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!

2 Samuel 7:4-5, 12-13, 17 [The prophet Nathan approved King David’s desire to build the Temple.] But that same night the Lord said to Nathan, “Go and tell my servant David . . . I will raise up one of your descendants, your own offspring . . . He is the one who will build a temple for my name.” . . . So Nathan went back to David and told him everything the Lord had said.

Have you ever had to go back and say, “Oops—I was wrong. The truth is . . .” One thing that impresses me about this story is God’s gentleness with both Nathan and David. Both of them had their hearts in the right place—both of them wanted to honor the Lord. God just needed to tell both of them that he had a different plan, a different way to achieve what was in David’s heart. The evidence of David’s sincerity is the beautiful prayer with which he responds to Nathan’s second visit. “How great you are, O Sovereign Lord! . . . May your name be honored forever . . . Your words are truth . . . For you have spoken, and when you grant a blessing to your servant, O Sovereign Lord, it is an eternal blessing!” (from 2 Samuel 7:22-29).

The spirit of this story makes me think of Karis writing in the hospital on Oct 22, 2002 (age nineteen), “I want to be an agent for the healing and purification and preparation of Your Bride, Lord. Your Church, Your Temple.”  This theme comes up over and over again in Karis’s journals over the next ten years as she prayed, passionately, for the worldwide body of Christ.

 Was Karis able to fulfill all that was in her heart? She certainly didn’t think so. Near the end of her life, on Nov 22, 2013, she wrote, “My dreams—should I abandon them? I am like Frodo the Hobbit coming to the moment of today with no glory of my own, stretched thin, not beginning to comprehend, rummaging in the dark for Your voice, for the next step. When Abraham or Moses tried to make the promises happen, they failed to please You: hitting the rock, fathering Ishmael. Could I have misinterpreted what You spoke to me, Father?”

Thinking about this today, in the light of 2 Samuel 7, through my tears I remember the challenge my son Dan shared with us after Karis died: that each of us carry forward in our own lives the legacy Karis left for us, especially the legacy of deep and profound love for other people. And I think of “Anthony,” whom  you will meet in All I See Is Grace, living out in his life so many of Karis’s dreams. And I wonder how many of us are meant to be what Karis so longed for, agents for the healing and purification and preparation of the Temple to be the Bride of Christ.

As I write this I am listening to an incredibly lovely CD, sung by Joni Eareckson Tada, one of Karis’s kindred spirits. Here it is on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GFz9I1Ordto. One of Joni’s songs speaks directly to the theme of this post. Let me know when you hear it!

Gen 17:15-19 Then God said to Abraham, “Sarah will become the mother of many nations. . . .” Then Abraham bowed down to the ground, but he laughed to himself in disbelief . . . and said to God, “May Ishmael live under your special blessing!” But God replied, “No—Sarah, your wife, will give birth to a son for you . . . and I will confirm my covenant with him.”

Abraham wanted to help God out by taking a shortcut toward fulfillment of his promise. But God said NO—it will be exactly as I the Lord have planned and determined. Not your way—my way.

One Saturday morning as Dave and I dawdled over breakfast, eleven-year-old Karis walked into the kitchen looking very serious. “Mom and Dad, I have an important request. I don’t want you to pray any more for me to be healed. I read 2 Corinthians 12 this morning. Paul prayed three times for God to heal him and God said no. Thousands of prayers have been said for me and God can heal me if he wants to but it seems like he has said no. I want you to pray instead that I will live the way God wants me to whether I’m well or not. I just memorized 2 Corinthians 12:9, ‘My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.’ That’s going to be my life verse from now on.”

God’s way proved extremely costly, to Karis and to all who loved her. Daily I wished for a different way—a better way, I thought. My way. What God of power and love treats his children as God treated Karis?

But God said no. He said, “My grace is all you need.”

I hate to be told no. There’s a streak of the stubborn two-year-old still alive in me. I think I know better—that if I were in charge, things would be different. Not just different—better.

I catch myself thinking I should be God.

Yikes!

Psalm 33:16-22 Don’t count on your warhorse to give you victory—for all its strength, it cannot save you. But the Lord watches over those who fear him, those who rely on his unfailing love. He rescues them from death and keeps them alive in times of famine . . . Lord, our hope is in you alone.

Times of famine . . . Karis lived with hunger, not because there was not food available, but because her body couldn’t handle eating. Her words express better than mine can the hope in the Lord alone that hunger generated in her. These are selections from her journals that don’t appear in All I See Is Grace.

Mar 4, 2003 My friends want me to be healed; to be freed from suffering. I want—not exactly that. I want to understand, to see what you see—and purpose—in my suffering. I die daily. I cannot bear the hunger. I don’t believe I was created to die of hunger.

Jun 2, 2003 My hunger—physical hunger—seems unshakeable.

Dec 2003 I loved the day, despite the pain and hunger and weariness.

Jan 6, 2004 Give me what I need for this day, Lord. I come fainting from hunger and hoping for daily bread. Teach me, Lord, what trusting You “alone” means, more richly. Don’t lead me into despair. But also don’t let me skim this valley. I acknowledge my hunger before You. Lord, I am afraid. I am vulnerable. Make me strong; guard my heart and mind, fight for this my only Earthly body. If only You would come quickly! If only I could leave this place—

But not without first it leaving what mark on me You would will it leave. Even if I limp for the rest of my life like Jacob, let me be Israel—the one You chose to wrestle with till morning, to birth Your nation, to carry Your dreams and promises, through whom You blessed the peoples.

Sep 2006 The hunger I experienced in 2005 has marked me. I have an anxiety which testifies hourly to the need for physical bread. “Man shall not live by bread alone . . .” but what of that? Can the soul truly function within a starving body?

Jun 19, 2008 Last night something diminished my angst. I admitted, finally, that this missing bit in my brain caused by opioids was not going away anytime soon; nor the hunger; nor the pain; nor the discomfort. That I had to direct all those longings as a reminder toward a deeper hunger: my hunger for You, Lord. I have to direct it into prayer. Not prayer of complaint, but rather of enduring desire. Remind me of this again and again until I have trained my body and my thoughts to this freedom.

Jan 4, 2011 Have I looked more to my happiness than to others’ interests in my time with You, Father? Have I valued anything more than You—be it warmth or avoidance of pain or cold or hunger, be it a particular person or habit? Show me clearly, that I might change. Purge my habits, Lord.

Lord, teach me, too, to rely fully on your unchanging love. Give us this day our daily bread: physically, spiritually, emotionally, and relationally. Take the bread you give us and multiply it to feed others.

Psalm 18:31 For who is God except the Lord? Who but our God is a solid rock?

Beloved missionary friends, already retired and living in the U.S., chose to return to northeast Brazil to celebrate their fiftieth wedding anniversary among their dear friends there. They spoke at a conference June 14-16, concluding with a marvelous celebration of God’s faithfulness to them over their fifty years together.

The next day, Sam didn’t feel well. He and Connie traveled to another city, where a friend was concerned. “He arrived here with a bad cold,” came through the grapevine to us. Friday (just last Friday), we began to receive more messages from Brazil: Sam had to be admitted to the hospital. It’s pneumonia. Their daughter is on her way from São Paulo. Sam’s getting worse.

And Saturday: Sam has died.

As is customary in Brazil, his funeral service and burial took place the next day. (Just last Sunday.)

If we are stunned, imagine the people who were with Sam and Connie, celebrating exuberantly one day; shocked and grieving two days later. Imagine their children, who didn’t get to say goodbye. Imagine Connie going back home alone. Imagine the grief of their friends in northeast Brazil who had welcomed them back with such joy.

For all who knew and loved Sam, our world is shaken. But our God is a solid rock. Please pray that we will all hold fast to him.

Deuteronomy 31:2-6 Moses said, “I am no longer able to lead you . . . But the Lord your God himself will cross over ahead of you . . . So be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid and do not panic before your enemies. For the Lord your God will personally go ahead of you. He will neither fail you nor abandon you.”

When I think about the next few months, I easily feel panicky. I have dedicated the fall to traveling and promoting Karis: All I See Is Grace. Though it’s a lot of work, I don’t mind organizing the trips. I don’t mind the traveling and the speaking. I’m excited about seeing many family members and friends, and meeting new ones. Since I so firmly believe that writing this book was God’s clear direction to me, I am eager to see what he will do with it to bless people’s lives through Karis’s understanding and experience of his love.

What scares me is the emotional challenge of several months of “Karis immersion.” These last years I have walked through complex grief and PTSD. I am in a stable place now, but I still feel fragile. How will I handle an intense focus on all the Karis memories? My enemy is not Karis, not at all. It’s my own emotional vulnerability.

So these verses in Deuteronomy come to me in a very timely way, along with some wonderful words by J. I. Packer in the book Knowing God:

Guidance is a sovereign act. Not merely does God will to guide us by showing us His way . . . whatever mistakes we may make, we shall come safely home. Slippings and strayings there will be, no doubt, but the everlasting arms are beneath us; we shall be caught, rescued, restored. This is God’s promise; this is how good He is. And our self-distrust, while keeping us humble, must not cloud the joy with which we lean on our faithful covenant God . . .

There is tremendous relief in knowing His love to me is utterly realistic, based at every point on prior knowledge of the worst about me. No discovery can disillusion him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about myself, and quench his determination to bless me.

I may be fragile, but God personally goes ahead of me. There is no place the next months will take me that he, my faithful covenant God, is not already there. He will neither fail me nor abandon me.

Thank you, Lord God. May your Holy Spirit make these words come to life inside me, one day at a time.

I’ve struggled with fear ever since getting mugged when I lived in Asia. When it first happened, I didn’t sleep for 6 weeks. Ever since then, it’s been easy for the devil to mess with me about anything he can even remotely tie to that mugging event (which, I might mention was unsuccessful–the mugger didn’t get my bag OR me, and I ran away to safety!).

Recently, I went to the beach by myself to get away with God, as I often do, three or four times a year. I stayed at the beach for three nights, and had a really wonderful time with God. The last night, though, someone came up to my hotel room and BANGED on my door, “BANG BANG BANG!!!” I immediately became afraid and went up to the keyhole to look out. No one was there.

“What the heck?” I said to myself. “Why would someone be banging on my door?” Then, feeling vulnerable because I was there in the hotel alone, I went outside to my balcony and looked around. I questioned, “Should I close my balcony door tonight?  Could someone climb in to my balcony from another balcony?” (I usually sleep with it open so I can hear the waves.) “Yes,” I told myself. So I started to move the balcony furniture around so someone couldn’t use it to step into the balcony.

Then I thought, “Wait. It’s pretty unlikely that that person will be able to actually scale the balconies, and s/he probably wasn’t actually targeting ME…they were probably drunk or high and are very likely now passed out in their room.” And I also knew that if I woke up the next morning with the balcony furniture re-arranged, it would keep me in fear and remind me of the previous night’s fear. I also told myself that I had to drive the next morning and it would be silly to keep myself awake all night in fear. I left my balcony door OPEN like I usually do, because I am protected by God, and IF He would allow something bad to happen to me, there will be a good reason, it will all be part of His plan. But I didn’t truly think something bad would happen. I knew that it was the devil messing with me!!!

I slept really soundly that night.  I am proud of myself for saying NO to the fear and for stepping into God and His peace…and I am encouraged, because if He can heal a fifteen-year-old fear, then He can heal other things too. Of course He can (and He DOES!)!!!  But sometimes, tangible encouragement from God helps to serve as a point of reference.

“Therefore we do not fear, though the mountains give way and the earth falls into the heart of the sea, even there Your right hand will hold me fast.”

“So do not fear–for I am with you, do not be dismayed, for I am Your God.  I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with My victorious right hand.”

“He has not given us a spirit of fear, but a Spirit of Love, and of Power, and of Sound Mind.”

“We have the mind of Christ.”

Psalm 103:17 But the love of the Lord remains forever with those who fear him. His salvation extends to the children’s children.

Friday night Dave and I heard Emanuel Ax and the Pittsburgh Symphony play Beethoven’s Piano Concerto Number 5. On this Father’s Day weekend it was the perfect setting for remembering my dad. I heard this concerto dozens of times as a child. Each delicate trill and soaring crescendo and the full-bodied strings evoke for me some of the warmest memories of my childhood.

I realized as I listened to the music that my very presence at that concert was probably due to a decision Dad made before I was born. Somehow he decided to include among the sparse possessions they packed for Guatemala a few records of classical music and a record player. This is more remarkable considering there wasn’t electricity yet in the remote mountain Mayan-Ixil village at the end of a rough dirt track that would become “home.”

My memories begin not in the one room my parents and three older siblings lived in first, but in the one-bedroom adobe house they moved to before I was born. When I was six, a fireplace was built in the living room, adding to the cooking fire in the kitchen another source of heat. The next year, now with seven children, Dad moved his office from an eight by eight foot room to the garage, so that he and Mom could move out of the living room into their own bedroom. They hauled into Nebaj on our luggage trailer an old couch, an armchair, and a rocking chair to replace the double bed that had previously occupied most of that space.

Thus the living room became a gathering place for our family at the end of the day. No matter how cold the mountain chill, except for Christmas Day we only had a fire in the fireplace after supper, and that made those evenings even more appealing. We read books, played games, and made jigsaw puzzles, to the background (when there was electricity) of Dad’s classical records. As if by common consent, we laid aside the conflicts, emotional clutter, and concerns of the day. Somehow Beethoven and Tchaikovsky knit together our frayed affections before we left the warmth for our chilly beds. My youngest sister recalls hearing Dad’s classical music coming through the door from the living room to the bedroom as she fell asleep.

My husband did not receive a classical music heritage. Dave takes me to concerts to please me, and he does often enjoy the music. But for me, it communicates love and security. My siblings confirm this is true for them as well. One of my sisters says, “I’ve often found that turning on classical music brings an immediate release of tension. I close my eyes, give a contented sigh and start to breathe deeply, relax my shoulders and even smile a bit—signs of feeling safe. A treasured heritage.”  Life by day in our home could be stressful, but God used Dad’s impractical choices to provide a safe space for us in the evenings. Thank you, Dad. Thank you, Lord.