In you I rest, in You I found my hope
In you I trust, You never let me go
I place my life within your hands alone
Be still, my soul.
Yes, just be still.
When your cross seems too heavy, bear it patiently.
When the hurt and grief seem too much, bring it to Jesus.
When all hell is breaking loose inside, remember our Saviour’s promise: “I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”
“The Lord is my portion, saith my soul; therefore will I hope in Him. The Lord is good unto them that wait for Him, to the soul that seeketh Him. It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord.”
Lamentations 3:24-26
“Love is not proud
Love does not boast
Love after all
Matters the most
Love does not run
Love does not hide
Love does not keep locked inside
Love is the river that flows through
Love never fails you
Love will sustain
Love will provide
Love will not cease
At the end of time
Love will protect
Love always hopes
Love still believes
When you don’t
Love is the arms that are holding you
Love never fails you
Love is right here
Love is alive
Love is the way
The truth the life
Love never fails you”
Written by Chad Robert Cates
These words come from one of my favorite songs sung by Brandon Heath called “Love never Fails.” It’s a great song about the love of God from 1 Corinthians 13. Another song directly from the love chapter that I learned recently is called “Though I Speak” by Matt and Josie Minikus. The second verse is my favorite.
“Love is patient knows no ending. Never gloats when others sin. Love is never glad to see injustice always wants the truth to win. There’s no end to loves endurance there’s no test it cannot face. Lord you spent your life in serving others. What this means I would be taught.”
This song points out that the deep power of God’s true, agape love is not something we come up with on our own. It’s not in our sinful, human nature to love like that. It must be taught by the spirit of Christ and learned by us.
In my previous post on love I talked about sacrifice, repentance and forgiveness. This time I’d like to take verse 7 of 1 Corinthians 13 and expound on it a bit.
“Beareth all things, believeth all
things, hopeth all things,
endureth all things.”
Bears all things
Verse 4 of that chapter tells us that love is not easily provoked. In other words, it would have to take a lot to send it over the edge. In fact, if it truly does bear everything, it won’t break or crack at all. Love is steady, calm and collected. Remember that next time you’re about to come unglued at someone who has made you mad. Love does NOT reply in biting, words that sting and hurt. True love will bear all things patiently and will take wrong without having to defend a position or point because it does not care for its own skin.
Believes all things
Everyone is innocent unless proven to be guilty. In other words, always believe the best about anyone and everyone. No prejudging or negative, misconceived predictions or assumumptions. Unless you KNOW for sure that the negative is true. And even then as Christians and children of our loving God, we are supposed to love our enemies and those who have done wrong and don’t “deserve” our love. Because we didn’t deserve the love of God either. We all were once dirty sinners now saved and made clean by the blood of Jesus Christ. So be patient with those that are hard to deal with, and quick to believe in the positive rather than the negative.
Hopes all things
I have written whole posts on hope before. It’s one of my favorite topics, because hope is what keeps us going when all hell is breaking loose. Even in the most fiery trial hope is always there. God’s love creates hope, because it’s settled and grounded in more than tangible evidence. Love hopes at all times, for it is secure in the knowledge that God is in control and He will prevail no matter what. God’s love will always win. We can place our hope in that. Hebrews 6:18 & 19 have been on my mind recently, for they speak of the hope found only in the refuge of our Heavenly Father.
we might have a strong consolation, who have fled for refuge to lay hold upon the hope set before us:Which hope we have as an anchor of the soul, both sure and stedfast
Endures all things
“Love knows no limits to its endurance, no end to its trust, no fading of its hope; it can outlast anything. It is, in fact, the one thing that stands when all else has fallen.”
For the enduring one I had to include this excerpt from a quote on love by Elisabeth Elliot. Love being enduring is often a tough concept to grasp. You may be saying, “wait a minute! I experienced pain and heartache and a broken relationship. Love didn’t last forever for me.” I feel your pain, and you’re right – love doesn’t always endure. At least, not the love of our human nature. What we need to realize is the agape love of God is THE ONLY love that will never end. The warm emotions and butterflies we experience in a romantic relationship, however, simply do not last. While they may seem so strong and wonderful at the time, they are superficial. These feelings are special and not without their place in a relationship, but they don’t sustain or protect or build. They do not last; will not withstand the cold, battering winds of hardship and struggle. They will not pass through the testing and proving of true love. It’s sad how many couples, especially those that have already been married, give up and walk away from eachother because it’s too hard or too much work to stay together. There are a whole plethora of reasons for divorce, but the main one we hear, is that they just don’t feel ” in love” anymore. Their relationship became based on feelings and emotions that faded away with neglect. It could not endure because the right love wasn’t there to make it last.
On this day that the world is celebrating the mushy gushy side of love, we need to understand what love really means. The work, the pain and sweat of it; the nitty, gritty get down-to-work side of love that calls for men and women to set aside their wants, needs and their own thinking to lay down their life for another. It’s service, and caring, and doing for others what we would like done for us.
Because love is action.
And it never gives up and never fails. Even when the sunshine is gone and the skies have turned gray.
I encourage you to rest in God’s love today, knowing that His love will last forever even when others have failed you. Walk forward in faith, trusting Him to carry you through in His mercy and grace.
“For great is his love toward us, and the faithfulness of the LORD endures forever. Praise the LORD.” Psalm 117:2
This is another of my airport adventures… It seems like I have a habit of finding myself in predicaments—or perhaps just unique circumstances—whenever I fly. These are the times that have made my life far from boring, and it is fun to think about this experience again as I tell the story to you!
One year ago I was sitting on my suitcase in the Miami Airport at an unusual morning hour. It was probably two o’clock am. The lines to the ticket counter were staggering. I read the nylon walkway ribbons on either side of me and had to laugh. “Always an adventure no matter the wait” read one. Another taunted, “You’re practically basically almost there.” That one prompted an eye roll. Yeah right. At that point in time we had no idea where we were going or when.
My friend Lavina and I had been on a flight from Guatemala returning to the US and had landed in Florida several hours earlier. Once we had been through customs and transferred our luggage to the Minneapolis flight, we settled into some chairs to wait for take off time. Both of us had been through over 24 hours of travel already and were more than ready to get home to Wisconsin.
About a half hour before our flight was to begin boarding, one of the flight attendants announced over the loud speakers that the plane was experiencing computer problems and they would keep us posted on when we could board. The minutes turned into an hour and still no permission was given. After nearly two hours the airport personnel declared the plane unfit to fly and we were all told to recollect luggage from downstairs and head for the Spirit Airlines ticket counter. There they would help everyone to schedule new flights.
The mass of people that had been anxiously waiting at the gate abruptly moved away and Lavina and I followed, both unsure of what to do. I had already taken a sleeping pill to ensure a good night’s rest on our flight home, and was coming down with a cold that I feared would turn into pneumonia like it had the year before. I was groggy and drained physically and emotionally. All I had wanted was to go home! Now I was stuck in Florida. But at least I had Lavina with me and we could be stuck together.
Once we got up to the ticket counters the lines of people snaking around multiple times told me we were going to be in this for the long haul. Apparently more than one flight had been cancelled that night. I sent Lavina to fetch our suitcases and I found a place to wait in line. Sitting down and relaxing was perfectly acceptable because the line was moving slower than a snail pace. I also found some coffee to hopefully combat the sleeping pill and get me through as many hours as this adventure was going to require.
Looking back, those three plus hours of waiting in line weren’t so bad. There were plenty of people to watch, and talk to. Lavina and I ended up in some very lively conversations, and even met some ladies who knew of the town where we were from and knew someone I did! We also sang some songs in Spanish and enjoyed practicing our language skills with any Hispanic that would listen to us. And the free airport wifi was a great time occupier.
When we finally made it to the counter area I was beginning to droop. The coffee had livened me for a time, but lack of sleep was catching up. It was now about three am and the airline employees were ornery from spending the last several hours dealing with angry and frustrated passengers. Lavina and I were literally the last people who hadn’t been helped yet, and by our discussion with others who had gone through ahead, the prospects of getting a free replacement flight were looking very bleak. “Let’s pray, said Lavina. We both bowed our heads right there and asked God to help us. I had barely said “amen” when a friendly looking African American gal approached Lavina and I. We were leaning on our luggage and probably wearing the best pathetic puppy dog faces we could manage. “Have you girls been helped yet?” She questioned. When we both shook our heads she called us over to her computer and ran our tickets and passports through. I held my breath as she quietly did her work. “I am so sorry about this,” she apologized. “Thank you for waiting so long.” “Oh it’s alright” I assured her. “Thank you for helping us and working so hard all night to help everyone.” Both Lavina and I were very thankful and tried to encourage her while she gave us our options and we figured out what to do.
“You’re all set” she said after a few moments, and handed us new tickets and a stack of vouchers. My eyes popped as she explained that she had arranged a room for us at one of the most ritziest, expensive hotels in Hollywood Florida, complete with food and taxi vouchers. It was now Saturday, and our new flight would be that night at no cost to us. As Lavina and I thanked her profusely I knew that God’s finger was all over this. We had just been gifted a completely unexpected and free vacation in Florida!
The hotel was really nice. Entirely too fancy for two country girls who didn’t even know how to operate the strange elevator. (The nice young man at the counter helped us out with that dilemna.) The room was huge and so were the beds. As we bounced onto the fluffy white bed coverings Lavina informed me that this was her first time to sleep in a hotel! Somehow we managed to get some sleep that morning. At least, Lavina did. I was too hyper to sleep long and was just itching to go find the beach. After lunchtime we did an exploratory trip across the street to the Atlantic ocean and discovered a big, beautiful beach jam packed with people. We ran back to the hotel for our swim things and returned to play in the water and lay in the sand. Both of us got quite burnt but it was worth it. I had never seen such white sand or brilliant blue green water. I could have floated in that salty warm water all day!
We spent our evening in the gigantic maze of outdoor swimming areas at the hotel, which was surrounded by palm trees, and ate supper in the hotel restaurant using our vouchers. The food tasted amazing since we hadn’t eaten a real meal in over twelve hours. That hotel experience was complete luxury and I was almost kind of sad when we had to catch the taxi back to the airport. But we were finally going home and that was exciting.
I breathed a sigh of relief when we had boarded our flight at 9:55 pm bound for MSP. Lavina’s parents were there to pick us up, and never had the chilly April wind in Minneapolis been so welcomed! It was home.
That adventure was certainly memorable, and I am so glad it happened when Lavina and I were together. I would have been pretty miserable having to go through all of that on my own and she could probably say the same for herself. God knew what we needed and He took care of us above and beyond what we could have ever asked for. What a mighty God we serve!
“Groups two and three you are now invited to board Delta flight 1204 to Minneapolis.” The steward at the counter set down the microphone as the last few people moved into line to show their boarding passes. I shouldered my bag and followed, my heart pounding in excitement. This was only my second time to fly in an airplane and its’ novelty had not yet worn off. Even now, after having been on multiple flights, I still get a thrill.
It was a cold and snowy Friday afternoon in January. My mom and brother had just dropped me off at the tiny Wausau, WI airport. After a quick trip through security I was boarding one of those dinky commuter planes, bound for Minneapolis. From there I would catch a direct flight to Sacramento, CA where my friend Claire was picking me up to spend a week with her and her family in Grass Valley.
The plane really was tiny. I had to hold my bag in front of me and carefully sidle down the aisle way. There are definitely disadvantages to boarding in the last group! Slowly I moved along, trying not to look at the passengers, but rather at the numbers along the luggage bins that indicated seat assignments. I had reserved a window seat, which was my favorite. I could never get tired of the bird’s eye view.
When I neared row 12, my heart sank. A very large yet smiling lady had taken my window seat. Trying to mask any disappointment, I quietly lifted my bag into the overhead bin and slid into the aisle seat next to the older woman. I noticed right away that on her foot and leg was a large medical boot.
“Hi honey” she greeted me with a bubbly smile. “I took the window seat so that you wouldn’t have to try and get over me. I hope you don’t mind.” I smiled back and shrugged it off. “It’s just fine I said. “Don’t feel bad.”
For the next few minutes we chatted casually and introduced ourselves. I learned that her name was Donna and she was flying on all the same flights that I was to Sacramento. Two months earlier she had been visiting her brother north of Wausau when she fell on ice and broke several bones in her foot and leg. Surgery was necessary and then rehab so she had been unable to travel home. Now she was finally flying back to her husband in CA and she was so excited!
While we talked the plane had moved onto the tarmac and was going to be deiced before we could take off. By then it was snowing fairly heavy and I wondered if they would cancel our flight. Then our pilot spoke over the loud speaker and told us that Minneapolis had closed all but one of their runways and that we were not going to be able to land there until much later that night. This news was very distressing for Donna. I was also worried because there wasn’t much time in between flights and if we were delayed too long our flight from MSP to SAC would leave without us.
The time seemed to drag on. The deicing took longer than expected and it was getting late. The pilot informed us that there would be another flight in the morning if some people would rather wait until then. Several passengers left and I half considered it myself. But where would I have gone? My mom was home by then and there was no way I was going to ask them to come back for me. Also, there was now Donna to consider. She was anxious, and almost at the point of tears. Our flight to Sacramento was long gone and there would be no more that night. We had two options – spend the night in the airport once we landed at MSP, or stay in a hotel. I discussed these options with Donna.
“I can’t stay in the airport”, she wailed, “My leg needs to be propped up and I have to put on a different boot. And I cannot be by myself in a hotel either.” As she cried softly beside me my mind was racing. What was I going to do? I had friends in Minneapolis area and I knew that if I asked to spend the night with them they would come get me. But what about Donna? I could not just abandon her like this. And she was unable to come with me because my friends’ house had many stairs and she could barely walk let alone go up a staircase. I had been praying silently, and in that instant I knew what I had to do. I knew what the Lord was asking of me.
I turned to face Donna. “They will give us free hotel vouchers when we get to MSP”, I told her. You go ahead and get one and I will stay with you.”
Her look was incredulous. “You would do that?” She exclaimed, “But you only just met me!”
I nodded and squeezed her hand. “Yes Donna, I will. I was praying just now and this is what God is going to arrange for both of us.”
I did not know it then, but God had the rest of our trip planned out perfectly. Donna and I needed only to follow His directions.
When a person needing a wheel chair or any kind of assistance flies, they are given first priority for everything. It also means that the traveling companion gets these privileges too. For Donna, that companion was now me! The minute we got off the plane and entered the Minneapolis airport we were attended to by staff that pushed Donna’s chair while I carried the luggage. They helped us find the ticket counter where we would get our hotel voucher and new flights for the morning. The lines were massive, but somehow we were pushed through to almost the front. I could not believe it.
Within a half hour we had a voucher for the most expensive hotel available, and two new flight tickets. But there was one minor problem – Donna and I had not been able to get the same flights for CA. The only two had layovers in Salt Lake City, and neither had enough seats open for us to go together. I was not concerned about this, but Donna was pretty upset. I consoled her as best as I could and promised to try to go on standby for her flight, which left first the next day.
Rather than get a taxi, I had asked my friend Brittaney to come and drive us to our hotel. She was a great sport and with the help of Google maps we found our destination. By then it was nearly midnight. While Donna checked in at the front desk I asked for a wheel chair. To my dismay there wasn’t one! Donna was traveling with just a walker, and she was only allowed to put weight on her foot for short distances. We had asked for the closest room but it was still too long of a walk. Frustrated I stepped into the lobby across the hall and scanned the room looking for anything that had wheels. When I saw the big black office chair by the desk in the corner I wanted jump up and down and whoop. I wheeled it out to Donna in the hall and Brittaney and I helped her on to it. In my mind I had imagined the chair rolling smoothly down the carpeted floor. However, reality turned out quite the opposite. The wheels were sticky and constantly binding, but we persisted and got her down to the room without an accident. Brittaney left us then and we began to settle in for the night.
The hotel room was one of the nicest I had seen. Under different circumstances I might have actually enjoyed it. But that night was one of the longest, most sleepless nights I had ever experienced.
In the rehab center Donna had developed the habit of sleeping with the television on. The hotel room was going to be no different. She turned it on right away and settled into the armchair where she told me she wanted to sleep for the night.
I tried very hard to sleep. My body was screaming for rest but my mind could not shut down long enough to allow me to drift off. I was still high on caffeine from the coffee I had gotten in the MSP airport, and I suppose I was still pumping adrenalin from all that had occurred in the last several hours. The flashing TV and its background noise didn’t help either. At one point, when I was sure that Donna was sleeping, I crept over to the remote by her chair and turned the thing off. It was short lived. Donna stirred and turned it back on.
To get as far away from the screen as possible I moved to the floor on the far side of the bed closest to the wall. But then I was right next to the heater so I got extremely hot and sweaty! There just wasn’t anything I could do to help myself.
The restless night was over around 5:30 Saturday morning. Donna and I had to catch the shuttle to the airport at 6 am, so there was no time for dilly-dallying. We grabbed a quick breakfast in the lobby and then we were headed back to MSP.
Once inside the crowds of people and length of the lines to security were dizzying. I wondered how I would ever get Donna through fast enough to catch her early flight. Yet, once again the Lord was watching out for us. We were met at the doors by staff with a wheelchair and were whisked through the special passengers line all the way to the front. I felt awkward to be given such care and privileges. It was Donna that needed the attention, not me. I was just the servant. Yet I smiled to myself because I knew that God’s fingers were all over this.
After security we boarded one of those special airport go carts that I had always wanted to ride! Our driver was hilarious and kept us laughing all the way through the terminal to the gate. As soon as Donna was seated I approached the ticket counter and asked if I could go on standby for the flight. The stewardess gave me a funny look. My heart sank, and I was afraid to hear what she would say next. Turning to the computer screen she chuckled and said, “Oh hon, you won’t need to do that. I have a seat for you on this flight.” She then scanned my ticket and arranged for me to have a seat on the next flight from Salt Lake City to CA as well.
Brimming with excitement I returned to Donna and told her the good news. She was so happy I think she was about to cry. “Do you see how God is looking after us?” I exclaimed joyfully. “He is so good!”
The next two flights went smoothly with Donna and I always boarding first. Again I felt awkward and spoiled but there was nothing I could do but try to enjoy it. Donna certainly was. She was also becoming very excited to see her husband and son in Sacramento.
When we finally landed in California around one o’clock, I was exhausted. I had been functioning on almost no sleep for thirty-six hours, and hadn’t eaten much either. I was running strictly on adrenalin.
We got through the baggage claim pretty quickly, and then went to find Donna’s family. They spotted us first, and I was amazed by how quickly Donna’s little Italian husband could run. He was in her arms sobbing and telling her over and over that he would never let her leave him again. I had to fight tears myself as I witnessed the emotional reunion. Introductions were made, their son Brian snapped a picture and then Donna gave me a tearful goodbye. “I wont forget you, my little angel”, she whispered. “Thank you so much for taking care of me.”
I embraced her then, feeling much emotion and difficulty in saying goodbye. “It was all God”, I whispered back. “Thank Him. He gets all the glory.” They left then and I headed for the front doors where I hoped to find Claire. When she wasn’t there I stood dumbly, unsure of what to do next. Then, to my amazement I heard my name over the loudspeaker. They were telling me to meet my party. But where? Claire was nowhere to be seen. I got on the airport phone and asked them to tell me where I would find my ride. The man who answered advised me to go outside and wait on the curb. I did, and along came Claire in her dad’s Ford pickup. I couldn’t have been more relieved.
”Where were you!” Claire cried as she got out to hug me. “I have been here for almost an hour driving in circles. Did you have the wrong time?”
Turns out I had. The time I had told her was the time we were to be boarding the plane to Sacramento. My brain definitely had not been functioning properly.
After a very pleasant week in sunny CA, I was flying home. That flight was quiet and uneventful which was just as I’d hoped. The adventure with Donna was far more than I could handle for one trip, and I was going home praising the One who had orchestrated it all.
Here I share a story about how an extra large, bulging purple backpack went missing in Guatemala’s capital city thanks to my forgetfulness. It is one of my favorite experiences from my second visit to that lovely country. Enjoy!
“There’s Craig,” I told my friend and traveling companion, Lavina. Quickly I stood and gathered my things. The time was about six am in a busy bus terminal in Guatemala City. So busy, in fact, that Lavina and I had been sitting on the cold concrete floor for over half an hour because all the benches were full. We had just arrived on a night bus from El Chal, where we were living with Lavina’s brother and family. The eight-hour ride from the Peten to the Capital had been unusually quiet and without delays. Our final destination was Oratorio in southern Guatemala for the Easter vacation. After staying with friends there, we would return to the Capital to attend a youth institute over the coming weekend.
Craig now met us with a smile, and looked surprisingly chipper for having been awakened by my phone call at 5 am. He moved to help us with our bags, and then asked in surprise, “Is this all you have?”
His query caused me to jerk in horror. I whirled, surveying our collection of belongings and gasped aloud as I realized I did not have my big purple backpack. “Oh no!” I moaned. “I forgot to get my backpack from the bus’ luggage compartment!” Craig wasted no time. He quickly led us out into the street and pointed to the waiting mission van. “I heard a man calling out about a forgotten bag as I was coming in to get you”, he explained. You girls get in the van and I’ll see if I can find him.”
Lavina and I made our way through the crowd of people and across the street. I groaned inwardly as we got into the van. “That was so stupid of me”, I lamented to Lavina, and our driver, Larry. “If that bus is gone I will never see my bag again.”
Within minutes Craig returned, his face grim. “Your bus has already gone to their headquarters for the day”, he told us, “with your backpack probably still on it.”
“So they don’t have a lost and found collection here?” I knew the answer before I even asked. This was Guatemala, not the Mall of America. Craig smiled dryly. “We have two options,” he continued, “I can come here tonight at nine when the bus is back, or we can drive up to the bus lot and try to find it.”
After a quick discussion we decided to head for the bus company headquarters. Craig told us it was a half hour drive back in the direction Lavina and I had just come. It was also on the opposite side of the city from MAM headquarters where we were supposed to be going. This news made me only feel worse.
“Lydia,” Craig turned to me, “Is there anything in the backpack important like your passport or money? Because there is a really good chance we are not going to find it.”
I shook my head. “No, it just has all my clothes for the week.”
Everyone in the van laughed.
A half hour later we found the head office and Craig went in to inquire after the bus. He returned with the news that it wasn’t there, but he had been advised to check across the road. Craig didn’t seem too optimistic but I was hopeful. The entire ride I had been praying about the situation, and somehow I just knew that God was going to take care of it.
Larry drove us to the other side of the road and we quickly spotted several rows of buses at the top of a hill. There was just one problem – a concrete wall surrounded them. We went up there anyway, only to discover that they were not the right buses. Both Craig and Larry had been great sports during our hunt, but I could sense this was beginning to push their patience.
On our way up the hill we had seen another row of buses behind a gas station, so Craig decided that we try it as a last resort. Larry parked in a vacant lot and Craig got out. Lavina, Larry and I waited, talking to pass the time. I was silently doing some more praying. The thought of losing all those clothes was not a pleasant one. My wardrobe for this trip to Guatemala was already minimal, with most of my dresses being in that backpack. To be without them, especially for this vacation, was somewhat of a disaster.
The minutes dragged by. I began to worry that something had happened to Craig.
After what seemed like an eternity he appeared, and slung over his shoulder was my purple backpack. Joyfully I hugged Lavina and exclaimed, “Praise the Lord!”
We got on the road again, with Craig relating to us the story of his search. He’d been allowed into the bus area only reluctantly by the guard, and had spent most of his time going down the line of buses looking inside their luggage areas until he finally found my bag. I thanked Craig for trying so hard, and Larry too. Both had been willing and patient during the trip. I was also thanking my heavenly Father who so graciously watched out for me in my carelessness.
We got to the mission headquarters much later than expected, but there was still a hot breakfast left for us. And we didn’t have to wait long for our friends Samuel and Priscila to arrive. They were our ride to their hometown of Oratorio.
Once the week was over and we were packing on Sunday night after institute to return to El Chal, I handed Craig my purple backpack. He took it, then a look of recognition passed over his face. “I remember this bag,” he laughed while loading it into the van. I smiled back. “You probably won’t be forgetting it for a long time either.”
Certainly that backpack had created a hard-to-forget story for the four of us that day. God had also used it to teach me a lesson about carelessness. Perhaps most importantly, though, He showed me His power by returning a forgotten backpack.
The Lord is good unto them that wait for him, to the soul that seeketh him.
It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for the salvation of the Lord.
Lamentations 3:25&26
It’s been two whole years to the day since I first stepped off a big red bus into a little town in the northern jungles of Peten, Guatemala. It was a day that marked the beginning of my life changing forever. There I was with my best friend, entering a world full of unknowns. I was thrilled beyond measure. That trip, starting with my goodbyes at home, then to the airplane flight, and finally the 11 hour bus ride, was a dream come true. And the adventure had just begun.
For the next two months my friend and I were welcomed into a community and church family that we came to love. We learned to see things through the eyes of the culture, which varied vastly from our own. We learned to think differently; to act appropriately during the various situations we encountered. The experience grew both my friend and me in ways we might not have expected. I for sure came home a different person.
Since that first trip to the Peten, I have gone back once for a 6 week visit. It was as enjoyable as the first, perhaps even more so. I learned many more things and grew spiritually. On both trips I gained deeper understanding and insight into the ways of my Heavenly Father.
Despite the highlights of the last two years, I can’t help but reflect back on them and wince a little. Not only did I gain much, but I lost things as well. Loss of things I’d wanted, dreamed of, and even prayed for. Sometimes I feel a bit like a kid who has just watched his bag of marbles spill on the floor, rolling away in 20 different directions. Which ones do you chase after? Should you even try ? Most likely you will never find them all again.
Not too long ago I heard a sad story of a mother sharing about her daughter and son in law, currently being held hostage in Afghanistan. She has not seem them for two years, has never met her two grandchildren. The mother told of how she was sorting through her daughter’s things, and came across a box labeled “my dreams”. The box was empty.
The story broke my heart – from the hurt of the parents aching for their lost family to the daughter’s loss of dreams. I identified quite well with the empty box. I could have easily had one full before that first journey to Guatemala. Now, two years later, my life has been turned upside down and backwards. My box has been emptied.
Ok, that is quite enough morbidness for one day. Now let’s get to the good part of my story.
When I think back on what I’ve gained and what I have lost, I know that the loss wasn’t really a losing as much as it was simply a changing. I may think I’ve lost so much, but in reality I have been set free. Set free of things that hindered my walk with God; loosed from hidden bondage in my heart. If that wasn’t enough, God proceeded to take even what I’d once thought was from Him! I don’t pretend to understand why or even if those things were from God. I just know that they are no longer. But I’m waiting, and watching, and half hoping for the fulfilment of even just one desire. And this is where I come to the hallway analogy.
My life existence is in a hallway right now. There are several doors with signs on them lining the hall, all firmly closed. And here I am waiting and wondering, and looking from one to the next, hoping at least one could open… But it doesn’t. Not even a teeny, tiny bit.
For years I have used the expression “waiting on the Lord” in a way different from what it sounds like. The word “waiting” means to be in the state of staying where one is or delaying action until a certain time or until something else happens. We normally think of waiting as sitting still. I like Josh Harris’ little phrase, “hustle while you wait.” In other words, don’t be idle while you wait for whatever it is your waiting for. Get off your duff and do something. Similarly, I see the waiting on the Lord as serving him, just as a waitress or waiter waits on tables. The martyr Stephen waited on tables. Why shouldn’t we? Not necessarily in the literal, but figuratively. There is so much to be done right where we are to be in service for our King. And we can do it in the hallway, while we wait for the answers and directions we desire.
For all of you who can identify with this hallway analogy, you know and understand that it is not easy. We watch others going through doors we wish were open for us. We wonder what they did to be worthy of the fulfilment of their dreams. We wonder if there is something wrong with us. It hurts. It often doesn’t seem fair. Yet our Heavenly Father asks us not to compare ourselves with others. Your situation is unique to you, and there is always a reason for where you are and where someone else is. Trust God, and trust the process. You are being shaped and refined through the circumstances that you face. You can rest assured that God is good, and He will make your life beautiful as you yield to His will.
I believe a door that we probably all desire to see open some day is the one labeled “marriage”. I’ve known since I was old enough to notice boys, and begin having boy troubles, that one of the hardest things for we girls to wait for is Prince Charming. And I absolutely despise that terminology because prince charming does not exist. He is a figment of imagination; a concocted fairy tale character that doesn’t exist beyond the tales. Guys are human, just like girls. They aren’t perfect nor do they ride from the sunset on a white horse. All the same, what girl doesn’t dream of a handsome, sweet guy coming into their life and loving her for who she is? It’s built into us to desire that and it’s good! But what is a girl to do when her world is full of bozos and not a Boaz in sight? I always get a good laugh from the articles I’ve read about waiting for the right guy. “What if he died as a baby? Or got hit by a car? Or maybe he’s just riding a really slow turtle?” It’s all written in fun as they jokingly come up with solutions for their missing boyfriend. Where could that guy possibly be? Does he even exist?
I laugh at these ridiculous explanations, but believe me I do wonder myself at times. Especially lately as I deal with the frustration of an extended period in the hallway, waiting for a door to open. The truth is, whatever it is we are waiting for, God knows. He will fulfill our good and right desires in His timing and according to His plan.
It is the waiting period that is always the hardest. But for me, as I have gone through the trials of the past two years, the Lord has been showing me how to wait, and even thrive in the hallway.
What am I supposed to do right now during this season?
Number one is to trust God. Does He not know my pain and frustration? Does He not know my fears and anxieties? He most assuredly knows them all and asks me to set everything aside to rest in Him.
Number two is to praise and adore Him. I think I’m getting better at this one. The clamor in my heart and mind ceases when I come before him in praise and thanksgiving. It is not only our duty to praise Jesus, it is a necessity! A verse I love in Lamentations 3 says, “Let us lift up our heart with our hands unto God in the heavens.” (v 41) That essentially means to praise Him! I need to draw from His living fountain day and night in order to walk in joy and peace. The days I struggle the most are usually the ones I missed praising and praying that morning.
Number three is stay busy. (You knew I was going say that.😃) It is a repeated theme through my few blog posts I know, but it works! Hustle while you wait. Help someone, find meaningful work and do it all for the glory of God.
I’m coming to find out that this life of mine in the hallway, in a limbo so to speak, is not really so bad. If I could spend more time praising, praying, and serving and less time bemoaning my lot I’d be better off! I’m getting there, one day at a time, and I hope that any of you who are in this same boat can learn these things too. It’s a daily test in faith. We need Him, and we need His Holy Spirit working in our lives.
We can praise Him in our hallway because He is good, and His mercies endure forever.
Hold on, my heart, in your believing- only the steadfast wins the crown; He who, when stormy winds are heaving, parts with his anchor, will go down; But he who Jesus holds through all, will stand, though heaven and earth shall fall. Hold on! An end will come to sorrow; hope from the dust will conquering rise; The storm foretells a summers morrow; the cross points to Paradise; The Father reigns! So cease all doubt; Hold on, my heart. Hold on, hold out.
On an evening not too long ago I unearthed my copy of Elisabeth Elliot’s book, Passion and Purity, from the stack of books in my closet. I was in need of some encouragement and Elisabeth’s words have a way of giving hope. Even though I’ve read the book many times over, I’ll never be tired of it. The wisdom and guidance found in it’s pages are timeless, and invaluable for young people navigating the often rough and complicated journey of singleness. Maybe sometime I should write a book review on it to convince you all to buy a copy.
No, never mind. I don’t want another writing project.
My advice- just go read it and decide for yourself!
Anyways, as I was flipping through the book reading random pages, I saw a scripture reference I did not remember seeing before. I made note of it and continued reading. The next day I looked up the passage in Hosea 2:14-23. By the time I got to verse 19 I was grinning.
Do you ever feel sometimes like you get a hug from God? Though it sounds rather illusory, I have at times felt like He gave me one. As I read Hosea chapter 2 I couldn’t stop smiling because I definitely had just been hugged by my Heavenly Father. He knew what I was struggling in, and He gave me the encouragement I needed.
Here are the words from Hosea 2 that stood out to me above the rest.
And I will give her vineyards from thence, and the valley of Achor for a door of hope: and she shall sing there, as in the days of her youth, and as in the day when she came up out if Egypt.
And I will betroth thee unto me forever; yea, I will betroth thee unto me in righteousness, and in judgement, and in loving kindness, and in mercies.
I will even betroth thee unto me in faithfulness: and thou shalt know the Lord. 2:15,19-20
Though the “door of hope” part is really what I wanted to write about, the betroth verses bear some importance and are worthy of some thought. They were what first caught my attention.
The word betroth in this passage is used three times! What I found really neat was the meaning of the term “betroth”. It sounds a bit archaic these days, being a word not used much in our modern English. Who on earth is betrothed anymore anyways?
Well, I discovered that to betroth essentially means to “make to belong”. In the practice of arranged marriages, two sets of parents would betroth their children, thus ensuing a betrothal period that could be years long depending upon the age of the young people. The contract and dowry price were legal and binding, even as much as marriage itself.
Now apply that meaning to the verse in Hosea, and we see that God has betrothed us to himself, with a bond that can only be broken by us walking away. He will not break His covenant. Ever.
After I had been reading over and over about being betrothed to God (while smiling like a little kid), I jumped back up to verse 15 and became captivated by the door of hope. What was a door of hope?
This is my take on it. The door of hope is a door you’d like to see opened, but you don’t know yet if it is what God wants for you. So you wait beside it; hoping, watching, praying. It may open, it may not. But with God there is always hope and you can rest in His faithfulness and sing! I liked that part the best – “and she shall sing there.”
Yes, I can sing. Even though quite often I’d rather cry outside my door of hope and bang on its cold, foreboding surface crying out for it to open. Like a spoiled child I want to wail and try to force it open my way so I can have what I want.
Then I hear my Father gently reminding me that I am His. He has that door closed for a reason, and it is for my good. Like the chick hatching from it’s shell that is supposed to struggle in order to be strong, I must suffer the pain and difficulty of waiting.
If you have a door of hope right now, and you feel as if you’ve been staring at it closed for too long, remember Hosea 2:19-20. We are betrothed to God. He has us in the palm of His hand and will never walk away! Some doors are closed for a reason, and always for our good.
His ways are best.
Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is the greatest in the kingdom if heaven. Mat. 18:3,4
Lately I’ve been spending time with kids. I can’t seem to help myself. When it comes to the choice between playing Red Rover with 10 kids all under 12, or sitting around a table discussing lots of crazy, random topics with my peers, I’ll choose the former any day.
There’s something so refreshing, and so simple about children. Especially those that come from conservative Christian homes. I enjoy listening to the little girls in our church fellowship more than those that are my age. Removed from much of the world’s influence, their conversation does not include video games, movies, music artists, TV stars and the like. (That’s just to name a few). Rather, they love to talk about their cat and kittens, what they learned in school that week, and how big their tomato plant is getting. On Sundays these girls make me smile when I don’t feel like smiling, and I laugh more with them than I do all week.
Not too long ago I had four boys at my disposal to work at whatever task I gave them to do. I quickly identified several rows in the garden that needed to be weeded, and I left to work on other things. After weeding was done, and a lunch break, we planted a row of leeks. When we were done with the row I told them all that they could go play because I didn’t have any more work. You should have seen those delighted faces! They went racing across the lawn shouting to each other about what they were going to play. I turned to my sister shaking my head. “Oh to be a kid again”, I said grinning. It was too cute watching them run even though they’d just been out working in the hot sun for several hours. Where did they get their energy?
Perhaps what I enjoy most about kids is their simplicity. They are uncomplicated and seem to have the right perspective most of the time. How so? Well, for one thing they live in the moment, for today and give it their all. They laugh and smile and in general are just happy. That is, until they don’t get to go to town with mom, or their favorite chicken dies, or the dog chews the seat off their bike. (These are some of the lamentations of my brothers.)
I wonder sometimes how much better my life would be if I was more like the kids I spend time with. For example, They are simple. Me, on the other hand, not so much. I tend to overcomplicate and turn things into something they aren’t. They live for today, while I am forever thinking about the future. Their demeanor is carefree and joyful, but I often am burdened and sad. Perhaps that’s because my life is so complicated.
Yet it doesn’t have to be.
I think I finally realized that fact last Sunday while eating lunch sitting in the seat eight year old Hope had assigned me (next to her of course). There were four of us girls on one side of the table, and across from us sat four little boys. As I surveyed this silly group and listened to their chatter, I became lost in thought. When did my life lose this laughter and joy, I wondered. When did I become so serious and burdened?
It happened when I began to let outside things plunder and steal what should have been coming from within. Inside joy and happiness is unaffected by the people and situations in our lives because it stems from God and His Spirit. No one can take that away from us! Your whole world can be crumbling apart and still you can sing. I want that unshakable joy and peace that trusts and loves Jesus as simply as the little children He referred to in the gospels. While gathering them to him He told His disciples probably the last thing they wanted to hear. “Become like these little children in order to enter the Kingdom of Heaven.”
Okay…Why did He say that? Aren’t we supposed to grow up and be mature?
What Jesus meant was that in order to be great, you must become low. And to be low is to be humble, and simple, and trusting like a child. Not immature and foolish, just uncomplicated.
It’s so hard not to be complicated. For me, anyways. I so often have my thoughts buried in the problems, disappointments and griefs in my life that I miss out on the joy and peace from God that I could have. The kind of peace that will keep me safe in the eye of the storm. And in the presence of Christ is fullness of joy that is found as we humble ourselves and become like little children.
Best of all, it doesn’t have to be complicated!
“I’m not going to do it,” I muttered under my breath as I grabbed the seeder from the garden bed and my pack of seeds. I clunked all into the wheelbarrow and headed for home. That clumpy bed wasn’t fit for the seeder to roll over and it was time to eat supper anyways.
This was last Saturday. A day that was spent almost entirely outdoors by all of us, and I was exhausted. The last thing I needed was trouble while planting that last row of beets.
As I returned to the house with my dad, I told him I didn’t plant the beets because the bed was too clumpy at the beginning. The first question he asked was, “did you try?”
Of course I’d tried. Or had I? At most I had spent a few minutes raking, and then maybe 30 seconds of shoving the seeder along before I tossed it in the wheelbarrow in frustration. Perhaps that wasn’t considered trying very hard, but I was tired, and hungry and at the point of tears. I know that sounds rather silly; to be almost crying over a simple task such as planting one row of beets. It amuses me to think of it now. However, it certainly wasn’t funny then!
Later on while cleaning up outside, my dad suggested I go back and plant the beets. Reluctantly, I gathered my things and returned to the garden where that clumpy bed sat unchanged. While I stood glaring at it for a few moments, I suddenly thought to pray. Right there I asked God to help me get it done.
Simple as that.
After a bit more work with the rake the clumps were decreased and the seeder glided through easily. Within 10 or 15 minutes the beets were planted and I was headed for home.
I know it went well because I had prayed.
If I could describe my life right now in one word, it would be “frustrating”. That episode in the garden was just one small example, and very minor in comparison to the other happenings and situations in my life. Lately it seems like I’m often at the point of frustration, or at least, not far from it. I have to always be on guard, and working hard to stay out of that condition of giving in to the frustration.
Earlier this week I was thinking of good ways to keep out of frustration. For one thing, if we are Christians, we don’t have to be frustrated by the external, out-of-our-control things happening around us. If we believe God is God, than He is in control! And if we are frustrated by happenings on the internal, then we need look no further as the problem lies in the mirror.
The following is my list of personal strategies for overcoming frustration. It is quite short, but it covers the important aspects, and supplies some practical, useful ideas for leaving frustration behind! Maybe it will be helpful to someone else besides me. 🙂
1. Give it to God
The number one, absolute first and best solution for frustration is praying to our Heavenly Father about it, and giving everything to Him. I find I have to do it nearly daily. Sometimes many times a day, depending upon the situation. And often I forget. As the song says, “oh, what peace we often forfeit, oh what needless pain we bear. All because we do not carry everything to God in prayer.”
The key to no frustration is constant communication with Jesus all through the day. A life so hid and consumed in Christ cannot be shaken or dismayed. I must not be there yet but how I want to!
2. Get busy
This one doesn’t work if you’re working on a particularly frustrating task. In that case, back up to number 1. Otherwise, this is a great fix for me when I need to quit dwelling on the frustrating happenings in my life. I like to get to work on a project and exert myself a bit. Working on something productive helps me a lot! There are endless possibilities and ways to distract ones mind.
Years ago when I was in my early teens, I went through a difficult stage of rebellion. I always knew when my attitude was bad because my mom would tell me to go mow the lawn. That activity, along with taking a shower, were the two things that could do wonders for my attitude. To this day they are still a great help in calming and resetting me whenever I may be distraught.
3. Exercise
This one is a personal favorite. For me, There’s is nothing like a good, all-out bike ride that gets the blood pumping and the juices flowing. A few evenings ago, after it had just rained, I hopped on my bike and left the house. As I cruised along the wet pavement enjoying the cool, fresh spring air, I talked to God. I asked Him what on earth I was going to do, and He reminded me that I’m not going to do anything. My response was something like this: “Oh yeah, I forgot again Lord. It’s you who is going to do something! I should be asking you what are you going to do? Or better yet, what would you have me to do, Lord?”
Isn’t that how it is so often? We think we are going to do something about our situation and in all reality, we can’t! We are so helpless on our own; so completely lacking if we are without His Spirit at work in our lives. It’s times like that bike ride I gain a better perspective, and come away with peace. As in the “get busy” suggestion, exert yourself a bit! Hop on a bike, or go on a walk or run. Fresh air and physical exertion does wonders for a soul and body fraught with stress and tension.
4. Talk about it
I have the hardest time with this one. Some days, on a rare occasion, I may feel like venting on someone (usually my sister). Most often, though, I keep to myself. It can be difficult to put our frustrations into words, and so we hide it until we are ready to pop from inside. Is that a bad thing? Maybe not. Especially if you are lacking in trusted, close confidences, it may be best to be quiet and ride it out. There are times when talking with a person can be very helpful, and even necessary! Being quiet and serious would be my default, but there have been situations where I took the step to talk.
Even when we don’t have those we might share our hurts and frustrations with, there is always our Heavenly Father. He listens, never condemns, and loves unconditionally. He’s my best confidant!
Therefore being justified by faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ:
By whom also we have access by faith into this grace wherein we stand, and rejoice in hope of the glory of God.
Romans 5:1-2
Hiding in the Light 