I Fix My Eyes on the Truth

One of our sons just got out of prison. What a joy to have him home—a sweet reunion. Trust restored, deep love is enjoyed again, a fresh start. We thank the LORD.

But Sunday night we received a call… another son is in jail. Too many unknowns… calls, visits and letters are monitored. Will we ever know the truth? Will we ever know the extent of all he’s lived through already at his young age?

The hopeless-looking aspects of his situation are large and in my face again. How do I look past them and fix my eyes on the Unseen? 2 Corinthians 4:18 (NIV) says “So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” I know God has given me this word to hang onto during this time in my life. It gives me hope, reminding me that there is much more here than I can now see. There is another realm, another kingdom that is fighting for my son’s life. And the kingdom of light is stronger than the kingdom of darkness.

So today I fix my eyes… over and over again, on the eyes of my Savior, Jesus Christ. I am desperate and He is my Hero. I relax into His warm, moist eyes that speak compassion, gentle kindness and understanding. He knows my heart. Even when I am numb and wonder why I don’t feel, He knows what’s buried down deep that hurts too much for me to let rise. He knows me. He holds my heart in His tender hands and I fix my eyes on the nail holes and remember what it cost Him to now hold my heart. I am safe with Him because He values me that much.

I fix my eyes on the truth that nothing is impossible with God, and that He has already broken the power of sin over my son, and bought him with His blood when He died on the cross for him.

I fix my eyes on the truth that Jesus came to seek and to save the lost and He will not be denied.

I fix my eyes on the truth that Jesus’ loving-kindness is leading my child to repentance.

Today, no matter what is happening in the natural I will fill my eyes with the solid rock of God’s Word and I will pray it over my son, declaring the supremacy of the kingdom of Light over the kingdom of darkness. Whenever the “seen” blocks my view I will pray that Jesus will show me what is behind it in the unseen realm. And I will pray into that.

And I will let myself rest, like a child held tightly in her daddy’s gaze, safe… because The Unseen wins.

 

Childbirth Class for Parents of Prodigals

When I think of “fixing my eyes” on something I remember childbirth classes. It was there that those of us who could no longer see our toes and who had no clue as to what lay before us, gathered excitedly to learn how to have a baby. There we were taught that the key to enduring the excruciating pain of labor and delivery was to relax and breathe while we fixed our eyes on a focal point.

Our instructor taught us to find something in the room that would receive our concentrated attention throughout each contraction. I found the clock on the wall. The strategy was that as soon as the contraction began I would concentrate all my effort on relaxed breathing, and fix my eyes on that clock, my focal point. I knew that if I lost focused connection the pain would be too much for me. I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Being the strong woman that I am, I soon found out that “not being able to handle it” meant I would resort to screaming uncontrollably. (I had such a shy, reserved personality that I always wondered if I would know how to scream if I was attacked. Yes, I know how.)

Meanwhile, while I obsessively focused my eyes on the clock, I also focused my ears on my husband’s voice telling me over and over again about the beach. “You’re lying on the shore, listening to the lulling of the waves, feeling the sunshine and the warm wind caressing your skin. You’re hearing the seagulls singing overhead and the children building sandcastles nearby.” He soon was putting everyone else in the room to sleep while I clutched onto his words like a lifeline.

Likewise, I have had times of agonizing pain as my children have struggled in their push toward independence. Such incomparably deep love for my child, and yet “Just get this baby out!” Much like contractions, I have experienced wave after wave of fear, guilt, anger, shame, grief, and sorrow.

I haven’t found a class on how to get through these contractions, but I have found a focal point that works better than a clock. 2 Corinthians 4:18 says “So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.”

My focal point is to be the unseen… what in the world does that mean? I believe it means I am to fix my eyes (use all my strength to aggressively think about, as if my life depended on it, because it does) on God—His nature, His promises, His Word, His Presence, His power, His angels all around me, His tender love for me and my children, and His redemption of our lives. If I let my eyes slip down and my ears stop listening to His voice, I can’t handle it. I then am left with resorting to plan B… “B” for becoming an emotional wreck.

As I read 2 Corinthians 4:18 today I was captured by the part that says “what is seen is temporary.” Temporary things are changeable. They are movable and flimsy. What I see right now in the natural can be changed through prayer. So I must learn to look right past it to what is unseen and eternal, and pray in what I see.   “Jesus, please keep speaking to me, like my husband telling me about the beach. Keep me focused on the Unseen.”

The Adventures of Faith and Hope, Siamese Twins

One day Faith and Hope (Siamese twins joined at the hip and each possessing only one leg) began a journey to the top of a mountain. The mountain was called “Loving a Child”. As they began the climb, they had seemingly endless energy, even though they got little sleep. They laughed and delighted in every step, rapidly falling in love with the mountain. Together they bent down to smell the flowers and stopped along the way to lay down in the grass. Gazing up into the clouds they dreamt of what it would be like to reach the top. These early days required strength and patience, but every night as they collapsed into sleep beneath the stars they continued to dream of each new treasure they would find as they progressed up the mountain.

But then it happened. One day Hope tripped and fell on a large, jagged rock that blocked her path. Her one leg was badly wounded. Of course, Faith toppled down with her and they both lost a lot of blood. Desperate, Faith turned to the LORD and cried out for help. “God, speak to me!” God sent forth His Word and she was strengthened. She stood upright and Hope rose with her. Together they continued on their journey, though now it was more painful. Walking with a limp, they realized (what they could not see before they fell) that this wild mountain was steep and rugged and they would need to keep their eyes fixed on Jesus as He led them. Otherwise, as they limped, their path would take them in circles.

As Hope and Faith continued their ascent, Hope’s knee occasionally buckled, pulling them both down again. But they had learned that they could rise quickly if Faith took the lead and cried out to Jesus to lift them back up. Every time this happened, He was faithful to speak the Word they needed to hear that would simultaneously give Faith strength to rise and Hope courage to follow.

One day as they stopped beside a river to drink and rest, they looked and saw how far they’d come. They even saw several dangerous cliffs that they had never even realized were there, slightly off to the side of their path. From where they rested, they could see other Siamese twins coming behind them, also limping. Hope and Faith called out to them, “Keep going! We’re almost there! Jesus is leading you safely! Just keep following Him!”

And then, with the top of the mountain still hidden behind the clouds, Faith and Hope lifted their eyes upward. They searched for the face of Jesus until they were locked in, and continued on…one limping step at a time, but much stronger now than they ever were at the start of their journey.

 

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love.” 1 Corinthians 13:13(NIV)

My Best Friend

The Comforter

Quietly I sit before Him

Quite alone.

Raw… open wounds.

 

The breeze is still,

 

The air silent.

I wait for Him to come.

 

Opening the Word

 

The leaves begin to flutter.

 

A gentle wind caresses my face.

 

There He is.

 

“And I will ask the Father, and He will give you another Comforter

(Counselor, Helper, Intercessor, Advocate, Strengthener, and Standby),

 

that He may remain with you forever—”

 

John 14:16 (AMP)

 

There are some things in life that we will walk through alone. We may have close, faithful friends, but no one who’s been down this path before. The Holy Spirit has become my best friend, because He’s actually walking this path with me, every step. I don’t really even know His name yet. And I can’t find any more words to put in that poem, because our time together is in the secret place (Psalm 91:1) where words can’t describe— I guess that’s why it’s called the secret place. But when I enter that secret place nothing else matters anymore. I find peace, and comfort, and joy. No matter what else I must do in my day, I have to jealously guard time to open the Word and sit alone with the Comforter. Otherwise, I’m a wreck.

 

The Only Baby Carrier Approved for Adult Children

When my first child was a baby, we owned a front pack, a backpack, a sling and even an African baby carrier that doubled as a dress somehow. Our firstborn spent much of the day moving between packs as I awkwardly tried to follow (at least for this only child) the parenting philosophy that stressed the importance of carrying a baby as much as possible.  I wore a bandana to keep my hair from being mercilessly pulled out while I did the dishes with him in the backpack. I read book after book as he often napped in my arms.  And (I can’t believe I actually did this) I walked through our neighborhood on hot sunny days carrying an umbrella over him in the front pack. Looking back now, it’s rather embarrassing. But I was so in love with this baby, and each successive child also. It was a joy to carry them. By baby number four my life was such a blur I would sometimes totally forget I was carrying him. I distinctly remember one Sunday walking around the church nursery searching for my child to pick up, only to finally realize that he was already there on my hip. I really could have used a vacation.

Anyway, eventually my children grew up. I can’t carry them anymore, even emotionally. Gone are the days when I could kiss away their owies, read them a story and tuck them safely into bed in their Winnie-the-pooh sleepers. And yet, I still try to carry them. I find myself going down the list in my mind, from neediest to most secure. “Are they okay? Are they safe? Do they need me for anything? Have I prayed for them enough?” If I feel they’re all fairly stable I relax, but stability doesn’t seem to happen very often. And so… I have to make myself let go. All that carrying definitely bonded me to them—like superglue. Letting go is not that easy.

When my kids were little, carrying them was a joy—it was fulfilling and something I could do. Now, as my children are grown, they are way too heavy for me to carry in any way, and when I try to carry them it actually feels like a burden. It’s too much for me. I’m not strong enough. I just can’t do it. When I realize this, and sit down and give up trying, I can collapse into fear, or… I can ask God to help me trust Him to carry my burdens.

Psalm 68:19 (NIV) says “Praise be to the Lord, to God our Savior, who daily bears our burdens.”  I think God wants us to be like children, who can skip carefree alongside their Daddy, as He carries the weight that is way too heavy for us. My mother-bear heart finds it really hard to release control of that burden to anyone else, even God. Why do I have such a hard time trusting Him? But I believe God’s Word is true. So, here goes—I’m closing my eyes and letting go.

Today I choose to trust God to carry my children. He is able and willing, and he actually really enjoys it, not only carrying my children, but watching me skip joyfully beside Him.

Father, please increase my faith to trust You more fully… because You are worthy.

 

Persisting in Prayer for Prodigals

“A Canaanite woman from that vicinity came to him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is suffering terribly from demon-possession.” Jesus did not answer a word. So his disciples came to him and urged him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.” Matthew 15:22, 23(NIV)

What do I do when Jesus does not answer? I keep praying. I don’t give up. I persist because I believe that Jesus is good, that He’s kind, and that He is moved by unfathomable compassion that churns within Him like a volcano and has to flow out in acts of mercy. Jesus cares. It is not His nature to turn such women, as in the above story, away. If He does not answer, it’s not that He’s ignoring me or not caring or not able. He is more than able. He can cast out any demon, heal any brain deficit, speak to the core of any lost soul and raise them from the dead. He is good. He is always totally good, spilling over with compassion and bursting with more power than I need. And so, if He does not answer, I keep asking because my persistence honors Him. It shows I believe He is who He says He is. I trust Him. I choose to reject anxiety and hopelessness, and I cling to Jesus’ generous love for me, love that cannot be contained—it has to give.

“The woman came and knelt before him. “Lord, help me!” she said… Then Jesus answered, “Woman, you have great faith! Your request is granted.” And her daughter was healed from that very hour.” Matthew 15:25, 28(NIV)

Today I choose to trust you LORD. I keep asking because You are my God and you love me and I believe You answer prayer.

Trusting God in My Mistakes

Years ago, with our cheerio-strewn minivan loaded with car seats, diapers, sippy cups, sleeping bags and five bouncing children, we attempted a vacation. A seven hour drive and numerous Odyssey episodes later, we arrived (with children still bouncing) at my father’s cabin, nestled deep in the wilderness of Michigan’s Upper Peninsula. Wanting to expend some of this infinite energy, our days consisted of hikes along beautiful rivers and rocky hills overlooking waterfalls. The way was wild, unprepared for tourists, often taking us close to dangerously steep banks… breathtaking beauty. As our kids followed us, stopping now and then to examine an animal track or some new flower or bug, we delighted to watch them. They, rather than the countless wonders around us, were the focus of nearly all our pictures. Skipping along, our children had freedom to run and play, but as we approached a dangerous area we either held tightly to their hands or carried them. They might stumble from time to time, but with a firm grip we’d quickly help them regain their balance. We were not about to let them fall.

Psalm 37:23, 24 says “If the LORD delights in a man’s way, he makes his steps firm; though he stumble, he will not fall, for the LORD upholds him with his hand.”

What makes the LORD delight in a man’s way? I believe the answer is similar to that memory I just wrote about. We delighted in our children’s way, first because they were our children, and second because they were following us, not sitting down and pouting, and not running in the opposite direction. When we become God’s child and choose to follow Jesus, He delights in our way. We can trust that He will make our steps firm, no matter how wobbly they may feel to us. We may venture off the path a little, but His strong hand will pull us back.

The rocky path of launching children into adulthood is way out of my league. I am prone to stumble as I face difficult decisions and questions that I don’t know how to answer. At the end of the day I wonder if I got it right or wrong. These verses comfort me. My Father is holding my hand firmly in His strong grip. He won’t let me fall. If I wobble and make a mistake, He will stabilize my steps so that I still get to where He is taking me.  He is taking me to places where I will see more of His breathtaking beauty than I ever would if our path led down a predictably smooth city sidewalk. And it is so much easier to entrust my children, with their mistakes, to the LORD if I’m not worrying about my own mistakes.