Category Archives: Learning from our past

My Psalm of Surrender

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God both gives and takes away.
Will I hold tight on take-away day?
I choose my plan instead of God’s;
It’s blessing-suicide, Christian fraud.

My thoughtful choice is often me,
Though Scripture details history
That tracks God’s ownership of all,
Unbridled power at his call.

Stubborn, prideful, dare I be?
It’s filthy sin. God would agree.
So what’s to do? Is there no hope?
I’m at the end of my frayed rope.

The only plan that yields success
And promises to clean this mess
Is stopping short and kneeling down,
Before my own sin makes me drown.

I crumble, cry and want just him.
I get it now. My mind’s not dim.
He gives and takes for just one purpose,
For our good, and not to hurt us.

Life on earth is one big test,
Losses, gains, my sins confessed.
I long to learn to go God’s way,
To make no plans by what I say.

God’s every move is made with flare.
I’m awed and can’t do more than stare.
When I relinquish my control,
He puts his peace inside my soul.

“Oh Father, let me try again
To be your daughter, be your friend.
I want you to be pleased with me
But know that this can never be…

Until I take a step you’ll show
Without demanding that I know
The total trip and where it’s going.
It’s yours alone to do that showing.

Remind me often, awesome Lord,
That you’re in charge. And I’ll lean toward
That one small step you let me see.
I give back all that you gave me.

My stress, my angst, my fear – they’re yours.
Please take those, too. My heart just soars,
As eagerly I wait and look
For signs of you. I’ll read your book.

I offer up this psalm today
And want to try to walk your way,
Surrendering my plans, my ways,
And walking your path all my days.

The Journal: Working at Worry

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A year ago, as Nate’s back pain escalated but before we learned that his greater problem was deadly cancer, I was distraught with worry. During the night, questions overwhelmed me:

1.  Will the back surgery help?

2.  How long will the benefit last?

3.  Will he be able to keep working?

4.  How many surgeries will there be?

5.  And at the end of the surgeries, what will life be like for Nate?

6.  How much pain?

7.  Will he end up in a wheelchair?

8.  Should I go job-hunting?

9.  Will we have to move again?

Questions swirled like gathering clouds along Tornado Alley, ruining many a night’s sleep. When morning came, Nate would pursue the same routine he’d functioned in for 37 years, getting ready for work and climbing on a commuter train to get there. But what had been automatic gradually became a white-knuckle effort motivated only by his strong sense of duty. As we paced through the September days leading to the discovery of his cancer, Nate’s work days grew shorter, yet he remained resolute. “I’ve just got to work,” he said one morning when his pain was especially high. “It’s my job to provide.”

Deep down I believe he knew that if he quit, if he stepped away from the fast-paced working mentality of his Chicago routine, his pain would expand to fill the void. As much as he was looking forward to retirement, “going to work” was what he did best.

As for me, my spirits lifted when I knew he was able to work, because it meant his pain was manageable that day. It meant he could still fight the good fight. But what about my torment of worry during the wee-hours? What could be done about that?

Gradually both of us had made things worse, Nate by over-working his debilitated body and me by letting anxiety dominate. As Nate’s suffering had increased, we’d fallen for the lie that he and I were in charge, a ludicrous notion. The only thing I could think to do was to pray Scripture verses over our situation and over Nate. It would bring help to him and would remind me to “cast my cares on God.” (1 Peter 5:7)

I wrote the verses in my journal and prayed them through with pen and ink, hopeful God would intervene dramatically in Nate’s life and by that, in mine. Today, from the vantage point of one year later, I studied these same verses prayed a year ago in desperation and am utterly stricken by how God took the words literally and answered each prayer in a spectacular way.

From the journal:

“Cause Nate to wait on you, Lord. Renew his strength so he’ll be able to rise above the pain, to mount up with wings like an eagle. May he run in your strength rather than his own, escaping weariness, walking through this trial without fainting.” (Isaiah 40:31)

“May Nate quickly come to you, Lord, because he is laboring under heavy burdens. May he find the rest you’re offering.” (Matthew 11:28)

“Please protect Nate from all harm. Protect his soul from evil.” (Psalm 121:7)

“Please give Nate hope for a positive future, even a new beginning. Until then, give him courage.” (Psalm 31:24)

And according to these verses and many others, God did every bit of it with excellence….especially the part about Nate’s new beginning.

Daft on Rafts

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Waves, rafts and kids… a formula for fun. Today the girls celebrated Birgitta’s last vacation day before college by romping in heady Lake Michigan surf. Their laughter rose above the crash of the waves, and I had as much fun watching them as they had playing.

Churning white water presents three options: over, under or through. Leaping to jump or dive over a wave is a delight, offering a smooth ride down. Ducking under to let the turmoil of a breaking wave roll above you is especially good if you open your eyes and watch it pass.

But choosing to go through a wave, experiencing the full power of underwater chaos, is spectacular. Knowing you’ll come out the other side lets you submit with abandon.

Lake Michigan waves, admittedly friendlier than their bigger ocean counterparts, develop in the same way as the giant cousins. A new weather system bringing wind begins to stir calm water into a chop, which is followed by larger breakers. Bigger winds? Bigger waves.

Because of weather’s ongoing changes, we’re never sure when to pack the rafts for a day at the beach. But the rustling of trees along with a distant roar lets us know.

Like the continual change on the water’s surface, our family is adjusting to changes, too. The biggest one has been getting used to Nate’s absence. Ten of us have been working hard to calm our emotional waters over the past nine months. In many day-to-day ways also, a measure of chaos similar to white water has risen up and overwhelmed, just as big waves break over a swimmer on a raft.

Since last November, the “weather” of grief has shifted often, sometimes leaving us to tread water without a raft at all, which is exhausting. We’ve all felt like the next storm might swamp us completely, should it arrive too soon. But here we are, still afloat, making gradual progress through the waves.

Now we’re beginning to experience fresh winds of family change. Birgitta will become a first time university student. Nelson will return after circling the globe since last January while leading a YWAM group. Louisa will begin an intensive nine month Bible school, and Jack and I will regroup in an empty nest. Waves may develop, or there may be calm water ahead. It’s too soon to get the weather report.

But we aren’t alone in this. Everyone experiences change, and much of it involves waves. Waves of grief, waves of pressure, waves of work, waves of obstacles, waves of decisions.

Forty years ago we sang along with a Top 40 hit whose chorus went like this:

  • Put your hand in the hand of the man who stilled the waters.
  • Put your hand in the hand of the man who calmed the sea.

It was good counsel then and is still good now. The mental picture of God’s big, sure grip on each of us as we toss about in the waves of change should remind us he’s pulling us through toward quieter waters.

As a matter of fact, God has plans to one day pull everybody out of the water completely. We’ll be done with going over, under or through any more waves of change. And when that happens, we can deflate our rafts for good.

“He leads me beside still waters.” (Psalm 23:2b)