2 Kings 13:22-23 King Hazael of Aram had oppressed Israel during the entire reign of King Jehoahaz. But the Lord was gracious and merciful to the people of Israel, and they were not totally destroyed. He pitied them because of his covenant with Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

I have been “oppressed” all my life by a need or compulsion to do more than I could reasonably handle. I didn’t start learning the word NO until I was in my forties, and it’s been a hard lesson to learn!

This morning I woke up feeling oppressed by this blog, which startled me because it has been my dream child for years. As I thought about it and talked to the Lord, I realized that my instinct is to feel that I MUST carry out what I’ve committed myself to: twice a week postings, even when I’m traveling. Then this verse reminded me that the Lord is gracious and merciful. He knows what I can handle with freedom and joy. That reminded me of 2 Corinthians 9:7, “You must each decide in your heart how much to give. Don’t give reluctantly or in response to pressure. For God loves a person who gives cheerfully.”

If you’ve been reading this blog, you know that while I was in Mexico, I lost about fifty “But God” posts I had written in anticipation of the intensity of the fall travel. No one has been able to explain to me how this bizarre event occurred. The loss to me feels irreplaceable. It feels to me like the blog, instead of complimenting the book, is now in direct competition for my already-challenged time and emotional energy. I can’t count on finding time to write new posts twice a week.

What I’m coming to even as I write this is a decision to boldly say “God is gracious and merciful!” and release myself from the twice a week commitment. From now until Thanksgiving, I will with joy post when I can. And I will definitely post YOUR But God stories when you send them to me!!

Meanwhile, I challenge you to think seriously about how and when God has intervened in your life, and whether you send it to me or not, write it down! Re-read the very first post on this blog. Remember, and tell. Tell at least one other person, to the glory of God, the encouragement of that other person, and the strengthening of your own confidence in God’s concern about your wild and precious life (thanks, Mary Oliver).

And if you think of me, please pray for my emotional stamina through these trips and events with so much focus on Karis. It is both joyful and challenging. If you want to follow my travels, I’ll be posting from time to time on the All I See Is Grace Facebook page.

God is gracious and merciful!

Mark 9:26-27 The boy appeared to be dead . . . But Jesus took him by the hand and helped him to his feet, and he stood up.

I re-read this story today because August 6 in the Western tradition of the church is the day we remember Jesus’s transfiguration. Jesus appeared in glory to three of his disciples, who heard the Father’s voice saying “This is my dearly loved Son. Listen to him.” As they came down the mountain, Jesus explained (again) to his disciples that he would die, but he would rise from the dead. Mark says they didn’t understand; they asked each other what he meant by “rising from the dead.”

Jesus gave them an object lesson. When they rejoined the other disciples, they encountered another son, and another father. This only and dearly loved son was tormented by evil (as Jesus would be) to the point that he appeared to be dead. But Jesus healed him and restored him to his father. Imagine the father’s joy! Jesus would shortly be truly dead, but God his Father would restore him to himself. Imagine the celebration in Heaven!

As I write this, two dear friends have just lost a dearly loved and only son. Another friend has lost his mother. Because of losing Karis, I deeply feel my friends’ gut-wrenching pain. And because of losing Karis, I also can imagine the joy in Heaven as each one’s wounds—emotional, spiritual, and physical—are being healed. As each beloved one’s suffering is soothed; as all that went wrong in our broken world is put right. As God’s tender, gentle love is poured into this son, Gabe, and this mother, Irene. As Jesus takes each of them by the hand, and helps them to their feet, and fills them with the Life that here we can only glimpse.

I’m reminded of the “year verse” Karis chose for 2014. It’s from another story in Mark. A little girl has died. “Holding her hand, Jesus said to her, “Little girl, get up!” (Mark 5:41). Karis had been discouraged. She believed that through this verse God was telling her to stop her “pity party,” as she called it, and get back to living. Indeed, over the next few weeks Karis was more animated than she had been for some time. But on February 5, she felt Jesus’ hand and heard his voice in Heaven. Imagine her joy. Imagine seeing Jesus in all his glory, not just for a few minutes as the disciples did on the mountain, but always.

“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face . . .” (1 Corinthians 13:12).

1 Corinthians 3:6 I planted the seed in your hearts, and Apollos watered it, but it was God who made it grow.

One day when Karis was discouraged about her limitations, her “Aunt” Claudia, leader of her high school discipleship group, told her this story:

A gardener carried two clay pots, one whole and one cracked, down a path to water his garden. The cracked pot felt badly that it could not perform as the whole pot, getting all of the water to the garden. The gardener told the cracked pot to look back at the path they walked each day. The cracked pot saw that on the whole pot’s side of the path, everything was dry and barren. But on his side, beautiful flowers grew.

“Beautiful flowers grow all around you, Karis,” Aunt Claudia told her. “That’s what the Master Gardener wants you to see.”

From then on, Karis’s favorite nickname was “Crackpot.” She took a pottery class her freshman year at Notre Dame, and wrote in her journal (January 2002), “A jar of clay. Working the potter’s wheel I come to learn better what this means. I want to make a cracked pot.”

Karis associated the cracked pot with 2 Corinthians 4:7, “We have the light of Christ shining in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves.”

I myself feel a bit cracked and leaky today. Lord, please shine through the cracks, and by your grace leak the living water of your Holy Spirit. Because you can make beautiful things grow.

In Hershey, PA! 1210 Fishburn Rd, 6:30 p.m. Thursday, August 2. RSVP karenelliottjohnson@gmail.com.

Pittsburgh, PA! Church of the Ascension book signing 10:00-1:00, Sunday, August 5 after both morning services. See http://www.ascensionpittsburgh.org/.

In Joshua 4, God told Joshua to use stones to build a memorial to what he had done for the people of Israel. “In the future your children will ask you, ‘What do these stones mean?’ Then you can tell them . . . These stones will stand as a memorial.” (Joshua 4:6-7) At Stones of Remembrance parties we tell stories about what God did in the life of Karis Joy Kornfield and her family. 

Romans 8:26 And the Holy Spirit helps us in our weakness. For example, we don’t know what God wants us to pray for. But the Holy Spirit prays for us, with groanings that cannot be expressed in words.

In several situations right now I don’t understand what God is doing. I am frustrated and hurt by things happening in beloved ones’ lives and don’t know how to pray. It comforts me deeply to know that the Holy Spirit prays for me, with complete knowledge, understanding, and wisdom. And with empathy for the pain and confusion I feel. He groans for us. With us. Our brokenness does not frighten or intimidate him.

Several years ago while working with incest victims I discovered the Japanese art of kintsugi, which repairs broken pottery with gold. What does this photo communicate to you? Please share your thoughts!

1 Kings 19:3-4, 9-13 Elijah was afraid and fled for his life . . . “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life . . .” But the Lord said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah? . . . Go out and stand before me on the mountain.” As Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain . . . but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper . . . and [again] a voice said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

The recent eruption of Volcán Fuego in Guatemala reminded me of the following incident in my life.

When I was fourteen I had the privilege of attending a retreat for English-speaking teens beside Lake Amatitlán in Guatemala, with a guest speaker from the U.S. His theme was Romans 12:1-2, about offering our whole lives to God. The fact that almost fifty years later I can remember the text is testimony to the impact the retreat had on me.

On the last day of the retreat, we climbed a mountain next to Volcán Pacaya, an active volcano that frequently spews fire and ash. Our climb was a dirty, sweaty struggle through ash many feet deep to the designated picnic spot at the top of the mountain. But it was worth the struggle. The view, as we ate our sandwiches with a cool wind refreshing us, was breathtaking.

After lunch, our speaker challenged us to take the step he had been drawing us toward through the whole retreat: Worship God truly by offering him your whole selves as a living and holy sacrifice. He directed us to find a spot by ourselves on the mountain top to consider this decision.

I still remember where I sat, and the vista spread out before me: range after range of mountains, the volcano to my right, and the lake shimmering in the valley. God’s creative majesty gripped me. In the stillness, I heard God’s whisper, “What are you doing here, Debbie?”

Like Elijah, I told the Lord I was at the end of my rope. I had hit a wall. I wanted to be done.

Like Elijah, I felt completely alone. I felt I couldn’t talk to anyone about the things I struggled with, the wounds I had suffered and the burdens I carried. Coming to the end of this retreat, I didn’t think I could handle going back to my real life.

What was I doing there? I was offering God my broken, weary self, and asking him to take me from that mountain top directly to Heaven. But as he did with Elijah, God sent me back. He said, “I will go with you. Listen for my gentle whisper.”

As he did with Elijah, he showed me I was not alone.

2 Samuel 11:27 When the period of mourning was over [for the death of Bathsheba’s husband], David sent for her and brought her to the palace . . . But the Lord was displeased with what David had done.

There’s something very satisfying about pulling crab grass out of my garden.  Especially since I’ve been away from weeding for three weeks and there’s been plenty of rain, so the unsightly things have had the chance to stretch their ugly tendrils in all directions. Find the root and with one good yank the whole thing comes free.  I can almost feel the flowers taking a deep breath of relief.

As I was weeding early this morning before my grandson Caleb arrived to play while his mommy and daddy work, I wondered whether the Master Gardener has the same sense of satisfaction when I let him pull weeds out of my heart-garden. Then over breakfast I came to this verse in my daily reading.

Adultery. Lying. Murder. It sounds like a soap opera. How did David, the man after God’s own heart, get to this place? I am SO GLAD that the Lord was displeased. What if he hadn’t cared? Out of his displeasure, God took action to confront David with what he had done. And to give David a path forward, out of that dark, awful place he was trapped in. A way to pull the weeds that were flourishing in his soul.

When I was little, maybe seven years old, I lied to my father. I did it to escape punishment for something I had done wrong. I don’t remember now what that wrong thing was—perhaps it was just a childish mistake, not an intentional wrongdoing. But I remember clearly the torment I experienced as I tried to go to sleep that night, the lie I had told burning into my conscience. It’s my most vivid early memory of recognizing myself as a sinner, capable of deliberately choosing to do wrong. I tossed and turned in my bed for hours.

Finally, when I could no longer bear it, I eased myself from the covers, tiptoed through my sleeping brother and sisters (four others of us in that bedroom), out into the darkness of the corridor, across our little patio to my parents’ room. Shaking so much I could hardly manage the few steps to my father’s bedside, I touched his shoulder. He didn’t wake up right away and I almost bolted. But finally he did rouse, and saw me, and quietly got up and out to the patio to find out what was wrong without waking my mother.

Making my confession was possibly the hardest, most liberating thing I had ever done. Dad listened attentively, acknowledged my sin, and granted me absolution. Hearing the words “I forgive you” has never since been as sweet as it was for me that night. It was the yank of the weed from my heart.

I went back to bed and slept soundly, with relief, peace, and joy sprouting. Dad never mentioned the incident again, and neither have I, until writing these words!

You may be thinking that my “little” lie doesn’t even fit into the same space as King David’s wrongdoing. But I don’t think God sees things like that, because every sin hurts not only us but others as well. And little ones, if not pulled out, soon send out tendrils in many other directions.

From Psalm 146 Let all that I am praise the Lord . . . Joyful are those who have God as their helper . . . He keeps every promise forever. He gives justice, frees, opens the eyes of the blind, lifts up those who are weighed down, loves, protects, and cares. But he frustrates the plans of the wicked. The Lord will reign forever. Praise the Lord!

I just got back from a lovely fast walk through a small piece of bustling Cuernavaca, Mexico, a route that has become familiar to me over the last two and a half weeks. These walks have served not just for exercise but for praise and prayer, lifting many concerns, friends, and family members to the Lord.

This morning my sister Jan listed seven odd things that have happened since I came to visit them. We wonder whether there is spiritual warfare involved because they are so unexpected and bizarre. So I want to ask for your prayers that any plans the enemy may have would be frustrated and blocked. And while you’re at it, praise God with me for all of the wonderful things this psalm tells us about our Lord.

Steve and Jan just left for the hospital, where Steve will have surgery this afternoon.  I had hoped it could be done sooner so I could help more with his recuperation, but at 5:00 Saturday morning I’ll take the bus to Mexico City for my flights home. So if you can, add to your prayers God’s provision of the right friends at the right moments to help with what Jan, who battles severe rheumatoid arthritis, can’t do. Thanks.

I am so encouraged that one day the Lord will reign, forever. Then there will be no more need for surgeries or for medications with terrible side effects. There will be no more death, despair, loneliness, mourning, or sadness. No more scams or fraud or lost computer work; no more hunger, tyranny, betrayal, deceit, or oppression.

One day . . .

Psalm 3:3 “O Lord, I have so many enemies; so many are against me. So many are saying, ‘God will never rescue him!’ But you, O Lord, are a shield around me; you are my glory, the one who holds my head high. I cried out to the Lord and he answered me . . . I lay down and slept, yet I woke up in safety, for the Lord was watching over me. I am not afraid of ten thousand enemies who surround me on every side . . . Victory comes from you, O Lord.”

A few months after Karis died I began having nightmares and flashbacks—3-D “awake” nightmares—reliving traumatic moments with Karis, particularly in the ICU. This time, different from when the events actually happened, I felt all of the powerful emotions which simply had no space when Karis was fighting for her life.

It was horrific. I was afraid to fall asleep, afraid to be alone, afraid flashbacks would hit me at inappropriate moments that would alarm other people. I had trouble focusing on work and on other  concerns. I felt consumed by “me,” a very unhappy place to be. I was paralyzed by the pain and terror my conscious mind had closed off to me until suddenly the lid came off.

My “enemies” were not people, but emotions: panic, terror, confusion, despair, helplessness, impotence, utter exhaustion. I felt neglected and abandoned—when had anyone cared about me during those years of relentless stress and crisis when the focus was always on Karis? I felt shame for thinking these kinds of thoughts; for being what I called a self-centered wimp. I felt completely overwhelmed.

In retrospect, how good God was to shield me from so much of this while I was actually going through it, when the focus rightly had to be on Karis. And how good God was to walk with me back through it all when the time came to face what repeated, unpredictable and intense traumatic events had done to me through the years of unremitting tension and stress. How good he was to provide people who understood what was happening and gave me hope.

As I cried out to the Lord for help with each nightmare and flashback, he answered with relief and healing, one by one, one at a time, over a period of many months. Though I feared it would never end—“God will never rescue me!”—the time eventually came when I was able to sleep and wake in safety, knowing the Lord was watching over me.

I can say now in an entirely different way than before, “You, Lord, are a shield around me; you are my glory, the one who holds my head high. I am no longer afraid of ten thousand enemies who surrounded me on every side. When new ones show their faces, I know you can defeat them too, because victory comes from you.”

Ephesians 2.1, 4-5, 10 “Once you were dead because of your disobedience . . . But God is so rich in mercy, and he loved us so much, that . . . he gave us life . . . For we are God’s masterpiece. He has created us anew in Christ Jesus, so we can do the good things he planned for us long ago.

Did anyone listen to the Joni CD that I linked in the last post? Here are some lines from the song  I wanted you to find (by Joni Eareckson Tada):

Oh Lord, dear Lord, great author of the play

                May I in wisdom learn the only part that I need play

                Is the part that you wrote for me, the part that you wrote for me.

God gave life to both Joni and Karis in unusual circumstances (that on the face of them don’t seem to reflect God’s mercy) to accomplish unique purposes that would not have happened without their disabilities. Check out JoniandFriends.org if you’re not aware of her amazing ministry. Ephesians 2:10 is one Scripture that is behind this song of Joni’s; Psalm 139:16 is another: You saw me before I was born. Every day of my life was recorded in your book. Every moment was laid out before a single day had passed.

What do you think of this—the idea that God has a specific role for you to play in his great drama? In Joni’s song, she realizes she doesn’t have to try to play other people’s roles; only her own. And that God is directing her, showing her how to play her part.

This morning I woke up eager to post what I had already written, only to discover that I have lost over fifty posts—months of work!—I had already prepared in advance of my busy fall schedule. My “But God” document contains a total of three pages! I don’t know what my laptop did with all my work! It’s not in the trash or the recycle bin or anywhere. I can’t possibly reproduce all the stories and wise thoughts (ha ha) that God gave me over the last several months.

I am stunned—but I’m looking to the playwright to show me how to play this part of my script. It’s another opportunity to learn my biggest, ongoing life lesson: trust. How will “now this!” weave its way into his big story? I don’t quite see it, but I know he does! And whether in his rich mercy he restores this part of my life to me, or doesn’t, I will have one more But God reason to praise him.

By the way, please don’t flood me with suggestions for how to recuperate my work. I have two very savvy sons-in-law who can help me if anyone can. Thanks!