JAS's 23rd

God is my companion, I am not alone.
He gives me a secure place to rest,
He leads me into quiet.

He renews my hope.
He gives me a desire to be like Him, to reflect His heart.

Even though the way is confusing and dark,
I will trust Your goodness
for You ARE with me;
Your love and Your word comfort me.

You turn difficulty and trial into bread for me.
You turn my face toward You.

I am overwhelmed.

Surely You will pursue me all my days,
and I will finally live with You,
in Your home,
forever.

Choices

We make them everyday. Choices. Some with much deliberation, some instinctively. But they, along with events, are the loom upon which the threads of our lives are woven.

Choices.

Friday I made a simple choice. I chose to ignore my impulse to critically assess, moment by moment, my Dear Professor's driving skills as he navigated our way through the confusing mass of roads that comprise Pittsburgh toward an early morning appointment. Instead of adding to his stress (and mine), I closed my eyes and listened to the music on my mp3 player, abandoning all outcomes to the control of a greater Navigator than either of us.

The familiar lyrics vibrated into the depths of my heart with new meaning:

"When you love you walk on the water
Just don't stumble on the waves
We all want to go there somethin' awful
But to stand there it takes some grace
'Cause oh, we are not as strong
As we think we are" We are Not as Strong as We Think We Are by Rich Mullins

"We all want to go there somethin' awful, but to stand there it takes some grace...we are not as strong as we think we are."

No, I am not as strong as I think I am, especially in light of the last year, my Dear Professor's health crisis last November and the long convalescence that continues.

It has worn both of us down. And denying it just makes the ordeal more difficult.

And then the next song began. I was transported back 30 years to our unfurnished living room in Houston. We had been married 3 years. My Dear Professor was a lawyer then, toiling in downtown canyons of steel and glass. Our firstborn was an infant in my arms. And I was dancing with him in wild, joyful abandonment, twirling around the room.

"Sing your praise to the Lord
Come on everybody
Stand up and sing one more hallelujah
Give your praise to the Lord
I can never tell you. Just how
much good that it's
Gonna do you" Sing Your Praise to the Lord by Rich Mullins

Gratitude formed in my heart and spilled out through my eyes to remember, to be present again with God and our son in those happy times, that moment of praise. I touched again a future filled with promise. I knew that promise was still with me behind the cloud of uncertainty that had become my life now.

Above the clouds the sun is always shining.

I touched hope. Somewhere along this road I had let that go. I picked it up again. I worshiped anew.

All because of a simple choice.

A simple choice that made all the difference in that day, and the days that have followed.

What have you chosen for this day?

Even in darkness

"Even in darkness



light



dawns



for the upright, for the gracious and compassionate and righteous man." Psalm 112:4

9/11

The numbers 9 and 1 have special significance to me. They can be arranged in many meaningful ways. I have called "911" for an ambulance on two occasions, once for my Dad and another time for my Dear Professor. Both frantic calls into the dark of night brought help for two special men in my life.

Psalm 91:1, from which this blog receives its name, is my favorite Psalm. It has lifted me, encouraged me, inspired me: "he that dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide in the shadow of the Almighty."

And then there is the date 9/11/01 that has stunned and grieved a generation of Americans.

As I reflect on all this, I wonder. Can it be that there are times when the protecting, comforting shadow of the Almighty is a very dark place? It certainly must have been that for Jesus, the very Son and heart of God, as he cried out alone on the cross, "why have You forsaken me?"



His words were echoed in the voice of a nation on that terrible day 9 years ago. They echo in the voices of those grieving today.

God understands grief far better than we. And he offers solace and hope.

In the darkness of His shadow.

In the secret place of the Most High.

The cross of Jesus Christ.

Speechless

 I don't know where to begin.

I think my idea of God has been too small.

I thought that admiring the stars in the night, or the endless blue and white sky that blows above my head by day, gave me a look at the immensity of my God.

I was wrong.

Those don't begin to tell the His story. They are merely microscopic wisps of His breath that breathed the Universe into being.

Mere wisps.

Watch this, all 5 videos, and we'll talk later.

How Great is Our God 1
How Great is Our God 2
How Great is Our God 3
How Great is Our God 4
How Great is Our God 5

Or, even better, go buy the DVD.

Right now, I am speechless.

Dandelions

They are both blessing and curse, those bright yellow flowers that bloom early in spring. In France they are the "dent de lion", lion tooth. Their green foliage, though bitter, offers an abundance of vitamins A, C, and K, much needed after winter's long, arduous journey.

They've been described as "a plant for which we once knew the use but we've forgotten it". Their deep tap roots break up soil and bring up nutrients more shallow rooted plants need.

But we see them as an obstacle in our efforts to maintain the uniformity of a well manicured lawn. After mowing, they stubbornly spring back up, and in their death send tiny seeds dancing on the wind to root and bloom again.

Faith is a way we all once knew, but have forgotten.

Faith is willing to stand alone and persevere for the Truth.

Faith is a tap root that breaks through the wall of pretense to the eternal reality beyond.

Faith draws water from the well of Life, offering freely to all who thirst.

Faith comforts the hopeless, and proclaims liberty to the captives.

Faith is a tiny, stubborn, yellow flower in a world that wants uniformity, wants its own way; a world that denies a loving Creator and despises any mention of the Cross. Or prayer.

"Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. 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." 2 Corinthians 4:16-18 (NIV)

Shadows

All shadows are not equal. The shade of a leafy canopy on a hot day brings relief.  Those of shapes projected on a wall bring delight.

But there are other shadows in the night, the darkness of evil that paralyzes with fear.

The shadow of the Most High dispels that fear.  "Even the darkness is light to Him." In the shadow of the Most High is safety, security, rest.  Psalm 91:1 has been a favorite verse of mine since a minister friend prayed it over us as we moved into our first home.

The shelter of the Almighty is home, like the warm, protective feathers of  a mother hen. Home. Warmth. Comfort.  A safe place. An abiding place.

More than anything else, my spiritual journey has been about learning to abide . . .in the shelter of the Almighty.

I'm still learning.  Will you walk with me a little?

Gratitude

In the dim, he sleeps and I sit, listening to the tick tick of the iv drip. A thin ribbon of red flows from overhead. My eyes fix on the words "volunteer donor."

Today I offer a prayer of thanks and blessing to "volunteer donor" for his/her precious gift to my Dear Professor. They are an army of 5 before the day is done.

Five, the number of grace. How can I say thanks for such a treasure?

But there are more. A multitude. I offer gratitude to:

the calm voice answering the 911 call;

the emergency team who whisk him off into the night, sirens blaring, lights flashing, down our country road;

a young friend who leaves husband and child to surprise me in the ER asking, "how are you?";

a smile and hug from an old acquaintance now working in the hospital;

a brief visit from far away friends bringing a prayer, a touch, and a meal to nourish my body as their friendship nourishes my soul;

the skilled hands of paramedics, nurses, doctors, technicians offering compassion and care;

our scattered family supporting us over the miles with calls, prayers, email;

our faith community, encouraging and journeying with us;

Our Father, Great Physician, Giver of life, Quieter of fearful minds, Restorer, Redeemer;

There are more for tomorrow, but that is a start for today. My heart is full. My eyes overflow as I lean against my Dear Professor's chest and listen... to his heart... beat.

In the dim, he sleeps and I sit. Thankful.

(note: The above was written 3 days ago. My Dear Professor continues his recovery, gaining strength each day. For that I continue to be thankful.)

Who Am I?

That's a question I'm working on but problably won't answer completely until this earthly part of the journey is over. This much I can tell you for now. My name is JAS and I love Jesus. I'm a 60something wife, mother, grandmother, and spiritual friend in training. I've learned so much from dear friends in person as well as those on the page. My Dear Professor & I are currently transitioning into "retirement" back in Texas after spending 28 years in New York (for education) and Pennsylvania (for occupation).

My contact information is here at my other blog, iron acres. It's all about family, Texas, and our experiences in the frozen north.

What do I believe?

(because how I live depends on what I believe)

The Nicene Creed

I believe in one God, the Father Almighty, Maker of Heaven and Earth, and of all things visible  and invisible.
 
       And in one Lord Jesus Christ, the only-begotten Son of God, begotten of the Father before all ages; God of God,  Light of Light, very God of very God; begotten, not made, being of one substance with the Father; by whom all things were made.
 
       Who, for us all for our salvation, came down from Heaven, and was incarnate by the Holy Spirit of the virgin Mary, and was made man; and was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate; He suffered and was buried; and the third day He rose again, according to the Scriptures; and ascended into Heaven, and sits at the right hand of the Father; and He shall come again, with glory, to judge the living and the dead; whose kingdom shall have no end.
 
       And I believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and Giver of Life; who proceeds from the Father;  
who with the Father and the Son together is worshipped and glorified; who spoke by the prophets. 

     And I believe in one holy universal and apostolic Church.   I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins; and I look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come.              

Amen.

(if you'd rather hear it sung, click below)

Rich Mullins' video of "Creed" from the album Songs

Now

On Good Friday I heard it.  The monster growl began some distance away and grew louder slowly, slowly. The huge tractors were on the roads, heading for nearby fields to break up spring soil, still in groggy winter slumber, and prepare it for the seeding and fertilizing to follow.

The weight of the machines and the sponginess of the soil around here make wet spring weather difficult for farming.  Conditions have to be just right in order to get started in the process of creating this year's crop for a timely harvest.  The Amish have more freedom with horses and wagons than the English with pneumatic tires and gasoline engines.  It is not uncommon to see big work horses in the field, pulling machinery to work the soil much earlier than our English tractors.  So much for the advantages of modern technology!

A farmer is on the timetable of the sun and rain, not necessarily the religious calendar.   If the field needs to be worked, and he conditions are right on Good Friday, if he is a spiritual soul, he communes with God in the field.

That is a lesson I must learn, to commune with God where I am in this moment.  I really have no other.  I was struck during a sermon on Hebrews 11:1 many years ago.  A friend in the ministry, a man known for Old Testament prophet-like faith and understanding of the nature of God, spoke these words out of the strength of many years of struggle and communion with his heavenly Father.  They continue to reverberate in my heart:

"Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." NIV

Now faith is the substance.  Now faith is.  Now faith.

Now.

There are slumbering winter fields in my heart, Lord, that need preparation for summer fruitfulness.  Roots of foolishness run deep within.  Make your furrows deeper, amend the soil.  May my heart yield a field rich in the fruit of Your Spirit.

May I learn how to enter into Your presence in my present.

Now.


"For the Present is where time touches eternity."  CS Lewis.

He is Risen!!!

La Pieta

Written Easter of 1969 by Jeremiah Denton, while a prisoner of war in Viet Nam

The soldiers stare, then drift away,
Young John finds nothing to say,
The veil is rent; the deed is done;
And Mary holds her only son.

His limbs grow stiff, the night grows cold,
But naught can lose that mother’s hold,
Her gentle, anguished eyes seem blind,

Who knows what thoughts run through her mind?

Perhaps she thinks of last week’s palms,
With cheering thousands off’ring alms
Or dreams of Cana on the day
She nagged him till she got her way.

Her face shows grief but not despair,
Her head though bowed has faith to spare,
For even now she could suppose
His thorns might somehow yield a rose.

Her life with Him was full of signs
That God writes straight with crooked lines.
Dark clouds can hide the rising sun,
And all seem lost, when all be won! 

I know my Redeemer lives.  He is risen, indeed!

A Thin Place

My Dear Professor and I just returned from a few days at our favorite place in this world next to Texas -- a nearby Catholic retreat center. It is a place of beauty, quiet, prayer, and calm set in the midst of a sixty plus acre wood. Truly a thin place, where the division between this world and the next is almost transparent.

I discovered that on our first retreat here 8 years ago. My dear husband had planned it, and he was divinely guided in the timing. I was an emotional wreck, physically and spiritually exhausted, and reeling from an unexpected betrayal. I could feel myself slipping into the bottomless black hole of depression on our drive down. The betrayal had shaken me to the core, and everything was up for grabs -- who God was, how He interacted with me and I with Him. All was on the table. We had never retreated before, so we weren't sure what to expect. I went to bed, managing to trust that God would wake me up if He had a better idea. Somehow, in the midst of the shambles of my life and emotions, I had enough trust to think God was still good.

This particular center celebrates the Liturgy of the Hours, a Catholic tradition of setting aside seven times within a day's span to recite parts of the Psalms, read a passage from the Old or New Testament, and read short prayers according to the calendar of the church year. (This all takes place within a matter of 15 minutes.) It was the bell signaling call to prayer that awakened me, and the times of prayer that gave me structure when I had none. Mysteriously, the particular Psalm readings for those first days spoke directly to my wounded heart and, combined with the beauty and serenity of the building, began my healing. I shed many a tear on my dear husband's shoulder and cried out many a question to my heavenly Father before those three days were ended. The healing was not complete when we left, but I had the strength to take baby steps, and with the love of my husband and my Savior began a road to recovery.

In the intervening years, we have attempted to come back at least twice a year, and each time if only for a brief moment, the veil seems to part. This time I found a deeper meaning in the events we celebrate at Easter time. I was studying in the library loft and overheard a priest leading a catechism class. Afterward, I asked for his text. It was an anonymous sermon from the early church on supposed events surrounding the resurrection of Christ, and for me, an evangelical protestant, serves as a wonderful meditation on the depth of what Christ accomplished on the cross.

"A MEDITATION FOR HOLY SATURDAY

Something strange is happening - there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and He has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.

He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, He has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, He who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won Him the victory. At the sight of Him, Adam, the first man He had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: 'My Lord be with you all'. Christ answered him: 'And with your spirit'. He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: 'Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light'.

'I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by My own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in My image. Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in Me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated. For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.

'See on My face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in My image. On My back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of sin that weighs upon your back. See My hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.

'I slept on the cross and a sword pierced My side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced Me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.

'Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you."

His Victory, Our Hope

"Who can stay awake in this night of God? Who will not be

as if paralyzed by it? Christ's struggle was with God.

This was his real agony. He overcame it through his

self-surrender. That was his victory, and our hope."

--Jurgen Moltmann

I watched "The Passion of the Christ" again last night. I see something new with every viewing. What struck me this time was the image of the procession to Golgotha. As Jesus stumbled under the load of the cross (and our sin), Simon of Cyrene was called out from the crowd of onlookers to give assistance. The screenwriters added to the story a piece of dialogue. Simon said to a struggling Jesus, "you are almost there."

Although that is a piece of fiction, I believe it has eternal weight. This weekend while on a prayer retreat I watched as our great Redeemer approached my dear husband in the midst of his own struggle with self surrender.

With the power that comes only from experience, Christ whispered, "You are almost there".

Christ's victory became our hope.