Fearfully & Wonderfully Made

This afternoon as I was taking a patient's blood pressure, our conversation went something like this:

"I have such nice, slender arms, don't I?"

"Of course", I replied. "

She smiled. "Your arms are much fatter than mine. They're toned though, so it's not too bad, but mine are still smaller."

As I walked down the hallway towards the nursing station, I briefly glanced down at my arms and wondered, "Do I look fat?"

The comparison game. We have all played it at some time or another, some of us more than others, but I would dare to predict that each one of us would admit that at least once during our lifetime, we have measured ourselves by someone else's measuring tape. The remarkable thing about this particular conversation is that my patient was well past ninety years of age and diagnosed with dementia. Yet, even at this stage of life and in this frame of mind, the need to compare herself with another has persisted. I find this fascinating, but also a little bit sad and a little bit disturbing.

I have a mirror that hangs on a wall in my bedroom (except for the first day I hung it on the wall and it came crashing to the floor at 5am and I realized I should never attempt anything handyman-related but should always call my dad). I am compelled to look into it every day. "Mirror, mirror on the wall, show me each and every flaw". It faithfully tells me my nose is too big, my mouth is too small, my ears are too crooked, my skin is too oily, my pores are too big, my eyelashes are too short, my body is too chubby and no wonder I can't find anyone to marry me because I am just that ugly. Those of you who know me are likely shocked that I would have such a mirror and surely it must be a mistake. I would go as far to suggest that no one has observed any of these characteristics that I so ashamedly display on a daily basis. Yet they must be real because my mirror tells me so. After all, the mirror doesn't lie. Or does it?

A very long time ago, in a far away place, there grew a garden. In that garden perfection dwelt. The perfect man. The perfect woman. Perfect beauty. Perfect relationship with a perfect Creator. You all know the story of how shame entered the human race. What you may have never realized is that something else happened on that day. (Don't make me quote a Biblical reference for this!) All the mirrors from that day forth were affected in such a way that when one gazed upon its reflection, instead of portraying what really was, it took into account every hurtful word, every criticism, every negative thought, every abusive act, every lie that taunted 'you're not enough' and so created a filter that essentially removed all that was beautiful and good. As if this wasn't tragic enough, it also created such a lure, a desire so compelling, to keep looking into that reflection, so that every time the created one passed by the mirror, she couldn't help but pause, if only for a moment, just to be reminded one more time, that she was not enough.

It is a very good thing that the story does not end here. There is a way to break the curse of the enchanted mirror. Heaven knew that many thousands of years later, beautiful creation would still be under it's evil spell. These words were penned...

"For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise You because I am fearfully* and wonderfully** made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well...the king is enthralled by your beauty. All glorious is the princess within her chamber; her gown is interwoven with gold. In embroidered garments she is led to the king." (Psalm 139&45)

Every time these words are spoken in the face of the mirror's reflection, every time she allows these words to penetrate her spirit, truth begins to destroy the cursed filter and one day she wakes up to discover a true reflection of beauty and worth.

The King of Heaven finds you magnificently beautiful. You take His breath away. He pauses to look at you before you awaken, whispering words of love into your ear. His gaze follows you all day long until the moon hits your face as your eyes close in sleep. The angels are jealous because the Creator has eyes only for His bride, His created one, His chosen delight. His great desire is that the spell would be broken and you would see yourself through His eyes. Beautiful.

* full of awe or reverence

** awesome, wondrous, miraculous, astonishing, amazing, astounding, phenomenal, extremely fine, excellent

The Exchange

The young women will dance for joy...I will turn their mourning into joy. I will comfort them and exchange their sorrow for rejoicing.

Jeremiah 31:13

Jeremiah declared joy over Israel before it was seen in the physical realm. The reality of the matter was that Israel was in ruins. There was weeping. There was barrenness. There was sorrow. There were broken dreams and broken hearts on every side. Nowhere could joy be found. But Jeremiah had a dream. God spoke of restoration, of favour, of dancing, of joy. But where could it be in the middle of all that was broken? There was nothing to sing about. There was nothing to dance about. All that could be seen surely called for weeping.

Then all of a sudden there is a pause, right in the middle of declaring the promise of 'one day', there was something required on this day before 'one day' ever came to be. In spite of the desire to weep, yes, even before there is a reason to dance, sing with joy, shout, make your praises heard.

I have a promise from the Lord. And so I dance.

The Ultimate Fighting Challenge

It was the time of year when kings went out to war. The year was 870 BC. The king was Jehoshaphat, King of Judah and the attack came from the land of Edom. After King Jehoshaphat proclaimed a fast in all of Judah and inquired of the Lord, this is what happened next:

Then the Spirit of the Lord came upon Jahaziel...as he stood in the assembly. He said: "Listen, King Jehoshaphat and all who live in Judah and Jerusalem! This is what the Lord says to you: 'Do not be afraid or discouraged because of this vast army. For the battle is not yours, but God's. Tomorrow march down against them...you will find them at the end of the gorge in the Desert of Jeruel. You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you, O Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you.' " Jehoshaphat bowed with his face to the ground, and all the people of Judah and Jerusalem fell down in worship before the Lord...Early in the morning they left for the Desert of Tekoa. As they set out, Jehoshaphat stood and said, "Listen to me, Judah and people of Jerusalem! Have faith in the Lord your God and you will be upheld; have faith in his prophets and you will be successful." ...Jehoshaphat appointed men to sing to the Lord and to praise Him for the splendor of His holiness as they went out at the head of the army, saying: "Give thanks to the Lord, for His love endures forever." As they began to sing and praise, the Lord set ambushes against the men...who were invading Judah, and they were defeated. [2 Chronicles 20:14-22]

I find it personally significant that this battle was won in the desert. The desert can represent different things for different people. For me, desert means the place of drought, lack, brokenness - broken dreams, broken promises, broken hearts. It is the place where it seems as though God has turned His face away. (Notice I said 'seems', for God cannot desert his kids as it goes against His very nature.) It is the place where you don't wish to set up camp. You want to get out of there as quickly as possible, yet it seems as though it represents such a large portion of the journey.

In this desert is where the people of Judah find themselves. They are given one task: worship. What? In this awful place? Here where there is a godless army ready to annihilate an entire nation? Here where the dust clings to one's throat? Here where there is unbearable thirst? Here where nothing grows? Here where all is barren? Yes, here. Here is where I believe purest worship is found. It is not intended for human ears. Worship sends it song into the spiritual realm, where the real battle is staged. The war to take back stolen dreams, to see the fulfillment of long-awaited promises, to see prophetic words established, to receive restoration for locust-infested years, bringing barrenness to its fateful end.

Sometimes I find myself in a place where nothing I can do in the natural will change the situation. No amount of scheming, working, financing or strategizing will prove effective. This is the place where only one thing is required: worship. It is in this place that the King of Heaven fights on your behalf. Victory is imminent.

RE: The God Who Sees Me

I have had this story in my head and half written for a few months now. The phrase, "The God Who Sees Me" has been echoing over and over again in my spirit. When I write these stories, it is a fictional representation based on historical reference but also includes some of my own feelings and struggles. I never get tired of reading the timeless stories found in the Bible. His Word is truly living and so very relevant. When I read the story of Hagar back in March, I couldn't help but feel the emotion behind the story in Genesis 16. I began wondering where Hagar came from, what she had dreamed of when she was a young girl and how her current situation probably looked nothing like her dream. Sound familiar? It sure does to me. I ran into a friend the other day at a shop. We had not seen each other for some time and I joked that I was currently working on Plan F. I do that. I cover what I am really feeling with humour. My doctor called me on it a couple of weeks ago when she reminded me of my age and the ever-decreasing chances of having children, but that's a whole other story...

So many of us formulate the perfect plan, the amazing dream for our lives, only to grow up to be an adult and realize that the dream seems impossible and that the reality of life in this fallen world crushes and steals so many of our dreams. I am currently walking through such a desert place where it appears useless to hold onto those things I dreamed of. I find myself thinking negatively about the future and have allowed some of those thoughts to surface in spoken form, for it seems I could not be living further from what I always dreamed of.

In the middle of all of this, God keeps whispering, "I am the God who sees you." Right now, all I can do is hold on to those words. I am not forgotten.

The God Who Sees Me

As she sat in the unrelenting heat of the desert sun, the ubiquitous dust mixed with salty tears that dared to spill, forming muddy tracks down her sunburned cheeks. "What is this place?", she wondered. She had not passed this way before. A stranger. Just like her name. Hagar. As much as she felt she was not born for this place, this wilderness, she was just as much an unwelcome stranger in the place from which she now fled. Abused. Unloved. Unwanted. She laughed in contempt at the very spot she now found herself. At a spring in the desert. Her thirst was unbearable, yet the one thing that would bring relief was also the one thing that would keep her alive - except to be alive was a curse. As she sat there, her thoughts travelled back to a much earlier time. So long ago that its memory seemed only a dream that faded with the dawn of the morning. Was that life real? Did I belong somewhere? Was there a time when I was called by a different name? Sometimes she thought she could smell the spices of Egypt or hear the laughter of her brothers and sisters. She imagined that her daddy was tall and handsome and her mother the most beautiful woman this side of the Nile. She looked into the pool of water and studied her face, the shape of her mouth, the colour of her eyes. Did she look like them? A stubborn teardrop fell, shattering the image in the pool. Hagar. Stranger. The only name she remembered. That, she knew, was very real.

Eventually, she found herself in the tents of Abram and Sarai. A servant. Servant sounded so much better than slave. She took some comfort in the fact that her masters feared God. Surely no harm would come to her. Then one day the unthinkable happened. She was given to her master to bear a child to carry on his name. And to think it was Sarai's idea. What was she thinking! Nothing good could come of this. Of that she was certain.

It did not take long to realize there was life growing inside of her. She had dreamed of this day since she was a young girl. As she lay in her tent a sarcastic laugh escaped her lips, for this was nothing like the dream. Wedding garments, a loving husband, happiness and a place to call home. All this replaced with rags, loneliness and shame. Alone. Would the ache in her heart ever go away? Was there hope enough for her? No. Hope taunted. Hope laughed at her pain. Hope disappointed. To have no hope was far more tolerable. You cannot be disappointed by that which you have not hoped for. Yes, hope was her enemy. And so bitterness took its root within her heart. Bitterness set her on the journey to this desert place. Bitterness kept her heart from aching. She would never feel again. No more tears. No more emotions. It was easier this way. This was survival. Which brought her back to the pool before her. To drink or not to drink. To choose life or death? She lay down beside the spring, too tired from the journey to make a decision just yet. Her heart was just too weary, too broken.

She must have fallen asleep, for the sun, now low in the sky, was not so fierce. All of a sudden her senses were sharpened. A very slight, cool breeze passed by her face, carrying with it a beautiful fragrance. She looked around for the source. Surely nothing could grow in this place. There it was again. Maybe the sun had just been too much for her that day. But no, for a third time she sensed it. She sat up and turned her face toward the sound of a gentle whisper. She found herself in the presence of the Almighty One. How is it that Yahweh would visit her, would take notice of her, the forgotten one? She proceeded to kneel, face down in the dust, for who could stand and look into His face and live? But no, He lifted her face toward Himself and spoke these words, "I AM the lifter of your head. Your face will no longer be bowed low. No more shame for I will tell you who you are meant to be. I have seen you in this desert place and I have caught each one of your tears. I have felt the hunger and aching in your heart. I have understood the longing for the dreams that you once dared to dream but have now been long forgotten. I have heard your crying when you thought no one was listening. You are not forgotten. You are most precious to Me. I will strengthen you for this journey. It is too much for you but it is not too much for Me. I will carry you the rest of the way through this desert and you will live again."

Hagar arose from the dust, took a long drink from the most refreshing spring and started on the path that would take her out of the desert place. "I will continue this journey for the sake of the God who sees me."

Healing

The phrase Mourning into Dancing came to me more than ten years ago at what must have been the lowest point in my life. I was completely broken, my whole world had just blown apart. It has been the phrase that signifies God's promise to me: I will heal. I will restore. I will bring joy. I will replace those tears with laughter once again. Through this healing process, I have had the opportunity to learn more of who God is and also more about who I am.

So many times I have been tempted to place all of my focus on 'me'. My pain. My struggle. My healing. While I believe there is a time for focusing inward and working on the issues, I am convinced that healing comes in greater measure when we look beyond ourselves.

Listen to the words of Isaiah 58:
6 Is not this the kind of fasting I have chosen: to loose the chains of injustice and untie the cords of the yoke, to set the oppressed free and break every yoke?7 Is it not to share your food with the hungry and to provide the poor wanderer with shelter - when you see the naked, to clothe him, and not turn away from your own flesh and blood?8 Then your light will break forth like the dawn, and your healing will quickly appear; then your righteousness will go before you, and the glory of the LORD will be your rear guard.9 Then you will call, and the LORD will answer; you will cry for help, and He will say: Here am I. "If you do away with the yoke of oppression, with the pointing finger and malicious talk,10 and if you spend yourselves in behalf of the hungry and satisfy the needs of the oppressed, then your light will rise in the darkness, and your night will become like the noonday.11 The LORD will guide you always; He will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame. You will be like a well-watered garden, like a spring whose waters never fail.

YOUR HEALING WILL QUICKLY APPEAR.

This is why on this blog you sometimes find stories that go beyond myself. Stories of the poor, the widow and the orphan - places I've found myself over the years, looking past my own brokenness and standing in the middle of someone else's pain. This is where my heart is. Positioned in the midst of broken humanity - whether it is in a developing country or downtown. My prayer is that in the middle of life's busy-ness, God will arrest my attention to see the world around me through His eyes.

My 40 Widows

My beautiful grandma now dancing with Jesus

At the end of 2007 I found myself in a place I never wanted to return to: working in a personal care home. I went from working with high school students in developing countries to working with a unit full of seniors. Really old ones! I was feeling quite sorry for myself. (I still have a few of those moments!) One day as I found myself lamenting, yes even complaining, to God over this 'horrible situation' I now found myself in, I reminded Him of James 1:27 - Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress and to keep oneself from being polluted by the world.

I was all for looking after orphans and widows in the normal places where you would find orphans and widows. I know that one day I will find myself rescuing orphans. However, I failed to see the truth of the matter. In this season, God has entrusted me with forty of His precious widows right here in Canada. These are truly forgotten ones. Many of them have no family and are completely alone in the world. Many more have family who for one reason or another choose not to visit them. They cry out for the son or daughter who never comes.

What is my assignment? To place respect, honour and dignity upon each and every one them. To advocate on their behalf when they have no voice. To protect them from harm. To hold their hands when they are afraid or lonely. To laugh with them. To cry with them. To make sure they are not alone when life on earth comes to an end. To give them what may be their one last chance to know Jesus. In the everyday reality of it all, it's often frustrating and seemingly thankless. Dementia steals their personality and sometimes you have to look really hard to see the person that used to be. Pain - physical or emotional - can make them lash out and all of a sudden they are labelled as 'difficult'. Some days I feel like nothing more than a medicine dispenser. Most of my day is filled with the mundane - pills, pills and more pills, pureed food, spills on the floor, the same questions over and over again and the never-ending pile of paperwork.

In this season may I never take my God-assignment lightly. May I bestow dignity and honour on those society has hidden away and forgotten about. May I look beyond the mundane to see that which is sacred.