I slept in this morning until 9:00. Heavenly! The sun was peeking through the drawn window shades as I stretched my arms above my head. I woke up with a song in my heart: “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty who was and is and is to come. With all creation I sing praise to the King of kings. You are my everything and will I adore You.”

With no demands on my time until evening, I allowed myself the leisure of snuggling under the covers for awhile longer, thinking about what I needed to do today as opposed to what I wanted to do. Then I remembered that I hadn’t written a letter this month and it was already April 24. It’s not that I have to write something every month, but I wanted to think about what the Lord has been impressing on my heart in these last few weeks, whether I shared it with others or not. I pulled out my journal and flipped through the pages. It was filled with joyful times with my grandchildren. It also reminded me of the pain and devastation that permeated the lives of people around me. Over a three-day period I had attended the calling hours for three different people who left this life for the next. And I was struck once again with the mystery of joy and sorrow existing together.

As I contemplated this paradox throughout the day, a picture flashed across my mind. Shortly before we returned to the mission field in 1991 after a year of home service in Ohio, Mt. Pinatubo in the Philippines erupted. Several months into our second term, we had the opportunity to visit the communities surrounding the volcano. I had never before witnessed such destruction firsthand. The entire area was covered with lahar (the mud flow from the volcano that had hardened like cement). I wish I could share the photos with you that I took that day. Every direction we looked, we saw the affects of the devastation. So depressing. No life was visible anywhere. As I carefully walked across the lahar, my eye suddenly caught sight of a small bit of color. This in itself was astonishing because all we could see around us was gray, gray, and more gray. I looked down and there, pushing through a crack, was a tiny purple flower. I felt like someone had handed me a dozen red roses! Hope. That was the word that kept repeating itself over and over in my mind. Beauty out of the volcanic ash. Beauty for ashes – the oil of joy for mourning – the garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness – that we might be trees of righteousness, the planting of the Lord, that He might be glorified (taken from Isaiah 61). Verse four of the same chapter goes on to say: “They will rebuild the ancient ruins and restore the places long devastated.” If that’s not a picture of hope, I don’t know what is.

Earlier this month, I had the opportunity to hear a young widow speak at an event in the auditorium of our church. The theme of her talk was : “Hope, when the miracle isn’t yours.” She spoke of the sudden death of her husband, and was brutally honest about her struggles and emotions throughout the days and months following this tragedy. She didn’t leave us in that depressing place, though. She shared with us how God has drawn her close to His heart as she clung to hope. And then just a few short days ago, Steve and I attended a worship concert in that very same room. The theme? “God is Bigger!” We listened to another young woman give testimony of God’s amazing grace in her life after the tragic auto accident that severely injured her husband. Grace even in the midst of pain and uncertainty. Hope. As we sang praise song after praise song to our God, I couldn’t help but remember all that He has done in my life since the day Steve was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer.

Hope. It became an important word, not just to me, but to our family. Hope. Not as the world hopes. But a hope that waits on the Lord, that trusts Him to fulfill His promises. As I journeyed through my husband’s cancer, immersing myself in Scripture, I found that these three words – hope, wait, and trust – were interchangeable. Isaiah 40:31 in the NIV says: “But those who HOPE in the Lord will renew their strength.” The NLT says: “those who TRUST in the Lord.” And the ESV says: “those who WAIT for the Lord.” Another translation says: “those who WAIT in HOPE.”

I read a commentary on Isaiah 40:31. It struck me that “It does not imply inactivity. The [woman] who waits for God to do what He ought to do; to save [her] without using any of the means of grace, will not only be disappointed, but will provoke His displeasure.” If you read the rest of verse 31, it says: “They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint.” Soar, run, and walk certainly are not words of inactivity. We take the step, grasping onto hope, and God will give the strength. The commentary went on to say: “by waiting on the Lord the heart is invigorated; the faith is confirmed; and the affections are raised above the world. Strength has been given to bear trial without complaining, to engage in arduous duty without fainting, to pursue the perilous and toilsome journey of life without exhaustion, and to rise above the world in hope and peace on the bed of death.”

In my own life, and I’m sure the two young women I mentioned earlier would agree, this does not mean that we will not struggle or be afraid or even question the reasons for the pain. But it does mean that we must make the choice to grab on to hope and hold on with even the tiniest bit of strength. As we do, and as we draw closer to Jesus, He will give us more strength, which causes us to grow even closer to Him. And the cycle continues. Through this all, we can be assured that HE is holding US tightly. I gave an illustration to one of the young women. It was one that I heard from Beth Moore in the Esther study. I put my bracelet in her hand and asked her to squeeze it as tightly as she could. When she opened her hand, the beads had left an imprint on her hand. I then referred to Isaiah 49:16 “See, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands.” Something held so tightly in the hand engraves/cuts into the hand. This is a beautiful picture of how firmly/securely Jesus is holding on to us, so tightly we are engraved on His hand.

Hope – wait – trust – in the Lord. Hold on to Him. He will rebuild and restore. He will give strength to run and not grow weary, to walk and not faint. He will bring beauty from ashes. He will give the oil of joy for mourning. He will replace the heaviness with a garment of praise. And we will give HIM the glory!

If this letter seems like a tangled ball of thoughts, that’s probably because it is, and I am still very much in the middle of trying to sort it all out in my own mind. I hope that by the time you get to the end, you will have been able to make some sense of it.

In one of the DVD lessons in Beth Moore’s Esther study that I’m doing with a friend, Beth said we should pray “Hit me, Lord!” when we are wanting to hear a fresh word from the Lord.

Okay. I prayed: “Hit me, Lord!” And every time I turned around recently, He was hitting me. It seemed there was always something staring me in the face, cutting deep into my heart, convicting my soul. It started with 1 Corinthians 13 – the great love chapter. This portion of Scripture was the focus for several days of the devotional I’m using this year. I read through the passage in three different translations and/or paraphrases. Verses 4 to 7 in the ESV said: “Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It does not demand its own way. It is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. It does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.”

The Holy Spirit continued His work in me through a Casting Crowns song that I hadn’t listened to in quite some time. The CD had been buried in Steve’s car for I don’t know how long. When he finally unearthed it, he handed it over to me. I put it in my car’s CD player, and on my way to Wadsworth to watch my grandsons early one Monday morning, these words tugged at my heart: “Just love them like Jesus, carry them to Him. His yoke is easy, His burden is light. You don’t need the answers to all of life’s questions, just know that He loves them and stay by their side. Love them like Jesus.”

Love them like Jesus. Love them like Jesus??? Love them like Jesus!!!

If I am to love like Jesus, then 1 Corinthians 13:4-7 must be the road map I’m supposed to follow. The Apostle Paul tells us everything love is not – it is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. It is not selfish. It is not demanding. It is not irritable. It doesn’t keep a list of all the ways I’ve been hurt or wronged. In other words, if I am to love like Jesus, then I am to be humble as He was humble. I’m to be patient – love never gives up. I’m to be kind. Forgiving. Offering grace and hope. Love protects, trusts, perseveres. It endures through every circumstance. It is sacrificial.

Alright, this is what love is and what it is not. But how do I put it into practice, especially if the feelings aren’t there? Or if the person is not easy to love? Or if the person has hurt me deeply? I’m not to be demanding, but what if the other person is demanding? Or manipulative, controlling? What if the person’s expectations are unreasonable? What if the person continues to take and take and take but there never seems to be any change? What if I’m just plain fatigued?

This is one of those times that I truly believe I think too much. My brain won’t turn off and these thoughts keep tossing back and forth, back and forth. My shoulders start tensing up and there’s a big knot of stress at the base of my neck.

A couple of weeks ago, a friend asked how she could pray for me. I responded with this e-mail: “Balance and boundaries while loving like Jesus with a radical love.”

So, how do I keep balance in my life and put up good boundaries and still love with a radical love? Francis Chan in his book Crazy Love wrote: “I believe God wants us to love others so much that we go to extremes to help them.”

If I’m willing to go to extremes to help another person, does it mean that person has unlimited access to me 24/7? If I put boundaries around a relationship, does that show selfishness on my part? I don’t want to become so absorbed in protecting myself that I fail to reach out to someone who is hurting. How does sacrifice play out in a relationship?

I’ve been reading through the book Boundaries by Dr. Henry Cloud and Dr. John Townsend. The authors talk about appropriate boundaries being healthy – for myself certainly, but also for the other person.

I have to be honest, though – this is a struggle for me even after reading that boundaries are a critical component of my own well-being. Part of this challenge, I’m sure, has to do with my constant battle between coming alongside people as opposed to being their rescuer, their savior. From Dr. Cloud and Dr. Townsend: “Any confusion of responsibility and ownership in our lives is a problem of boundaries. Just as homeowners set physical property lines around their land, we need to set mental, physical, emotional, and spiritual boundaries for our lives to help us distinguish what is our responsibility and what isn’t. The inability to set appropriate boundaries at appropriate times with the appropriate people can be very destructive. And this is one of the most serious problems facing Christians today. Many sincere, dedicated believers struggle with tremendous confusion about when it is biblically appropriate to set limits. Knowing what I am to own and take responsibility for gives me freedom. You must define your intangible boundaries and recognize them as an everpresent reality that can increase your love and save your life. In reality, these boundaries define your soul, and they help you to guard it and maintain it. We have to deal with what is in our soul, and boundaries help us to define what that is. If we are not shown parameters, or are taught wrong parameters, we are in for much pain.”

As I continue to wrestle through this, I have to realize that, the closer I draw to the heart of God, the clearer His heart will become. What breaks His heart should break my heart. Seeking His guidance, praying for His wisdom, listening to His “voice” – all of these will help me find the balance I need. But, and this is a big but, I need to remember that sometimes extreme situations warrant extreme responses. That might include an extraordinary amount of time or effort. In these cases, if God is putting a burden on my heart, then I can be assured that He will provide the strength I need. “Sisters, we were made for kindness. We can pierce the darkness as He shines through us. We will come reaching, with a song of healing, and they will know us by our love.” (Christy Nockels)

No light glimmered from the broken windows. A screen door screeched as it flapped back and forth. The yard was overgrown, neglected. A rusted truck had a garden of weeds growing through its cracks. The seat of a swing dangled by one strand of a rope. A forgotten bicycle rested up against a shed. Desolate. Lifeless. Forsaken.

There is something incredibly sad about an abandoned house. Questions fill my head whenever I come upon one. Why was the house empty? Was there a death in the family? A divorce? A foreclosure? If the walls could talk, what secrets would they tell? Would they be stories of triumphs? Or tragedies? Most likely both. What were the people like who used to live there? Had the now silent rooms echoed with the squeals of children? Maybe a lonely old woman had occupied the residence and she could no longer bear her sorrow in the place that her beloved husband had once shared with her. Maybe she died of a broken heart. Or was sent off to a nursing home to live out the rest of her days. Was there no one to care about the house that held a lifetime of memories?

Some time before my mother died, we drove through our old neighborhood. The Park Lane Manor apartment complex was a wonderful place to grow up back in the 50s and 60s. There were long sidewalks to ride our bikes or roller skate. Big beautiful trees provided shelter for lazy afternoons of playing house with our dolls. Summer evenings would find all the kids running around yelling “tag you’re it” in the huge grassy areas while our parents sat watching and talking. Ah, the carefree days of childhood.

Mom moved away from Park Lane Manor about eight years after my dad died. She remarried and relocated to north Akron. Over the years, she had stayed in touch with one of our neighbors. We stopped to visit with D on our jaunt through the neighborhood. As we sat talking, she asked if we wanted to see our old apartment. Mom and I looked at each other and nodded yes. I experienced all kinds of feelings while we waited for D to make arrangements with the current tenant – curiosity, excitement, trepidation. But it was disappointment that lodged in my chest as soon as I walked through the door and saw the condition of the apartment – run-down. Mom had always kept it looking so nice. I almost wished we wouldn’t have gone in. Trying to hide our disdain, we continued on our tour. Memories came crashing in on me. Good ones – and not so good ones. I got teary as I pictured my precious grandmother rolling out and cutting noodles. Dad watching Notre Dame football games. Mom teaching me how to iron hankies and pillowcases. My cousin Jimmy and I playing with his army men on the floor. A multitude of special memories. But then pain clutched my heart as I remembered the day my grandmother suffered a stroke there in the living room. And the battle my dad fought with cancer. A wave of . . . what? . . . terror? . . . threatened to wash over me as I hesitantly walked into my old bedroom, recalling the sleepless, lonely nights – and the frightening nightmares when sleep did finally come. I almost couldn’t catch my breath. As we walked out into the fresh air, I had to remind myself that God had brought freedom into my life and I was no longer controlled by those old fears.

Thinking about the places I’ve lived has the power to awaken memories hidden in the corners of my mind, to stir up emotions and reactions long forgotten. When telling a story, I may not remember the year, but I usually know where it happened. Steve and I have lived in 23 places over our almost 40 years of marriage. I can tell you where we were living when each of our four children were born. I know which kitchen window the rat crawled through. Or the apartment that caught on fire. Or the house where Steve came flying out the front door in his pajamas, landing in the yard. Or the perfectly color-coordinated apartment our ABF furnished and decorated for our first home service from the mission field. I can visualize in vivid detail every place we have lived. The beautiful oak woodwork in the old house across from The Chapel. The bright red, white, and blue flowered wallpaper in the kitchen of our home in Ellet. The soft lavender walls in the bedroom of our first apartment.

Several years ago, I took the Five Aspects of Woman Bible study. One section talked about a woman’s domain and how her home is part of that domain. I believe a woman’s home is important to her. Whether it be a mansion on a waterfront or a squatter shack along the streets of Manila, she is mistress of her domain, a creator of beauty, a nurturer. But I’ve found over the years that this is true only if hope is still alive in her heart. This became clear to me when I observed a woman sweeping the dirt outside her house – the squatter shack in Manila. The small dwelling made of scrap material was cheerless and depressing. Then a splash of color caught my eye. From a pot by the side of the door bloomed a beautiful tropical flower. To me, this was a picture, not of despair as you would imagine by looking at the house, but rather of hope. The woman was being the mistress of her domain, creating even a tiny bit of beauty by adding that lovely flower.

The longest we ever lived in any one place was five years. Until now. We’ve been in our home here in Hartville for almost eight and a half years. I love my house. I love how God gifted us with this house – how His hand print was all over it (another story for another time).

I love that my husband has given me the liberty to decorate as I want. We’ve collaborated on the big items, but he left the rest up to me. I’ve had so much fun! My living room walls are dark purple and sand. When we were looking to buy new carpet, I debated on the color, having heard that neutral is better when you have to sell a house. Steve told me to go with what made me happy. The purple swirled carpet won out over the practical. This home reflects who I am – from the colors I’ve chosen . . . to my collections of old telephones and scales . . . to the family pictures on the walls . . . to the books on the shelves . . . to the hearts scattered around the rooms.

Steve loves coming home. This means so much to me. I’m aware that what he loves coming home to is me. But I also like knowing that he is comfortable here. It’s a place that he can rest and be refreshed, where he can be himself. I’ve always wanted my home to be a haven, a shelter from the storms. One of the dearest compliments I can receive is when a friend says she feels peace in my home. It warms my heart. Even though the furnishings and objects occupying the spaces of my house may add to the ambience, that’s really not what brings the sense of peace. It’s the presence of the One who IS Peace.

It was a perfect summer day – deep blue sky overhead with a scattering of clouds and a gentle breeze whisping through the trees. The laughter of neighborhood children bounced in the air. My marigolds had exploded and were absolutely gorgeous. Juicy red tomatoes were ripening on the vine. I sat relaxing in a lounge chair on our deck, the one that friends built in 2009 while Steve was in the throes of his battle with cancer.

All was calm in my corner of the universe. But while I was enjoying the serenity, the east coast of the U. S. was being pummeled by Hurricane Irene. The tropical storm was wrecking havoc in many coastal cities. And on the far side of the world, Typhoon Mina was lashing the Philippines. It’s amazing that while other parts of the planet were experiencing such destruction, I was cocooned in an island of peace in my own backyard.

2011 was said to be a record-breaking year for natural disasters. As devastating as these catastrophes were, a good bit of our focus throughout the 365 days of 2011 was on the unrest that spread across the Middle East and other areas of the world. Arab Spring toppled dictators and governments. Financial collapse threatened to sweep across many European nations. The Occupy Wall Street movement erupted in several U.S. cities. It seemed that the world had gone berserk.

On a more personal note, adversity hit our community of friends and family hard last year. Death dealt a blow through cancer, suicide, brain tumors, a tragic drowning. Lives were turned upside down from job losses. Relationships were strained.

We ended the year singing about peace on earth and goodwill toward men. In light of all that happened throughout the year, it’s certainly something we all long for. Requests to pray for the peace of Jerusalem are constantly coming our way from various individuals and organizations. Many politicians, with endorsement from the media, insist that negotiations and peace talks will bring about stability and order in our world.

And yet Pastor Mike helped us see the false hope in this mentality. He spoke to us on Christmas Eve about the Prince of Peace. He reminded us that Jesus came the first time to bring peace to men’s hearts. It won’t be until after Jesus comes the second time that the earth will finally experience peace.

Do you know what this means? It means that the earth will continue to groan. Volcanoes will explode. Tornadoes will destroy. Cancer will kill. Wars will rage. Men will hate. Crime and violence will escalate. People will do what is right in their own eyes.

Such dismal thoughts are depressing and make me want to run away. But in the midst comes this comforting truth: Jesus speaks peace to our hearts. While chaos, instability, and evil surround us, it is possible to possess the peace that surpasses all human understanding.

I recently re-visited several of Edith Schaeffer’s books. In Forever Music she wrote: “A new year has a mysterious appeal. To an optimist, any exciting thing might be just around the corner. To a pessimist, dark clouds of trouble wait to cast a shadow on the next chapter of life.”

Pessimism seems to be a part of my genetic make-up. I usually anticipate the “dark clouds of trouble “– you know, waiting for the next tragedy to hit. With a new year stretched out before me, I thought it would be a good time to rid myself of the pessimism, even though according to Good Housekeeping Magazine, we can’t readily change qualities like that. Regardless of what the researchers think, I still wondered if it was possible to have a more optimistic outlook. I wasn’t completely sure what it should look like so I opened up my Thesaurus to search for synonyms for optimist. Hmmm – Pollyanna, escapist. I don’t think that’s the description I’m looking for, even though there are times that I want to escape. Dreamer? I’ve always been a daydreamer – which really is nothing more than another means of escape. Hoper? Yes, this seems to be the answer that makes the most sense. In thinking this through, as a follower of Jesus Christ, it should not be a worldly “Oh gosh, I really hope that happens” kind of hope. Instead, it must be a biblical hope that is based on truth, laced with the expectancy and faith that God will indeed fulfill all His promises. Maybe, just maybe, that exciting thing around the corner will be Jesus coming to snatch His Church out of this world. Now that’s a promise to look forward to!

There’s been a lot of talk and all sorts of prophecies leading up to 2012 – the Mayan calendar ending on December 21 and the Age of Aquarius beginning. . . Nostradamus’ followers predicting massive destruction from a comet (Nibiru or Planet X) entering our atmosphere. . . doomsday movies visualizing world war 3. . . the twelfth imam returning to save the world by instituting an Islamic caliphate. In reality, we don’t know what will come to pass in 2012. We can speculate, though for me, it’s probably not a good idea to get in the habit of gazing too far into the future. It would be way too easy for me to look through pessimistic binoculars, expecting the worst. It’s safer to live in the present moment, which I’m still learning to do.

As I step into this new year, I want to walk each one of my moments faithfully with my Savior – not with tentative fearful steps, apprehensive about what could happen, worrying about the possibilities – but with a courageous and purposeful stride, because I know and belong to the One who holds the world in His sovereign hands, who “sustains the universe by the mighty power of His command” (Hebrews 1:3 NLT). My trust, my confidence, my hope, and my peace should be in Jesus – and in Him alone!

My eyes betray me. They always have. “You have the saddest brown eyes,” a complete stranger said to me many years ago. She had no idea whatsoever that my dad had just died from cancer, and yet in that brief encounter she caught a glimpse of sorrow in my eyes.

If someone who didn’t even know me was able to read my heart through my eyes, how much more the man that I am married to. I recently had strep throat. All Steve had to do was look into my eyes and he knew that I didn’t feel well. My husband, over our 39 years of marriage, has become quite adept at deciphering the various emotions mirrored in my eyes – a twinkle of mischief and playfulness, a despondent look of sadness, a seething blaze of anger, a reflection of joy or excitement. Since his recent battle with cancer, Steve often catches me staring at him, my eyes lit up with love, and what he recognizes in my gaze is a deep-seated gratitude that he is still here with me.

The look of love is in your eyes

The look your smile can’t disguise

The look of love is saying so much more

Than just words could ever say

And what my heart has heard

Well it takes my breath away (Burt Bacharach)

I’ve heard it said that our eyes are the windows to our souls. This most definitely is true for I’ve witnessed it recently while participating in the Grief Share program at our church. The overwhelming anguish that I saw in the eyes of the people who had lost loved ones clawed at my heart, threatening to undo me. This was one reason I hesitated to get involved. I didn’t know if I could handle a steady diet of such raw grief. I have a strong tendency toward taking on another’s pain.

My spiritual gift is mercy. I love that God has taken my personality and life experiences and wrapped them up with this gift. But there are times when it can be somewhat of a stumbling block because of this propensity to embrace someone’s suffering. On one hand, this helps me to show compassion and empathy. But on the other hand, it can also be unhealthy for I often feel compelled to fix the problem or take away the pain or “save” the person. I’ve had to learn the hard way that most times this is out of my control and, at the end of the day, it really is not my responsibility. I’m called to come alongside – to listen, to weep with, to help ease the pain, to hug, to pray with, to encourage. The saving and the rescuing are up to God.

Have I failed at this attempt to step back and allow God to work? Do I get impatient waiting for Him to do something? Have I made mistakes? Oh my, yes! More than I’d like to admit. I cringe when I think of some of the stupid or insensitive things I’ve said or done. I’m hoping, though, that with each blunder, an increased measure of knowledge and understanding will make its way into my heart and mind. I am becoming more and more aware of the fact that this spiritual gift of mercy, or any spiritual gift for that matter, must be overshadowed by the mantle of the fruit of the Spirit – love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, gentleness, and self-control – saturated with a hefty dose of grace and humility.

Not long ago, I read something in Sarah Young’s devotional Dear Jesus that hit home:

“Dear Jesus, I think I sometimes confuse loving others with rescuing them. When a loved one has a problem, I often feel responsible to come up with a solution. I plunge headlong into problem solving mode, as if I’m obligated to provide sound advice. Please help me stop feeling responsible to fix people, since that is Your role – not mine.”

“Beloved, it is indeed My prerogative to bring about change in people’s lives, as I choose to do so. You can be part of the process, but remember that I am the Author and Director of the drama. You need to follow My script, rather than creating your own. Do not usurp My role in people’s lives, no matter how much you long to help them. When you feel compelled to rescue a loved one, take a good look at the quality of your love. Learn from Me, because I have all authority in heaven and on earth. I could rescue or control anyone at will. Yet I intentionally created people with the capacity to choose good or evil. I wanted them to be free to love Me – or not. Love that has no choice is not real! Subordinate your deficient, controlling love to My perfect, empowering Love. Prayerfully release your loved ones to Me. Release them into My protective care. They are much safer with Me than in your clinging hands. Restrain your urges to solve their problems. Instead, use your time and energy to listen to them and pray for them. Trust in My Love and My unsearchable wisdom. I can work changes in your loved ones’ lives – beyond anything you might ask or imagine. As you release these precious ones to Me, linger a while in My unfailing Love – for them and also for you.”

“If you have never struggled with shame, it is hard to describe what it is like to be set free from its sickening grip. It is one of God’s greatest gifts to us this side of seeing Him face-to-face. I was to discover, though, that I would have to keep giving it back to Him since shame has a homing device and loves to return to the place it used to rest.” (from I’m Not Wonder Woman, But God Made Me Wonderful by Sheila Walsh).
I clearly remember the exact moment four years ago when I released the shame that had plagued my life for far too many years. Pastor Paul’s sermon topic that Sunday in August was Adultery. As soon as I read that in the bulletin, I started to squirm in my seat. Yes, Christ had saved me. Yes, Christ had forgiven me. Yet I felt as if I would carry the label of my sin for the rest of my life, that it would define who I was until I entered eternity. Just the thought of having to listen to the message that morning made me feel physically ill. My stomach threatened to regurgitate its contents. But something amazing and totally unexpected happened. Before Pastor Paul got up to speak, we sang: “Before the throne of God above, I have a strong, a perfect plea. A great High Priest whose name is Love who ever lives and pleads for me. When Satan tempts me to despair and tells me of the guilt within, upward I look and see Him there, who made an end to all my sin.” The song was not new to me. I had sung it many times before. But on that particular Sunday, the lyrics took on a whole new meaning for me. God’s grace washed over me, seeping down into my heart, and I felt clean! The crushing weight of shame instantly lifted from my soul, from my mind, from my heart. That first breath of freedom was exhilarating! I wanted to shout Hallelujah! In fact, I think I did that very thing with a friend out in the hallway after the service!
Sheila Walsh wrote that she had to keep giving her shame back to the Lord because it had a homing device. It’s true. There are times when shame will try to return to haunt me. Satan doesn’t hesitate to whisper lies in my ear, trying to convince me that I am dirty, that nothing can take the filth away. He would love for me to pick that old burden back up again. But his taunts no longer have the same affect on me. I will never go back to that place of bondage. I refuse to listen to my enemy’s lies. Instead, the truth of God’s Word drowns out the false accusations. “Those who look to Him for help will be radiant with joy; no shadow of shame will darken their faces” (Psalm 34:5 NLT).
I recently looked up the word shame in the dictionary. Disgrace is a synonym meaning to put out of grace. My Savior will never put me out of grace. He confronted my depravity in love and gave me back my dignity. Oh, the joy of the victory that Christ brought when I embraced the promise that Matt Redmon sings of: “Our shame was deeper than the sea, Your grace is deeper still.” Hallelujah!

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“It doesn’t matter what you’ve done, it doesn’t matter where you’re coming from.
It doesn’t matter where you’ve been, hear Me tell you I forgive.
You’re not guilty anymore, you’re not filthy anymore. I love you, mercy is yours.
You’re not broken anymore, you’re not captive anymore. I love you, mercy is yours.

Can you believe that this is true, grace abundant I am giving you.
Cleansing deeper than you know, all was paid for long ago.
You’re not guilty anymore, you’re not filthy anymore. I love you, mercy is yours.
You’re not broken anymore, you’re not captive anymore. I love you, mercy is yours.

There is now therefore no condemnation for those who are in Jesus.

You are spotless, you are holy.
You are faultless, you are whole.
You are righteous, you are blameless.
You are pardoned, YOU ARE MINE!

You’re not guilty anymore, you’re not filthy anymore. I love you, mercy is yours.
You’re not broken anymore, you’re not captive anymore. I love you, mercy is yours.”
(Aaron Keyes)

My reading was not the pleasant, light entertainment I would normally enjoy during the early Summer months. Instead, I delved into two books by Nicole Braddock Bromley. Her first book was titled Hush (Moving from silence to healing after childhood sexual abuse). The sequel was Breathe (Finding freedom to thrive in relationships after childhood sexual abuse). Both books were excellent, but I’d like to share a portion of the second book. The author’s words could easily apply to other areas of bondage besides that which comes from being abused sexually. This was evident as it spoke to my heart related to my own personal journey to healing. I’m praying it will speak to you as well.

I used to feel silly admitting that I’m afraid of the dark. It makes it sound as if I haven’t grown up yet. But now I wish that all of us would admit that we’re afraid of the dark. Why? Because I now know that we should be afraid of the dark! The world we live in is full of darkness. It’s all around us. Childhood sexual abuse is just one of the many proofs of the utter darkness in our world. We’re living in a murky fog, and, unfortunately, we’re growing accustomed to it. But the longer we allow the works of darkness to continue, the darker our world will become. And as the haze thickens, it will get harder and harder for all of us to breathe. For a long time my fear of the dark completely immobilized me. I didn’t even want to breathe because I was afraid that whatever scary creature was lurking in the darkness would hear me. But I found that the longer I held my breath, the more my fear grew. I needed to allow my fear to drive me to action. I needed to focus on the ray of light shining beneath my bedroom door, take a deep breath, rise up from my bed of fear, and walk toward it. It took a lot of inner strength to take the first step. But once I did, I found the courage to face my fear with more confidence. Each time I stood up to the darkness, I weakened the power that fear had over me. It became easier and easier to find my way to the light and open the door. That simple act gave me the power to shine light into all of the dark places where I was once afraid. It also gave me the courage to tell my secret, step out on my healing journey, and invite others to support me along the way. Many times while I sat in fear in my darkened room, I longed to hear someone call for me and bring me out of the darkness. I wanted people who were in the light to invite me to join them where they were. I wanted to know I wasn’t alone. And I wanted a helping hand to walk me out of there. Are you afraid of the dark? I hope you are. Because only those who are afraid of the dark will be inspired to shine the light that dispels it. You and I are called to be a light in this dark world. We’re called to make a difference. We need to ignite the flame within us and then unite with others to reach into the darkest places around us. Pretending away the darkness or giving in to it by saying “This is just how it is” will only allow evil to grow. We must find the courage to face the darkness head-on in our own lives, and then we must come together to boldly shine light into the dark world we live in. Once the fog is lifted, we’ll all be free to breathe. In the Sermon on the Mount, Jesus said, “You are the light of the world” (Matthew 5:14). He wasn’t speaking to a crowd filled with the rich, the beautiful, the successful, or the most influential people of that time. No. He was talking to the poor, the sick, the abused, the outcasts. He loved these people, and He loved them just as they were. Jesus wants us all to know that no matter where we’ve come from or how we see ourselves today, we are a light to the world. The shadows that were cast into your life make no difference now. Jesus sees the light deep within you, and He invites you to see it too. So come out from hiding, my friend. Allow the Lord and those in your circle of inspiration to help you uncover your unique beauty and worth. You are truly breathtaking. Your life letter is inspiring. The Light inside of you is and always will be stronger than the darkness around you.

Inspiring words! Words that touched me deeply. If you leave out childhood sexual abuse, her words could be my own. Hush. I have to keep my secret. Darkness. Fear. Light. Courage. Break the silence. Healing. Freedom. Breathe . . .

Because of my own journey to freedom, there’s a longing, welling up from an intensely gratfeul heart, to help other women find freedom in Christ. Isaiah 61:1 says The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me because the Lord has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn. I am aware that this passage is speaking of the Messiah. But it’s as if the Lord Himself etched these very words on my heart. I’m confident this is the direction that He wants my life to go at this particular season – I am compelled to be a light, to share what God’s miracle of grace has done in my life. This is why I am so passionate about Beth Moore’s Bible study Breaking Free, and I’m sure it’s why there’s such a burden in my heart for the Dalit women of India. It’s also one of the reasons I chose to be part of the Grief Share ministry with my husband.

Before I finish this letter, I must refer back to what Mrs. Bromley said in Breathe.

I know what she was trying to convey when she wrote that we should be afraid of the dark – afraid in the sense of vigilance, caution, paying attention to our enemy, being alert to his influence in the world, and recognizing the power that the darkness can have over us. But the author also acknowledges – and I want to emphasize – that greater is He (Jesus ,the Light) who is in us than he (Satan, the darkness) that is in the world. We need to live like we really believe this! The Spirit of the Living God dwells within every follower of Jesus Christ – which means that His power, the same power that raised Christ from the dead, is available to us, giving us everything we need to be victorious over the darkness. How staggering is that thought!

I had the privilege of hearing Amy Shreve sing a song at a Voice of the Martyrs conference last year. It kept playing over and over in my mind while I read Hush and Breathe.

I know the enemy’s real, not just a dream,

but so much greater is He who is in me.

I run, I hide where I am safe. I always call on Jesus’ name.

And then my fears just slip away. I will never be afraid of the dark.

I was a fairly new believer when we moved to Cicero, Illinois in 1979 for Steve to attend Moody Bible Institute at their main campus in Chicago. Just three-years-old in the Lord, it was the first time I lived anywhere but Akron, Ohio. We had two children at the time (5 ½ and 2 ½ ) and I was pregnant with our third. It was a difficult move and one that I did not look forward to. I didn’t want to leave family, friends, and home – all that was familiar – for a city that had once housed gangsters.

Though I was considered a “babe” in Christ, the Rapture was one of the first truths that I latched on to. Before the move to Chicago, I distinctly remember thinking I hope the Lord returns before we have to leave Akron. In my selfish thinking, if He was going to come anyway, I hoped it was before I had to move away from home! I wonder how many times I’ve prayed Lord, please come before we . . .

I’m sure I probably uttered that prayer before we moved to South Carolina. Certainly it was on my mind prior to our departure for the Philippines. And even more recently, before every one of Steve’s CT scans, my heart cries out to God, longing for the appearing of Christ so that I don’t have to face the thoughts of the cancer returning or the possibility of Steve dying.

With that said, I could very easily go into a discussion on fear and faith, but that’s not what’s rattling around in my brain right now. While at Berean Christian Bookstore to pick up a workbook for a Bible study I would be starting in September, I was looking at the titles of new books when my eye caught sight of Anne Graham Lotz’s book Expecting to See Jesus. What a great follow-up, I thought, to the Beth Moore conference I attended in August, and even the musings of my last letter about being prepared for what’s coming our way! Needless to say, I snatched up the book. I could hardly wait to dig into it.

As you have probably deduced from my letters, I would just as soon read as breathe! The sheets on our bed needed changed, the dust on the furniture could have used a good swipe with my Swiffer, but instead I settled down in my recliner as soon as I got home and excitedly opened the book. It didn’t disappoint.

The book is a wake-up call for God’s people. In the introduction, Anne wrote: I’m alarmed because on the time clock of history, it’s five minutes to midnight and so many Christians seem to be sleeping! While I believe we are living in the most strategic and critical generation in all of history, other than the original one and also the one that witnessed the first coming of Jesus Christ to earth, God’s people in general seem to be oblivious of what time it is! We are fanatical about sports, we are consumed with eating and exercise and entertainment, we mob the shopping malls, we are preoccupied with the lifestyles of the rich and famous, we zealously pursue greater heights on the corporate ladder, we fight over church music, we argue over political candidates, we dream of bigger houses and cars and portfolios . . . totally unaware that we are all living on the brink of . . . what? We are living on the brink of radical inside-out, upside-down, never-to-be-the-same-again change! We are teetering on the edge of a giant abyss where time stops and eternity begins, yet we seem to be living our lives as though this life is all there is or ever will be. I see people sleepwalking when they should be on high alert – their eyes blinded, ears deafened, minds numbed, and hearts hardened to warnings such as 9/11. Warnings so loud they should wake the spiritually dead. Yet many sleep on in lethargy, complacency, apathy . . . and just plain denial.

I truly believe that the Lord has been in the process of waking my heart up for some time now. I’m not sure exactly when it started, but I do know that Steve’s cancer diagnosis was a pivotal point in my wake-up call.

My growing desire for intimacy with my Savior continues to define my life and can be mirrored in the words of Joel Rosenberg in the Foreword of Expecting to See Jesus: I love Jesus, but I want to love Him more. I’ve committed my life to abiding in Him and bearing fruit that will last, but I want to draw nearer. I’ve gotten tired, and needed the Lord to pick me up and give me new strength. I’ve gotten distracted from what’s important, and needed a course correction. And now, more than ever, with all that’s happening in the world, I want to see Jesus face-to-face. I want to learn to better hear my Shepherd’s voice. I want to learn how to respond faster and more faithfully when He gives me difficult assignments. I long for the Church here at home and around the world to wake up, to stand up, to step up and be ready to see Christ Jesus by living holy and living bold.

Joel went on to quote 1 John 2:28 Now, little children, abide in Him, so that when He appears, we may have confidence and not shrink away from Him in shame at His coming. He finished the Foreward with questions that should motivate us to wake-up: If Christ suddenly, unexpectedly took you home today, tomorrow, next week, are you ready to see Him? Are you eager and expectant to see Him? Will you be confident and clean when you see Him in person? Or will you be found doing something, reading something, listening to something, watching something, spending time with something or someone for which you will be ashamed when He takes you home?

Will I be ashamed to come face-to-face with Jesus, whether at death or at the trumpet call? Will I feel remorse or embarrassment because I’m involved in something that runs contrary to living the holy life He has called us to? Sobering thoughts.

For the last couple of months, I’ve been working my way through The Church Awakening by Charles Swindoll. In the chapter on worship, he wrote: Worship adds a dimension to relationships that go beyond common friendship. And why is that? The presence of the Lord is in the fellowship, making it invigorating and magnetic. That’s why, when a service of worship is over, many say, “I don’t want to leave.” There’s nothing magical or magnetic about the seats. It’s the “sense of awe” that we read about in Acts 2:43 (“They were continually devoting themselves to the apostles’ teaching and to fellowship, to the breaking of bread and to prayer. Everyone kept feeling a sense of awe”). It’s the invisible, magnificent presence of God. When that awe occurs in fellowship, it becomes worship at its best.

Worship at its best. That’s what I experienced recently when I united my voice with seven THOUSAND other women, all in one place, lifting up our praises to the Lord! It felt a bit like Heaven. We sang: We will dance on the streets that are golden, the glorious bride and the great Son of Man. From every tongue and tribe and nation will join in the song of the Lamb. Awe-inspiring to be singing with women bonded together as sisters in Christ! But as incredible and exhilarating as it was to hear 7000 voices, I couldn’t help but think that it was just a small taste of what’s to come. How much more incredible will it be in eternity, to hear and be a part of millions upon millions upon millions of people – Old Testament saints and New Testament believers – from every tongue and tribe and nation – joining our hearts and voices together in the song of the Lamb. I get goosebumps just thinking about it!

The amazing worship was just part of the reason I was in Columbus for a couple of days this month. My best friend and I left early on a Friday morning, cups of Arabica’s caramel macchiato in hand. We had a great time together on the drive down, laughing and talking, catching up on what had been going on in our lives. Though her house is less than ten minutes away, we don’t see each other all that often because of the demands of life, so we took advantage of the uninterrupted time in the car. Springfield was our first stop, taking time to check out a couple of antique malls. After shopping and lunch, we headed back into Columbus to check into our hotel. Then on to the Schottenstein Center for the Beth Moore conference. I was really excited to hear what Beth was going to share with us since we didn’t know in advance. She has several conferences across the country and each has a different topic. After seeking guidance from the Holy Spirit, she felt that PREPARE was the message she was to bring to Ohio.

I have to admit, it started a little slow for me. I wasn’t quite sure where she was going, but as the evening progressed, it started to gel. And then Saturday morning was excellent. It all came together.

In reviewing my notes, even though there were so many great points that Beth made, I really focused in on Those who are mightiest in battle have PREPARED for it. We have to be trained to be mighty warriors in order to be victorious. The reason this spoke to me is because it’s something that has been on my heart for quite awhile. I sense that the Church in America doesn’t have a clue about what the Church in so many parts of the world faces daily. And yet it is inevitable that the movement of persecution and trouble is headed our way. We are not ready. I repeat, we are not ready! We are poorly equipped – inadequately trained – and have no idea how to do battle against spiritual warfare, because that’s exactly what it is – we do not war against flesh and blood but against the powers of darkness. If I’ve learned anything in my years as a follower of Jesus Christ and as a missionary, it’s that we need to take this threat seriously.

One of the Scripture verses used at the conference was Joshua 7:13. These are Beth’s words: Consecrate the people in preparation for tomorrow. The reason for our defeat might be because we need to remove something that is holding us back. Move it out and victory will return. In thinking this through, I realized that this something, in applying it to today, could refer to any number of things and can very likely be something different in every church. It could be tolerance that goes against Biblical principles. Maybe secular thinking and/or “spirituality” borrowed from other religions get mixed in with the fundamental beliefs of Christianity. Whatever it is, the longer it stays, the more blinded we are, the more lukewarm we become.

I have found, from personal experience, that the power to stand against the fiery darts of the enemy comes only in one place – the Word of God. Not just listening to it on Sunday mornings. Or sporadic reading. But immersing ourselves. These are the very words of the living God, freely available to us and we so take it for granted. How can we expect to be ready, to be PREPARED, to not be shaken when tribulation comes if we don’t have the Word of God hidden in our hearts? Where do we find the strength to fight? Where do we turn to receive the discernment we need when that something comes in that needs to be removed? How will we recognize the lies and the dangerous deception that will creep into the Church? Where do we look for the wisdom and insight to clearly see the trappings of the world? Where, if not in the Bible? How can we have a growing, viable, intimate relationship with the Author if we don’t read His book? We depend on our pastor/shepherd/teacher to impart truth, as well we should. But when it comes right down to dealing with the nitty gritty of life, we each must take responsibility for our spiritual growth and not rely on another human being to do the work for us.

A few chapters later in Charles Swindoll’s book The Church Awakening, he makes this statement: We are living in a culture that is politically correct but is ethically, theologically, and morally corrupt. Right down to the core, our culture is totally depraved. We face hardships, conflicts, and trials none of us would have ever imagined. Why? Because we are in a war . . . an invisible war . . . a spiritual war. The Church must realize this. Every day we encounter our adversary on his turf. Satan’s philosophy of mass deception remains alive and well on Planet Earth. Not surprisingly, it is changing the face of our churches. Worshipers are being deceived by the millions. We need deep truth to cling to. We need a solid foundation to fall back on. We need spiritual muscle to keep going in difficult times. Our souls need the nourishment of biblical doctrine. An awakened church stands firm on the inspired Word of God. The Church should react to the times, not by simply reading the Bible for insightful “information”, but by allowing its truths to bring about inner “transformation”. Practically speaking, even if you believe the Bible is the Word of God, it does you no good if you don’t read it. You cannot apply what you do not know. The best counsel I can offer the Church is for us to recommit ourselves individually, as well as corporately, to believing and living the inspired Word of God.

Beth Moore’s last admonition to us at the conference as she walked away from the podium was: Get in the Word!

I want to be committed – consecrated in preparation for tomorrow. I want to be ready, prepared, to stand firm when adversity comes, whether in my personal life or as a result of being a devoted follower of Jesus Christ.

Standing on the promises that cannot fail when the howling storms of doubt and fear assail; by the living Word of God I shall prevail – standing on the promises of God. Standing on the promises of Christ the Lord, bound to Him eternally by love’s strong chord, overcoming daily with the Spirit’s sword – standing on the promises of God.

An elderly woman died at Akron City Hospital. On September 6, 2008, my mother Anna’s earthly life ended. Two years nine months and twenty-one days later, a baby girl was born at Akron City Hospital. On June 27, 2011, my granddaughter Anna’s earthly life began. These two share the same name, and even though they have not met on this side of eternity, their lives will forever be intertwined.

Sarah and Brandon welcomed their third child, Anna Noёl, into the world on Steve’s 60^th birthday. We celebrated two miracles of life that day! I don’t think she will mind sharing the day with her Papa. I know he’s thrilled to be able to share the day with her! Anna joins big sister Elena and big brother Paul Steven who both fell instantly in love with their little sister.

The name Anna means gracious. I always thought the name Noёl meant joy, and it very well may have that association, but in doing a search on the internet, I found that it actually means being born during the Christmas season. Little Anna was not born during the Christmas season – she was born during the Summer. But her great-grandmother, was born on Christmas Eve!

Our newest grandchild, I pray, will grow up to be a gracious woman, just like her namesake. Hopefully she will display some of the same character qualities of my mother who was one of the kindest and most generous women I know. And since the baby’s middle name has to do with Christmas and Christmas is a time of joy, perhaps that’s another word that will describe my granddaughter’s personality. People frequently comment that my daughter, Anna’s mother, has a “bubbly” personality, so there’s a good chance that this little one will be full of joy, as well.

To say that I feel blessed almost seems like an understatement. Maybe extraordinarily blessed would be more accurate. Our family was all together on July 10 to celebrate granddaughter Madelyn’s sixth birthday – all sixteen of us. Extended family was there as well, but my immediate family now numbers sixteen! I find this to be incredible! I have to admit, it is quite mind-boggling for me! I’m an only child and always wanted to be part of a big family. But I never dreamt that some day I would be the mother of four and the grandmother of seven! Or maybe it’s just that I was hesitant to believe that God would want to bless me in this way. Why is it that we are so reluctant to accept that God loves us and desires to shower us with good gifts? Why are we so often surprised when He chooses to do far more than we can ever ask or think or imagine?

From the fullness of His grace we have all received one blessing after another.

(John 1:16)