Are you listening?

But God is our helper and shield

Psalm 115:1, 9-11 Not to us, O Lord, not to us, but to your name give glory, for the sake of your steadfast love and your faithfulness! … O Israel, trust the Lord! He is your helper and your shield. O priests, descendants of Aaron, trust the Lord! He is your helper and your shield. All you who fear the Lord, trust the Lord! He is your helper and your shield.

Jeremiah 17:7-8 Blessed are those who trust in the Lord and have made the Lord their hope and confidence.

After we heard Alex preach on Jeremiah 17:1-8 last Sunday, my friend Rhonda challenged me and another friend to listen for the Lord to speak personally to us through these verses.

Tuesday the sun shone bright, and the temperature soared to 34 degrees F, so I took Caleb and Talita to Riverview Park. We all ended up muddy, but that’s a story for another day.

Talita, who turned two yesterday, seems fearless. She whizzed down the biggest slides and begged four-year-old Caleb to join her. He chose a small slide instead. But at one point he yelled, “Grammy, catch me!” and launched himself from a platform above my head. Thank God, I was close enough to do so. He laughed and clambered up to do it again. And again.

What would motivate a timid, risk-averse child to do such a thing? He doesn’t see it as a risk, I realized. Justified or not, he has complete confidence that I will be there for him.

Aha.

I’m listening, Lord.

Yesterday morning I read Psalm 115. I heard God say, echoing Karis’s words from the last blog post, “You worry too much, especially about the people you love. O Debbie, trust me! I am your helper and your shield! I am their helper and their shield.”

I looked up the Hebrew word translated “helper” in these verses. It is ezer, the same word used to describe Eve in relation to Adam in Genesis 2:18. In fact, most of the many times ezer appears in Scripture, it refers to God, the one who can protect and rescue us, the one we can trust to be there for us, the one upon whom we can cast our worries and cares, for ourselves and for others, for he cares about us (1 Peter 5:7).

Is the Father with us?
He is.

Is Christ among us?
He is.

Is the Spirit here?
He is.

This is our God.
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

We are his people.
We are redeemed.

…

All our problems
We send to the cross of Christ.

All our difficulties
We send to the cross of Christ.

All the devil’s works
We send to the cross of Christ.

All our hopes
We set on the risen Christ.

(From the Eucharistic service of the Anglican Church of Kenya)

Can you see angels?

But God’s world includes angels

Matthew 18:1-10 About that time the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven?” Jesus called a little child to him and said, “I tell you the truth, unless you turn from your sins and become like little children, you will never get into the Kingdom of Heaven. So anyone who becomes as humble as this little child is the greatest in the Kingdom of Heaven … Beware that you don’t look down on any of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels are always in the presence of my heavenly Father.”

“An artist is one still able to see angels,” Madeleine L’Engle tells me in Walking on Water. “To be visited by an angel is to be visited by God. To be touched by an angel is to be touched by God.”

Immediately, of course, I think of Karis. Dave joked as she was growing up that she needed two guardian angels, not just one, to keep her safe through all her adventuring and exploits. But in reading her journals, I discovered she had three, and often saw them and took comfort and guidance from them.

Those of us around her, intent on keeping Karis safe and alive, tried to limit her, because she seemed to have missed out on common sense. Where is the line between fearlessness and stupidity?

We thought, silly us, looking at all we had invested in her life, that she “owed” us this: to walk within boundaries of safety, to not risk her costly life on (to us) frivolous pleasures. I placed value on what it took for me and others to support her in her extravagant ideas.

But for Karis, every day of life was Gift. So many times, doctors had said her broken body could no longer support life, yet she lived on. This made her careless, or overconfident, or too trusting, from the point of view of us who did not see her guardian angels or accept her absolute conviction that she would live “not one minute more or less than God has planned for me.”

“Where is the line between responsible faith and reckless presumption?” I would ask her.

“Ah, Mama, you worry too much. No one has ever solved the dilemma of free will vs. predestination. You need to embrace the both-and, not try to reduce it to either-or.” A deflection. I was not comforted. I did not worry less.

So if an artist is one still able to see angels, in what ways was Karis an artist? I remember her economics professor at Notre Dame telling me that after he graded Karis badly on an essay filled with her customary multi-hued imagery and made her rewrite it in proper academic diction, she thereafter submitted two essays for every assignment: one she wrote for herself, and one she wrote for him. “Economics is about Life,” she told him. “I can only understand it in that context. Then I translate it for you into the language that makes sense to you.” His view of his subject was transformed.

And that’s what she did for all of us who paid attention. She taught us to listen, to see, to go deeper. To embrace mystery, rather than try to tame it. To touch Joy. And Freedom.

Ah, Karis. I’m so glad James sees you dancing. With the angels. With Jesus.

Therefore we praise you, joining our voices with angels and archangels and with all the company of heaven, who for ever sing this hymn to proclaim the glory of your Name: Holy, holy, holy Lord, God of power and might, heaven and earth are full of your glory.

The cost of kindness, by Meredith Dobson

But God is right beside me

Psalm 18:8 I know the Lord is always with me. I will not be shaken, for he is right beside me.

The gardener had shoveled a path from the curb to the front door. However, sun had melted a piece by the curb that froze and created “black ice.” I had loaded my arms and begun a walk to the house when, without warning, my feet went out from under me and I was flat on my back, head on the pavement looking at clear blue sky.

Stunned, I couldn’t breathe for a moment. But I was vaguely aware I had seen a man walking on the sidewalk toward me. Now he was beside me trying to lift me up. Suddenly a woman appeared saying “don’t lift her, she might be hurt.” Somehow, I got to my feet, feeling a little dazed, but I felt no pain.

A second woman appeared. My knees were shaky, but they supported me. “Is this your house?” someone asked. It was in my head to explain the long, complicated story of why I was there and whose house it was, but it seemed like too much. All I could say was a quiet “Yes.”

The man who had been walking asked if I needed things from the trunk that was open. I said, “Yes I do – bags from Target and” … my mind went completely blank. In my mind I could see the Staples store, but my head felt full of mush, and I couldn’t find the word. It occurred to me that I had hit my head on the pavement, and I needed to hold on and not faint or say or do anything stupid. “Staples!” I shouted. These kind angels brought the bags into the house for me. Before I could say “God Bless” they were off into the morning sunshine warning me of the black ice.

I felt a miracle of sorts going through me. Nothing hurt. Maybe my hip would have a bruise. Nothing broken. I stood there in this living room belonging to a woman I felt deep affection for and whose final years and now months or weeks or whatever kind of time God had planned for her are mine to watch over. I took off my puffy coat and was thankful for the soft cushioning I had landed on when I fell. I said a direct and sincere “Thank You” to God for no injuries. Then I “heard” Him say, “Ok, Meredith, get to work.”

Throughout these weeks and months that I have been Power of Attorney on behalf of this dear woman, I have often questioned the extent and manner in which my choices and decisions for her needed to be taken. I have asked for advice. I have talked to God. I have asked for guidance. People have offered opinions. People have said what they would or would not do, but at the end of the day, the choices and decisions were mine to make and to live with.

On that day, when I was flat on my back, looking at the sky and minutes later scanning my body for injury, there was no doubt in my mind that God was with me and guiding me. God will help me with mistakes, and he will guide me whenever I ask. My only job is to be honest, truthful and keep my friend’s best interest at the top of the list right underneath God’s. Amen.

Proverbs 3: 3 – Never let loyalty and kindness leave you! Tie them around your neck as a reminder. Write them deep within your heart.

The only scars in Heaven …

But Jesus stands with us February 5, 2022

John 20:24-28 One of the twelve disciples, Thomas (nicknamed the Twin), was not with the others when Jesus came. They told him, “We have seen the Lord!” But he replied, “I won’t believe it unless I see the nail wounds in his hands, put my fingers into them, and place my hand into the wound in his side.” Eight days later the disciples were together again, and this time Thomas was with them. The doors were locked; but suddenly, as before, Jesus was standing among them. “Peace be with you,” he said. Then he said to Thomas, “Put your finger here, and look at my hands. Put your hand into the wound in my side. Don’t be faithless any longer. Believe!” “My Lord and my God!” Thomas exclaimed.

A surprising thing happened as Dave and I listened to Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in E minor this morning, as we always do on February 5^th. I lit several candles, thinking not only of Karis but of Mary and so many other beloved friends who joined the company of Heaven this last year. The flame of one of the candles danced wildly the entire time, while the other flames held steady. I wish you could have seen it! What a gift, bringing smiles to our lips and joy to our hearts.

We also listened to “The Only Scars in Heaven” by Casting Crowns, a wonderful tribute to the One who bore our sin and our sorrow so we could be healed. The lyrics are there, but I suggest the second time you close your eyes and imagine the joy and peace our loved ones enjoy in his presence.

One day we too will dance and celebrate with them. No more tears. No more sorrow.

Don’t you long to see the blooms and fruit?

But God’s righteousness will be like a garden in early spring

Isaiah 61:11 The Sovereign Lord will show his justice to the nations of the world. Everyone will praise him! His righteousness will be like a garden in early spring, with plants springing up everywhere.

*Crocuses by our front steps last spring*

It’s a gorgeous sunny day in Pittsburgh, so I’m not surprised to read that Punxsutawney Phil has seen his shadow and predicts six more weeks of winter. In fact, along with a wide swath of middle and northeast America, a winter storm warning flashes on my screen for tomorrow and Friday, while United warns me our flight to Houston Friday may be cancelled. What a wise groundhog! Haha. To be fair, Phil has only been right 40% of the time since he began making weather predictions in 1887. (Yes—according to Groundhog Day lore, this very same huge groundhog has been alive and prophesying since the 19^th century!)

Though spring may (or may not) take a little longer to show itself this year, we know it will come. Once again, we’ll be able to walk out the doors of our homes without the fuss of snow boots, hats and scarves, heavy coats and thick gloves. Our cars will no longer slide on the ice. We’ll no longer fight the temptation to huddle up at home instead of going out to exercise when the temperatures are in the teens. We’ll no longer lament the beautiful snow turning dirty and icky from traffic and snowplows.

Instead, multi-hued crocuses, snowdrops and hyacinths will pop their heads through the snow and perfume the warming air. We know this will happen in our city.

So, reading much-loved Isaiah 61 this morning, I was struck by the verse quoted above, and the word “will” repeated three times: The Lord will show his justice to the world. Everyone will praise him. His righteousness will be like a garden in early spring.

The plants springing up everywhere will come from seeds and bulbs planted before the winter, I muse. They will be stronger, their blooms brighter, because winter gave their roots time to grow deep. Suddenly I don’t mind the idea of six more weeks of winter. I want my perennials to have time to grow stronger before they pour their resources into blooms and fruit.

And then I wonder what God may be growing inside me through the “winter” of Covid. No, I don’t want it to last one second longer! But, as long as it’s with us, I’m asking the Lord to grow my emotional and spiritual roots deep. To surprise me with “plants springing up everywhere” when we’re through and out the other side of this long trial, and all the others the world faces now.

What good seeds have been planted in your life—their blooms and fruit not yet visible? Can you picture their roots growing strong in this season of “winter” around the world, no matter the external and internal weather where you live? Don’t you long to see the Lord’s justice and righteousness?

What is my part?

God of justice, fill us up, send us out.

What socks are you wearing?

But God encourages January 31, 2022

2 Corinthians 1:3, 4:6-7, 7:5-6 God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. … For God, who said, “Let there be light in the darkness,” has made this light shine in our hearts … but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. … We faced conflict from every direction, with battles on the outside and fear on the inside. But God, who encourages those who are discouraged, encouraged us by the arrival of Titus.

Genesis 16:13 Thereafter, Hagar used another name to refer to the Lord, who had spoken to her. She said, “You are El-roi, the God who sees me.”

At the memorial service yesterday, hidden inside my boots, there was a hole in my sock. A big one. Not at all attractive.

I may have looked decently put together, but I knew the hole was there. God knew too. He didn’t care about my sock, but he cared about what it symbolized for me, the hole in my heart. God saw. The same El-roi who appeared to Hagar in her wilderness. I feel her awe.

God, who encourages those who are discouraged, appeared to Hagar through an angel. He encouraged Paul through Titus. He comforted me yesterday through Jeanne. Her gifts of music unveiled to me the Presence of God with us, evoking the deep comfort of her ministry to us through Karis’s memorial, almost eight years ago.

In this marvelous way—tailor-made, it seemed, for me, though doubtless the beauty and power of worship touched each person there—God strengthened me to walk into this week. Joy and sorrow will blend somehow as I share in the happiness of my brother’s wedding while reliving both the grief and the solace engendered by Karis’s death.

But Jeanne’s ministry of worship yesterday also touched and softened a current grief. My dear friend Mary, whom God used to shine light into my darkness so many times through our years in Brazil, lies in a São Paulo ICU breathing through the support of a respirator, her lungs 75% consumed by Covid. Before I go to bed and first thing when I wake up, I check for news, entrusting her and her family many times a day to the mercies of God.

Yesterday, as the service guided us to think about Sharon free, well, and joyful in the presence of her Lord, I pictured Mary there with her. Both women poured out their gifts of worship and of intercession and counsel to bless and comfort and encourage many, many people. Both suffered huge losses in life; both lost dearly loved sons. Both, through the deep empathy engendered by their own suffering, shone light into the darkness of others. As Jeanne did for me yesterday, in a reprise of her ministry to me almost eight years ago.

Perhaps you have no hidden hole on your sole. Perhaps, though, you have a tattered place in your soul. Perhaps no one else knows it’s there. But God sees. He sees you. Through Jesus, the Man of Sorrows, he understands your fragility. Your fear. Your need. I pray he will touch the tender areas of your heart today with his comfort and healing and encouragement. As he did for Hagar. As he did for me.

Today, I’m changing my socks.

*“… your feet shod with* shalom” (Eph. 6:15)

“Idk if I can do this anymore 😞”

But God bends down to listen

Psalm 116:1 I love the Lord because he hears my voice and my prayer for mercy. Because he bends down to listen, I will pray as long as I have breath!

Isaiah 40:29-31 The Lord never grows weak or weary. No one can measure the depths of his understanding. He gives power to the weak and strength to the powerless. Even youths will become weak and tired, and young men will fall in exhaustion. But those who trust in the Lord will find new strength. They will soar high on wings like eagles. They will run and not grow weary. They will walk and not faint.

Opening my computer this morning, the top post on our neighborhood website is “Life is really getting to me… idk if I can do this anymore😞.” So far, 162 people have commented.

Is that you, too? Omicron and all its permutations and impact + the complications and darkness of winter + too many deaths to grieve properly + political slander, misinformation, etc. + fill in the blank for your own life.

One thing I am writing in that blank is my disappointment about canceling, due to Covid, our Feb. 7-14 trip to Bolivia to attend the wedding of a dear friend and spend time with many others. Our anticipated ten-day break from Pittsburgh winter will now be only three days, as we still plan to travel to Houston for my brother’s wedding Feb. 6.

When I woke up this morning and saw snowflakes drifting down, my first thought was how beautiful they were. My second thought was how treacherous, for elderly people and those with physical disabilities. Several peoples’ names came to my mind. How often Karis slipped and fell in snow and ice, despite my best efforts to keep her safe!

Lord, keep your beloved ones safe today, physically, emotionally, relationally, spiritually. THANK YOU that you care. That you bend down to listen to our sorrows and distress and fears. That you understand. That you renew our strength.

Psalm 116 says in verses 10 and 11, I believed in you, SO I said, “I am deeply troubled, Lord.” In my anxiety I cried out to you. The Lord invites us to come to him, to pour out our troubles, our worries, our disappointments, our frustrations. Hold them all out to the Lord.

And then be still, and receive from him comfort, direction, and renewed strength.

Wonderful, Merciful Savior

When I grow up, I want to be like Ray

But God’s discipline is good for us

Hebrews 12:10-11, 14-15 For our earthly fathers disciplined us for a few years, doing the best they knew how. But God’s discipline is always good for us, so that we might share in his holiness. No discipline is enjoyable while it is happening—it’s painful! But afterward there will be a peaceful harvest of right living for those who are trained in this way. … Work at living in peace with everyone, and work at living a holy life … Look after each other so that none of you fails to receive the grace of God.

While Dave and I were on vacation, we visited a man we respect and admire deeply, who mentored us before we left for Brazil in 1990 and once visited us in São Paulo. During a time of deep discouragement when Karis was a baby and the church Dave pastored seemed to be falling apart, Ray helped pick us up, dust us off, and set us back on the road toward ministry. I still remember what he said when I told him I was so hurt I didn’t ever want to hear the word “ministry” again: “You don’t have a choice, Debbie. God has called you to this. You’ll be back.”

At 85, Ray drove three hours each way on the same day through blizzard conditions to attend Karis’s memorial service. He referenced several things about that service during his time with us. Though he needs aids to keep his balance now while standing or walking—and therefore had to give up chopping wood for his stove—he can still drive, and does so regularly, to meet people for a meal, to make a hospital visit, to participate actively in his church.

Sadly, it didn’t occur to me to take a picture with Ray while we were with him, but a quick internet search gave me this. And this about his wife Eunice, whose photos are everywhere in Ray’s living room. Ray has continued her tradition of amazing hospitality.

On the way to visit him, Dave and I laughed over some of the things Ray said over the years. Like “the grace of ice cream.” And his comment when we proudly showed him our newborn baby, “Now that’s a baby!” (He confessed all newborn babies look alike to him.) And when asked once in my hearing about women wearing makeup, he said, “If the barn door needs painting, paint it!” And “Now I can be a better Christian,” after we fed him when he was hungry.

Here’s a favorite Ray story. When their girls were small, he and his wife Eunice took their five daughters camping. On one occasion, their tent site was next to a group of young people who partied loudly far into the night, despite Ray’s request that they tone it down so his family could sleep. So, the next morning bright and early, Ray walked around their tent banging a pot with a metal spoon, yelling “Rise and shine! Rise and shine!” Within a short time, the partyers were gone.

Ray is now 92, still sharp and incisive, asking questions that reflect his long history and deep knowledge of us, but with a new gentleness. Before we arrived at his home, Dave and I thought he might be up for a two-hour visit. Four hours later, he was still going strong. We were the ones who called it, not him. What a precious, holy, encouraging time. A gift. A privilege.

Ray gave us a vision and model of holy living in retirement. He didn’t set out to do so; it just happened as he shared his life with us. His prayer every morning is, “Lord, how can I serve your people today?” And at night he asks, “So, Lord, how did I do? Did I communicate your grace to the people you sent me today? Did I listen well? Did I submit to you? Was your Spirit free to flow through me?” His own prayer of examen.

During the quiet times when Ray is not actively engaged with people, he spends most of his time praying for them. And reading. We were impressed with how up to date he was on current events, and how penetratingly he commented on issues of concern to America and the world. On Thursdays he cooks dinner for his three daughters and an “adopted” daughter who live close enough to come. He says their conversation is wide-ranging and always teaches him things he needs to learn. Thinking of him planning and cooking his love-feast for tonight makes me smile with gratitude to have experienced the overflow of Ray’s generosity in our own lives.

Ray shared many stories with us of what God taught him through his faults and failures over his many years. He told us his whole life now can be summed up in these simple words: “I bow to you, Lord of the universe, Lord of my life.”

When I grow up, I want to be like Ray.

Whiter than Snow

But God purifies

Psalm 51:1-7, 17 Have mercy on me, O God, because of your unfailing love. Because of your great compassion, blot out the stain of my sins. … But you desire honesty from the heart, teaching me wisdom even there. Purify me from my sins, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow. The sacrifice you desire is a broken spirit. You will not reject a broken and repentant heart, O God.

Dave and I drove into Pittsburgh from a lovely two-week vacation just as snow began to fall. We scrambled to unload the car, then Dave checked the plastic on all the windows while I ran to the library with an overdue book and stopped at Aldi for essential groceries. The lines were long with others doing the same thing. We were happy then to hunker down and watch the snow fall. And start catching up after two weeks neglecting various aspects of life in Pittsburgh.

This morning the world seemed hushed, muted by the pristine layers of winter loveliness. As Dave and I shoveled our walks and driveway, I welcomed the stillness as an invitation to be quiet before the Lord. Psalm 51 came to my mind. For several months my spirit has been broken as I became aware I deeply hurt someone I deeply love. Saturday I was broken again as I realized I hurt my friend once more, by responding too quickly, by not listening carefully before I spoke.

Honestly, Lord, I prayed as I shoveled, I feel despair at my sin. I know I can’t fix myself. Only you can cleanse and change me. I don’t know how to walk forward. I don’t know how to mend or how to heal my heart or my friend’s. One more time I offer my brokenness to you and ask for your help. Thank you for assuring me in Psalm 51 you will not reject my broken heart. Because of you unfailing love and great compassion, have mercy on me. Have mercy on us.

Psalm 51 ends on a note of hope, the hope of singing joyfully of God’s forgiveness. I look forward to the restoration GOD can accomplish–even though I can’t.

*Look with favor on us and help us. Rebuild our walls.* Psalm 51:18

Amigos brasileiros, notícias boas: O lançamento pela Editora Betânia do livro Karis, só vejo a graça em MARÇO!