The Lord Has Been Our Shepherd

You just might see a few extra posts in the next few days. As a matter of fact, you will definitely see at least one, this one.

My mother has gone on to her eternal Home. I don't say that as some sort of vague platitude: her home in the clouds, or gaining her wings, or her immediate mastery of the harp. I mean that in the sense she is with Jesus, and being with Jesus is Home, does transcend this world, is gain (not of wings, I'm pretty certain), and is mastery, but I don't think it has much to do with musical instruments. My mom is complete and made like her Savior. She has been raised in glory. She is healed, pain-free and of sound mind. She is surrounded by joy; she is in the presence of Jesus, in the place prepared for her. She is, I believe in a place I have no right, no power, and no desire to keep her from. In fact, it is my prayer, I effectively, gently, lovingly guided her there.

I have a vivid memory of my mother praying the sinner's prayer. It was 1976, Mom was registering to vote for the very first time, and her politics was closely tied to her religion. Looking back, I see how traditional but unformed the idea of God and country was in our household; but I learned it was "what good Christian Americans or American Christians were supposed to be doing." Other than that, I never saw or heard of my mother praying unless someone else was doing the praying and she was doing the respectful task of keeping her head bowed and her eyes closed.

My father passed in 2009. When the pastor asked if he could read my father's favorite verse at his service, Mom waffled a bit and said, "Psalm 23." It wasn't his favorite, but it was the one place in Mom's Bible that saw the most activity: the place where carnations got pressed after every funeral.

In 2018, my husband and I were in a season of grace, one miracle coming right after another. Mom had already lived with us for about three years, and we were caring for two small children under the age of five. We were exhausted, but alert to what God would do next. One Sunday, as we filled the church pew, our pastor gave an altar call. Anyone in need of prayer, come on up front. Mom, my mom, my mom who for years never went anywhere but the local convenience store by herself, my mom who ordered food she disliked simply because she didn't want to order anything different from what I was getting, my mom who encouraged me to always think for myself but never followed her own advice, in her state of mind, turned to me and with resignation said, Well, I guess I'd better go up. Chalk it up to dementia if you choose, but the season we were in...? I'm not overlooking any possibility. My mom saw the urgent need to leave our pew and by herself, approach the pastor for prayer. 

Because I cannot know what has taken place in another's heart, from that day forward, I trusted God had it all under control. I still trust Him. Early this year Mom and I began praying through Psalm 23 each night as I tucked her in. Family members lit a fire in me with regard to that psalm, and I personally began meditating on it once a week. I had disregarded that psalm for so long because of my disdain for Mom's sentimentality, and yet, the Holy Spirit was using it to strengthen the bond between Mom and I. God's methods of humbling us are not without irony. His message through David promises not only sweet rest and quiet waters, but it assures us of the faithfulness of One prepared to get dirty, to go to any lengths, to work until muscles ache and fingers are cracked, to lay down His life to bring His sheep Home.

This past week, a magazine I read daily focused on the 23rd Psalm; the article was written by a woman whose mother had passed. As I sat in Mom's room later that day, the television, tuned to a music channel, showed a beautiful pastoral scene with sheep grazing peacefully. The following morning, a friend in a group text sent out some silly clapping sheep. And on Thursday morning, as I was finishing my weekly meditation on Psalm 23 and preparing to start my day, I received word that Mom was with her Shepherd. This may be a season of grief, but I trust it is also a season of grace. And I rejoice in having had the privilege of sharing this part of the journey with her.

Are You Qualified to Minister?

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new. Now all things are of God, who has reconciled us to Himself through Jesus Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation, that is, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their trespasses to them, and has committed to us the word of reconciliation.

~ 2 Corinthians 5:17-19

For years I worked for a large corporation with a very large public image. It was important that representation be uniform, authentic, and according to standards set by the company's founders. There was a policy book and a dress code. There were regular inspections and strict criteria regarding employment. A position with the corporation was highly coveted and not easily procured. Not everyone who applied would be entrusted with representing and serving the company. Was this important business DOD blueprints or biological weaponry? Nope, I worked for a package delivery company. Teddy bears, window shades, documents, auto parts, slacks (Yes, they were slacks in those days) --that's what we delivered. And yet, the founders held the reputation of their enterprise in such high regard they made certain no delivery was too insignificant and no aspect of their service was a misrepresentation.

That's where the Holy Spirit took me when I was thinking of this passage in 2 Corinthians the other day. We are reconciled to God and our sin no longer separates us from a relationship with our Creator. Once we are made new in Christ, we are given the ministry of reconciliation. Just think about that for a minute. We are made new. Our relationship with God is restored. And that's it! Head on out and do your job. Bring others to Jesus. What kind of a business plan is that? You've got these people, wet behind the ears --or some of them have been in Christ for twenty years and they still have rough edges, they still struggle with relationships --and these are the people you hire for business development?

Look at Simon Peter --he wasn't always the Apostle Peter. This guy was rough! Even after spending three years side-by-side with Jesus, teaching, healing, feeding multitudes with less food many American families eat in at dinner --even after all of this, upon watching his Teacher and close Friend betrayed and beaten, heading to a cross, Peter curses Jesus. He curses to denigrate the holy and elevate the common. He curses to distance himself from sainthood and be at one with the world. Not exactly a shining moment for the ministry of reconciliation. Not exactly the guy you'd want on your billboard. But for God's grace... In John 21, we see the impassioned restoration of Peter. Reconciliation. And from that moment on, Peter is on fire!

You might think, if a business delivering sneakers and spatulas is so selective with regard to its agents and employees, God must want only the finest, most knowledgeable saints. God uses those He chooses and equips those He calls. We are imperfect long after we come to Jesus. We are human and tainted in our understanding; there are things just too large, just too deep for us to comprehend. We have differences and scars that can be impediments to loving others as Christ has loved us. We have many things clamoring for attention in a day that remains only twenty-four hours long. We have physical needs that sometimes go unmet. We are pathetic introverts and obnoxious extroverts; we are obsessive planners and reckless off-the-cuffers. We are just not close enough to who Jesus is to reflect Him completely and precisely. Nevertheless, we are given the task, we are employed by the Creator of the universe, we are commissioned by our Savior to introduce others to Him that they too, might be reconciled to God. We are His ambassadors. His Word and His Holy Spirit are the tools we are given to equip us for the assignment. We learn and we are changed as we spend more time working with these tools, but we will never wield them perfectly this side of Heaven. Will we misrepresent our King from time to time? Perhaps. Will we violate the dress code, putting on worry rather than arraying ourselves in trust? Perhaps. Will we violate policy with laziness rather than obeying with our whole heart? Perhaps. But know this, He who has called you to this work is faithful. We can do as He commands, we can be ministers of reconciliation because of His grace, given to us even in our weaknesses and limitations. He will get His glory, and we are unable to prevent that with our failures and foibles. What a gracious, magnanimous gift He has given us in allowing us to bring others to know Him! In allowing us to be the vessels through whom He brings others into His family! Represent Him well. Represent Him authentically. Represent Him according to the way He has called you and continues to equip you!

Photo courtesy LuAnn Martin

The Winds of Our Winters

We are approaching the barren winter months. But is it barrenness? or is there something going on beneath the cold, hard ground, something beautiful? Our lives can feel barren and wintry from time to time. This devotion, printed in Streams in the Desert on October 11, reminds us there is more to grey-brown landscapes than meets the eye.

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As dying and behold we live (2 Cor. 6:9).

I had a bed of asters last summer, that reached clear across my garden in the country. Oh, how gaily they bloomed. They were planted late. On the sides were yet fresh blossoming flowers, while the tops had gone to seed. Early frosts came, and I found one day that that long line of radiant beauty was seared, and I said, "Ah! the season is too much for them; they have perished"; and I bade them farewell.

I disliked to go and look at the bed, it looked so like a graveyard of flowers. But, four or five weeks ago one of my men called my attention to the fact that along the whole line of that bed there were asters coming up in the greatest abundance; and I looked, and behold, for every plant that I thought the winter had destroyed there were fifty plants that it had planted. What did those frosts and surly winds do?

They caught my flowers, they slew them, they cast them to the ground, they trod with snowy feet upon them, and they said, leaving their work, "This is the end of you." And the next spring there were for every root, fifty witnesses to rise up and say, "By death we live."

And as it is in the floral tribe, so it is in God's kingdom. By death came everlasting life. By crucifixion and the sepulchre came the throne and the palace of the Eternal God. By overthrow came victory.

Do not be afraid to suffer. Do not be afraid to be overthrown. It is by being cast down and not destroyed; it is by being shaken to pieces, and the pieces torn to shreds, that men become men of might, and that one a host; whereas men that yield to the appearance of things, and go with the world, have their quick blossoming, their momentary prosperity and then their end, which is an end forever.

--Beecher

A Priceless Work of Art in the Making

This is not the post I had scheduled for today. In fact, this is not even today. This is Saturday, October 21, 2023. As with any other day, I have no idea what this day will have looked like by the time its evening has come. By the time this goes to post, today will look very different to me than it does right now. What it looks like right now, is that Mom will very soon be Home. It looks sort of like the past two days have looked. In between the "regular" things life requires, we will be spending time next to her bed, quietly chatting in the room, consulting with professionals, taking what we believe are the appropriate measures, and walking Mom comfortably, respectfully, calmly to her front door.

For so long I have prayed that Mom would simply close her eyes to sleep, and in the morning, I would discover her empty frame. That might yet be, but not without this part of the journey, apparently. And this part is wrought with decisions, and unknowns, and memory dumps, and uncommon sounds and smells, and was being corrected to is, and endless calls and text messages, and equally as endless prayers, and all sorts of other things. As of this moment, I can't speculate as to why. Why couldn't she just "go gentle into that good night?" But the verse on which I was meditating this morning was this:

I will consider all your works

and meditate on your mighty deeds. ~ Psalm 77:12 (NIV)

The Message translation reads:

I'll ponder all the things you've accomplished

and give a long, loving look at your acts.

There are accomplishments: BIG picture. And then, there are acts, the "little things." For instance, the canceling of an event in the expectation of bad weather that never comes. Why? Well, Romans 8:28 assures that all things work together for good to those who love God, to His elect. So, the cancellation of a much-anticipated event is for our good. It's one of those "little things" God does or allows that make up a bigger picture; His deeds worked together, woven together to compose His masterpiece, like threads in a priceless tapestry. We say Rembrandt's Night Watch is a priceless work of art, a whole; but within that whole are smaller elements: lines, textures, colors. The work is a composite of deeds, acts, choices; but who celebrates a single brushstroke? Well, when you see what that brushstroke accomplishes, the way it reflects light and adds depth to the whole, it becomes easy to appreciate. 

But getting back to God and Psalm 77:12. He does things we can't or don't understand --like the cancelling of that event. "Little things." When we later hear of a terrible accident that occurred on the road we would have been traveling, we can fully understand and be grateful for God's intervention. BIG picture. However, do we have an attitude of gratitude before we understood the whole? The psalmist tells us we can dwell on all of God's acts and interventions, every small piece without fully experiencing or understanding the whole. And Paul, in Romans, backs that up with the assurance that everything is being collated and collaborated for the benefit of God's children.

Right now, I think I know what will transpire. I think I have a pretty good vantage point. I think that, as I see act after act, moment after moment, as we consider option after option and result after result, Mom is drawing closer to her front door; I can't know for sure at this point. But I can praise our God for every single brushstroke.

Update: Mom is not yet Home. As I mentioned, "I have no idea." But God does, and it is God in Whom I place my trust. I believe Mom has as well.