An Empty Beggar's Bowl

I'm sitting here looking at an empty bowl on my table. I put it there to remind me that I'm a beggar. I am nothing except for the grace of Christ. As a monk takes his bowl into the community and receives from gracious hands his portion for the day, I hold my bowl heavenward to receive from the Lord my portion for the day. And usually, it is enough.

Not today. There are too many people hurting, dealing with grief, struggling to hear hope, dying senseless deaths, sitting by hospital beds watching their young child barely breathing. Doctors' reports are grim. My heart feels heavy. So tonight, as I intercede for several friends in need, I find myself begging God for more. To say more. To do more. To heal more.

Josh Hunter's five year old daughter Ava lies speechless and barely breathing in a hospital bed in Orlando. In late June, doctors removed from her brain a tangerine sized tumor. He writes nearly daily to keep things sorted out and to update the thousands of visitors who now frequent his blog. Thousands.

What draws us? I don't know Josh personally, though I do know his parents, and we have mutual friends. But many who leave notes and pray for this family have no association but to be a part of the "holy catholic church."

I can only conclude that, if you're like me, we long to see God. To be present as He reveals Himself to and through a little girl just like ours. A dad just like us. A wife. A family. A community. We wait for the miracle that will astound the world. And marvel at the everyday miracle of those barely-there breaths. We grimace at the uncertainty of life, but we can't. take. our. eyes. off of Ava.

She helps us see that maybe God isn't as far away as He sometimes seems. And she reminds us that we don't need God to do more. We need to see Him more in what He is already doing.

In Ava's weakened state, the glory of God sits very near. I see Him. In the vulnerable words of her father, the tired shoulders of her mother held in the loving arms of a friend. In a family hurting together, walking beside each other on good days and bad. In a community praying, supporting, serving, even holding vigil for healing. Hope lights the darkened hallways of that hospital.

Life flows in and among and around and through this little girl and her family. A family who reaches heavenward, bowls in hand, to receive from the Lord His portion for the day. And trusts His grace to be enough.

Then Jesus declared, "I am the bread of life. He who comes to me will never go hungry, and he who believes in me will never be thirsty." John 6:35


If you'd like to read more about Ava or pray with her family, visit her dad, the Daily Philosopher, at his blog.

Birthday Celebration

Another birthday passes, and I celebrate. . . .

A few more wrinkles. A few more gray hairs. A lot more life. Settling into my skin, I recognize the effects of time. Time with new friends. Time alone. Time spent waiting. Learning to love. Being loved. Emerging. Stronger than before. Resilient. Compassionate. Radiant. Real.

Another birthday passes, and I celebrate. . . .

Discovery of Truth. Beauty unveiled. A rising up. A discerning spirit. A yielded heart. Grace eases in. The coming season borrows from the past only that worth taking forward. The joys. The sorrows. The breath. Hope renewed. Life revealed. Trusting. Leaning. Even leaping.

Another birthday passes, and I celebrate. . . . 

A woman in love. Intimate. Secure. Known. 

Faith and Falling

A couple of you asked where to read the writings of Leigh McLeroy. I'm reading her book, The Beautiful Ache: Finding the God Who Satisfies When Life Does Not. http://www.amazon.com/Beautiful-Ache-Finding-Satisfies-When/dp/0800731417

Last week I read a chapter called FAITH AND FALLING, The Ache of Trusting. After describing some wild leaps of faith that included skydiving, Leigh went on to use the example of Mary, which left me pondering. "Mary faithfully received the words of the angel and just as trustingly received 'the Word implanted' that was able to save her soul and mine. And her one sustained 'yes' brought his sweet kingdom closer than it had ever been before. Trusting does that every time."

She goes on to say, "If Mary had doubted that God meant to do good both to and through her, she might not have answered as she did. But she didn't trust the plan—she trusted the One who made the plan. She couldn't see the future, but with her eyes of faith she could see the One who shaped it. Her steadfast assurance of God's love compelled her to relinquish control of her very body to a preposterous idea, but God opened her heart long before he invaded her womb. She confessed her frailty and admitted that she was the recipient of power ('May it be done to me . . . ') but not its source. She took the free fall of faith because she was already a woman in love."

The words flow from my fingertips as tears flow down my cheeks, even now. Such power in this writer's language to represent our own. Speaking directly to us, she concludes: "If God has placed you in a moment that requires trust—or the long sustaining of it—he has brought you to a place of great intimacy and possibility. Trust is for lovers, not for strangers. So instead of asking 'Do I dare?' why not ask instead, 'Am I loved?' If the answer is yes, then trust is the only reasonable response."

"Trust is for lovers, not for strangers." Wow. I hadn't thought of it that way, really. Have you? Being placed in a position where we have to trust the Lover of Our Soul, whether in finances, friendships, or the future, CONFIRMS our relationship with Him; it doesn't challenge it. Are you feeling the release of that? I pray so.

My Protector - He's at it again!

The pesky noises plaguing my car for the past several months finally culminated in a grind-grind-clunk double-twist combo last weekend. The effect, as I flipped the first U-ie to park in front of the house, sent percussive breaths shooting from my lungs. A second U-ie confirmed the clunk and drained every bit of confidence I had taken away after the previous week's oil change. "There's nothing to worry about," the garage manager assured me. "We heard nothing out of place."

But there I was — out of place and out of sorts. 

So I pulled up to the curb, cranked back the brake, and sat. The opposing silence created plenty of space for me to consider an appropriate response. I considered some more — and, yes, cried just a little — before emerging to inspect the street for any clunky, fallen engine parts. When I found nothing, I simply walked into the house, put away my groceries, and went on with my much-anticipated, quiet evening. What else could I do on a Saturday night? 

Funny, isn't it, how ignoring a half ton, broken down vehicle can make it disappear — or at least sit, undistinguished, in the background. 

After more than two days of denial passed, I finally braved the drive back to the garage. A quick turn of the ignition sobered the manager's otherwise cheery outlook. "This isn't good," he uttered, his head turning my direction from under the hood. Hmmm . . . not a pleasant way to begin a conversation. It turns out that a pulley broke clean off from the crank shaft, leaving the belt to waggle and the gadgets to sputter! 

I sputtered too. My bank account cannot afford such nonsense! The manager, seeing and feeling my pain, began to call associates to track down parts, ahead of giving me a preliminary estimate. The result? Around $340. With screaming out of the question, I went about the business of fussing, trying desperately to anticipate whether I should take the car home, borrow a friend's car, and leave the cash in my account for "such time as it would be needed for something more important." In my old manner, I wanted to see what only God can see: the future!

A couple of phone calls later, and a reminder from the manager that my car wasn't driveable, I indicated the go-ahead with a less than enthusiastic thumbs up. "Take care of what's in front of you," I kept telling myself. "Worry about what's to come when it comes." Easy to say, but walking the way seemed beyond my ability. . . . 

And, that's when I began to recognize the long armed anticipation of the One who promises to Protect. It hit me smack dab in the middle of my mess. In a few weeks, I'll be driving across the state to teach at the Florida Christian Writer's Conference. Not a terribly long drive, but what if that pulley had held on, lulling me into a false sense of security until — BAM! It snapped somewhere along I-4, sending me to a spinning, grinding halt with no immediate resources, suspended between Florida coasts?

What if . . . 

Those words haunt me at times, do they you? They leave me suspended — not between Florida coasts, but between heaven and earth. Between lies and Truth. The lie? I'm responsible to provide for every aspect of my life on earth.  And money's often the root of my fear for provision. In my singleness, I've tended toward self-sufficiency. Not asking for help — at times not even knowing I have need, and certainly not being able to name the need so that I know what to ask for (hint: that's called denial, ya know!).

So, yay for me that I called my friend's husband to talk over my dilemma with a fellow talker — because I know I will drive myself crazy trying to internalize an answer. And then — I let him come and pick me up! I knew that something in me had shifted when I responded to a "how ARE you?" question with "God protected me today. That pulley could have broken off any time, anywhere, and left me stranded." But I have a Protector whose unfailing love I can trust — and His timing is perfect. And since, out of that perfect love, He provides for my needs today, I can trust Him to provide for the needs that arise tomorrow — when tomorrow comes.

In your strength I can crush an army; with my God I can scale any wall. God’s way is perfect. All the Lord’s promises prove true. He is a shield for all who look to him for protection. For who is God except the Lord?
Who but our God is a solid rock?  Psalm 18:29-31 NLT