Category Archives: Faith

A Covering

I need a covering. After a string of dismal, rainy days in December, very unusual for my part of the world, the view is depressing. The sky hangs dark and gray. My yard is strewn with the debris of three dogs, two of them still puppies. Deer hides and bones dragged in from the fields after hunting season, leftover corncobs from harvest, and bits of plastic and tin cans salvaged from my recycling bins litter the backyard’s open spaces. The holes the dogs dug have become mud pots for rolling in before wanting in the house.

This bitter, ugly landscape mortifies me every time I look out my windows. The scene carries reminders of the past, embarrassment over the current state of things, and shame at my inability to bring lasting improvement to the situation. Oh, how I long for it all to disappear.

I need a covering. A good blanket of pure, white snow would do the trick. It would wipe the ugly from view and make it a distant memory.  The forgiving layers of clean ice crystals would wipe away the stark evidence of the past and dying season.

It’s not just my view of the backyard that needs help, though. It’s my view of my heart. I am constantly mortified by what I see if I dare to look closely. Too often, I barely give it a cursory glance, like the way I avoid looking out the window this week because I know what I’ll find. I’m much less likely to see the extent of my need.

I need a covering, a covering for my sin. One that blots out its memory and offers forgiving relief from the painful reminders and evidences of the destruction I leave in my wake. One that hides the raw and bitter ugliness that makes itself visible too often. I need a covering that remains until newness of life springs eternal.

God has given just that–a covering for my sin. In the birth of his son as a little baby He offered forgiveness and healing. His son, Jesus, would ultimately take my punishment, give me His life, and cover me in the pure white of His perfection. I fail, too often, to remember that I am already purified. “Come now, let us reason together, says the LORD; though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow…” (Isaiah 1:18). This covering is not whimsical like weather. It remains and brings the relief I long for.

I have a covering! My heart is clothed in Jesus’ righteousness and my yard is blanketed in pure white, for the snow has begun to fall.

 

“In this was manifested the love of God toward us, because that God sent his only begotten Son into the world, that we might live through him. Herein is love, not that we loved God, but that he loved us, and sent his Son to be the propitiation [atoning sacrifice, covering] for our sins.” 1 John 4:9-10

“He is the atoning sacrifice for our sins, and not only for ours but also for the sins of the whole world.” 1 John 2:2

“Blessed is the one whose transgression is forgiven, whose sin is covered.” Psalm 32:1

 

©Erika Rice

Today, I’m Working on My Heart.

Today, I’m working on my heart. Oh, but that was yesterday, too, and for sure the day before that. I seem to be in an ongoing battle for the consistent joy I desire. Some days its easy to have an attitude of gratitude. Some days simply waking up is enough to start me complaining. As the days shorten, the rain and snow fall intermittent, the dogs bring the dirt and drizzle dripping through the door, shoes litter the entry and pile neglected underfoot, I come to a realization. I have not kept a quiet heart, but find myself living in a place of unrest. I have been ignorant of the level of my discontent until I listen to my own voice time after time, unrelenting in its disapproval. Oh, I can make a very decent list of things I’m thankful for at the end of the day, and I repeat the words “thank you” to my husband and children, with sincerity, many times a day, but know that the peace of a grateful heart is not in me. It’s as if the words are needed as proof of what I’d like to be true.

The Bible describes the Christian life as a race that needs to be run with endurance (Heb. 12:1) and in such a way as to win (1 Cor. 9:24). So I determine that I have been coasting and that is no way to win. I need to pick up the pace and leap this hurdle and finish victorious. I run what feels a frantic pace into a gale force wind that leaves me striving and exhausted but having gained no ground. The only marker I’ve reached is labeled Frustration and Failure. And agitation seems to be all I can muster. I know I need the strength of another, and I think He is the One I’m pursuing. He is the reason I’m running. I keep calling His name and reaching for His hand, but feeling it all lost in the wind. Then suddenly it comes to me, and my falling frame is lifted. I am not running the race to find Him. He is already holding me. (Psalm 63:8 & 73:23). “Nevertheless, I am continually with you; you [God] hold my right hand.” And He says to me, “‘Be still, and know that I am God […]’ The Lord of hosts is with us…” (Psalm 46:10) Just like that the wind has subsided. I am at rest. The race has not ended, but I am no longer running with my legs. Like one who runs and won’t grow weary, I am lifted on the wings that also are my shelter (Isaiah 40:31 & Psalm 91:4). I do not need to frantically strive to overcome my character flaws. It never gets me anywhere. I simply need to ask Christ. Christ is my salvation and my champion. He fights the battle. He runs the race. He carries me in His arms, and someday it will be across the finish line, complete in Him.

This changes everything. I can’t help but be thankful. The attitude of gratitude comes without effort when my eyes are fixed on Jesus, the author and perfecter of my faith (Heb. 12:2). Tomorrow, I will not be perfect, but I will be forgiven; and my heart will be known by God, who will lead me in the right direction. (Ps. 139:23-24). Tomorrow, by God’s grace, I will rest in His unfailing love and His purpose that He promises to fulfill for me. (Psalm 138:8). Tomorrow, God is working on my heart, just as He has been all along. (Phil. 1:6).

 

©Erika Rice 2015

Remembering my Father

Yesterday was Father’s Day. When I think of fathers, I always think of my own, for obvious reasons. I remember his tenderness, tears, love and prayers. I remember the gentle way he always made it okay to be weak or wounded and needing some consolation, yet never allowed me to indulge in self-pity. I remember the way he diverted my attention from my suffering to better things or told me to pick myself up and start over when I fell or failed. He loved to infuse tense moments with humor and was quick with a smile or hug. He was always willing to listen, offer wisdom where he had it and pray for wisdom where he lacked it. He taught me to pray and search God’s Word for answers.

My father taught me Scripture instead of just telling me what to do. He would give me gentle reminders like these as befit the occasion:

James 1:19-20 “…But everyone must be quick to hear, slow to speak and slow to anger; for the anger of man does not achieve the righteousness of God.” Anger is rarely ever helpful, but being quiet long enough to hear someone else’s side can change everything.

1 John 4:20 – “If someone says, ‘I love God,’ and hates his brother, he is a liar; for the one who does not love his brother whom he has seen, cannot love God whom he has not seen.” If I insist that I DO love God then I better show it by loving my brother. And what is love?

1 Corinthians 13:4-7 – “Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing, but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.” It’s hard not to be rude to the irritating people I live with everyday who can’t see that MY WAY is the BEST WAY…So much for love.

Proverbs 15:1 – “A gentle answer turns away wrath, but a harsh word stirs up anger.” Little explanation is needed here.

Reminders such as these were words from my Heavenly Father not just my earthly father, both of whom I desired to please. In fact, there’s no one it would pain me more to hurt or disappoint. My longing to please my earthly father was greater because he did not demand that I please him, but urged me to do right and loved me in spite of myself. He loved me as nearly like my Heavenly Father as I imagine possible.

My father was safe, strong, wise and upright. He was trustworthy and compassionate. He desired good for his children and encouraged us. He modeled selflessness, hard work, generosity, hospitality, and love for God, His Word and His people. He never turned away anyone in need.

What I do not remember of my father is a harsh tone or words, anger or abuse. I do not remember him demanding work from me that he was not willing to do by my side. I do not remember him burdening me with loads too heavy for his own shoulders or too distasteful to be done by him.

I know he wasn’t perfect. He’d have been the first to admit it. He was good at recognizing his failings and also good at apologizing. What I know is that when I read in the Bible that God is patient and long-suffering, compassionate and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in love (Psalm 86:15, Joel 2:13, Nehemiah 9:17, 2 Peter 3:9), I believe it. I believe it because if an earthly father is capable of such things, how much more so a perfect God? Matthew 7:11 says, “If you then, who are evil, know how to give good gifts to your children, how much more will your Father who is in heaven give good things to those who ask him!”

As Father’s Day fades away for another year, I want to remember the example of my father every day, parenting as he did; and even more so because he was the visible picture of my Heavenly Father, the Heavenly Father who tells all His children to be like He is.

Colossians 3:12-14 – “Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.”

 

©Erika Rice 2015

Jerusalem with Jesus

My husband and I teach the 7th and 8th grade class at our church on Wednesday nights. The last few weeks we’ve been turning the room into a big map of Israel, adding significant locations each week, telling some of the stories for which each place is known.

Two weeks ago, we visited Mt. Carmel. The students worked on their improvisational skills, acting out Elijah’s confrontation of King Ahab and defeat of the 450 prophets of Baal and 400 prophets of Asherah as I read straight from 1 Kings 18. After reenacting the story once, they switched characters and went through the story again from memory. That’s when I became a bull sacrificed on the altar, so that I, in my sons words, “could be as embarrassed as the rest of them.” With an evil king, dancing, fire from heaven, laughter and a mountain made of real caramel to eat afterwards, I hope it’s one Biblical event they won’t soon forget. On Mt. Carmel, God showed Himself real in a powerful way that no one present could deny. The other gods were shown not just to be weak, but non-existent.

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Views from the top of Mt. Carmel
Views from the top of Mt. Carmel
Monument memorializing Elijah's slaughter of the false prophets
Monument memorializing Elijah’s slaughter of the false prophets
View of the brook, Kishon, from Mt. Carmel - where false prophets were slaughtered by Elijah
View of the brook, Kishon, from Mt. Carmel – where false prophets were slaughtered by Elijah

Last week we walked through Jerusalem with Jesus. We highlighted twelve significant events leading up to the death and resurrection of Jesus as recorded in the Gospels. As we read the passages of Scripture, we looked at photos of the locations today. Sometimes, it helps to have a visual image of what we read and hear.

The Triumphal Entry – Luke 19:28-40

The Plot to Kill Jesus – Luke 22:1-6; Matthew 26:1-5, 14-16

Jesus Foretells Peter’s Denial – Matthew 26:30-35

Jesus Prays in Gethsemane – Matthew 26:36-46

Judas’ Betrayal – Matthew 26:47-50

Jesus Before The High Priest (Caiaphas) – Matthew 26:57-68

Peter Denies Jesus – Matthew 26:69-75

Jesus is Mocked – Matthew 27:27-31

The Crucifixion – Luke 23:26-38

Jesus Dies – Luke 23:44-47

Jesus is Buried – Luke 23:50-54; Matthew 27:57-61

The Resurrection – Matthew 28:1-10

Jerusalem from the top of the Mount of Olives
Jerusalem from the top of the Mount of Olives
The Mount of Olives from Old Jerusalem
The Mount of Olives from Old Jerusalem
The Eastern Gate, blocked in by Muslim conquerors because the Jews believed it was the gate through which the Messiah would enter the city
The Eastern Gate, blocked in by Muslim conquerors because the Jews believed it was the gate through which the Messiah would enter the city
The Garden of Gethsemane
The Garden of Gethsemane
St. Peter in Gallicantu Monastery, erected on the former site of Caiaphus's palace, where Jesus was taken to be tried after Judas' betrayal
St. Peter in Gallicantu Monastery, erected on the former site of Caiaphus’s palace, where Jesus was taken to be tried after Judas’ betrayal
Dungeons under the high priest's palace
Dungeons under the high priest’s palace
Depiction of Peter denying Jesus three times, in the courtyard of St. Peter in Gallicantu Monastery, formerly the courtyard of Caiaphas
Depiction of Peter denying Jesus three times, in the courtyard of St. Peter in Gallicantu Monastery, formerly the courtyard of Caiaphas
Remains of Roman pavement under the Convent of the Sisters of Zion, probably dating to Emperor Hadrian. On the stones are seen the remains of the "Game of the King" played by Roman soldiers.
Remains of Roman pavement under the Convent of the Sisters of Zion, probably dating to Emperor Hadrian. On the stones are seen the remains of the “Game of the King” played by Roman soldiers.
Some believe this is Golgotha, the Place of the Skull, due to its resemblance of a skull as well as its location outside the city walls where three roads converge to enter the city; a location of high visibility warning visitors to Jerusalem not to break the law.
Some believe this is Golgotha, the Place of the Skull, due to its resemblance of a skull as well as its location outside the city walls where three roads converge to enter the city; a location of high visibility warning visitors to Jerusalem not to break the law.

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Upon seeing the ledge for rolling the tombstone in place, one of our students said, “That doesn’t look so hard to move.” Imagine my excitement that he noticed the details! Sometimes, visuals are great aids to our understanding. It makes sense of Matthew 27:62-66, where the chief priests request that the tomb be sealed and guarded so no one could steal Jesus body and claim He had risen from the dead.

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And yet, the tomb was empty when the women visited it at dawn on the first day of the week! The stone was rolled away and Jesus himself met the women and spoke to them, proving what the angels had just told them… (Matthew 28:1-10)

web-sizeHe is not here, for He is RISEN!  Matthew 28:6

Just as on Mt. Carmel, God showed Himself real in the most powerful of ways. No other god, or world leader, or prophet has done what Jesus did. No other god has humbled himself to become a man, has died a criminal’s death though completely innocent, and then risen again to live forever. Many have tried to deny the reality of the resurrection ever since (Matthew 28:11-15), but all who believe have received grace upon grace from His fullness (John 1:16).

“He came to his own, and his own people did not receive him. But to all who did receive him, who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God,”  John 1:12

This is great news! If our students learn anything from our mapping of Israel and telling its stories; the best and most important lesson they, or any of us, can learn from Mt. Carmel or a walk through Jerusalem with Jesus is that God is the only God and Jesus the only Savior. Life is given to all who believe in His name.

 

©Erika Rice

Wanted: Servants of the Master

I read an article the other day that left me heavy-hearted. It was taking the church to task for not providing enough ways for women to serve within the body. The author made it clear that the opportunities for service she wanted were in leadership, chances for her intellectual and theological prowess to be exhibited. Don’t give her any more kitchen duty, nursery duty or children’s ministry. By the time I finished reading, I was deeply saddened.

I’ve read many open letters to “the church” complaining about one thing or another that makes each author feel devalued or under-appreciated. Finally, a moment of clarity came upon me. This is all just so much jockeying for position. We’ve become like James and John in Mark 10:35, “Master, we want you to do for us whatever it is we desire.” What was their desire? They asked to be seated on Jesus’ right and left when He was established in His glory. In other words, they wanted positions of honor.  Jesus answer was a far cry from what they had hoped to hear.

“…But whoever would be great among you must be your servant,  and whoever would be first among you must be slave of all. For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many.” Mark 10:43-45

A servant is one who performs duties for another – rarely seen and rarely praised. We all want to be lords of the manor, sought by others for our wisdom and giftedness while we sit in comfort. Meanwhile, the servants are doing the daily work of scrubbing, sweeping, ironing, washing, cooking and polishing in order to make the lord look good. The life Christ calls us to as His followers, The Church, gets lived in the servants’ quarters. How do I know this?

Philippians 2:3-8 gives us two strong directives.

1. Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.  Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others. (vs.3-4)

2. Have this mind among yourselves, which is yours in Christ Jesus, who, though he was in the form of God, did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. (vs. 5-8)

After the attitude of Christ has sunk in and taken root in our hearts, there is another word from Christ that needs to hit us like a wrecking ball, knocking us off our self-built pedestals. John 13:13-17 is too-little noticed. Jesus rose from supper to wash His disciples feet. (John 13:1-12) First, they protested because they thought it was a job beneath Jesus’ dignity, but Jesus was adamant. When He had finished, He wanted the disciples to get the point of the whole exercise. He spoke the following words,

“You call me Teacher and Lord, and you are right, for so I am. If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet. For I have given you an example, that you also should do just as I have done to you. Truly, truly, I say to you, a servant is not greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him. If you know these things, blessed are you if you do them.” (Jn 13:13-17).

A servant is not greater than his master.

A servant is not greater than his master. If we catch the full weight of these words following on the heels of Jesus’ actions, and ultimately His death on a cross, it will transform us. What job is beneath us? Why do we worry about being devalued? We must learn to think less of ourselves, to the point of serving in positions that draw the smallest crowds of workers and onlookers. The jobs we least want to do are the ones we should make haste towards. Or do we believe someone else should be required to do what we abhor?

We are so worried that our gifts will go unnoticed. But I believe God, who gifted us and knows us intimately, requires first a faithfulness in the little things. (Matthew 25:21). Matthew 6 tells us to beware of practicing our righteousness in order to be noticed, for if we are honored by men, we will have received our reward in full. In addition, 1 Peter 5:6 admonishes us to humble ourselves that God may exalt us in the proper time. Maybe that won’t be until Heaven, but there the believer’s reward is secure, and far greater than the limited and fleeting notice we will get on earth.

Do you really want to serve? I’ve never been part of a church that had too many willing servants. Diapers always need changing in the nursery, trash cans need to be emptied. If you have no experience with children and fear breaking someone else’s baby while changing a diaper, or your back is too damaged to carry a trash bag, then be the one to offer a ride to an elderly church member, or visit mid-week to read aloud to someone who’s eyes are failing. If you, like the author of the article, are theologically trained and desire to use your teaching gift, start a Bible study in a nursing home. Be the theologian who sits silently beside the broken and mingles your tears with theirs.

Do something that needs doing even if no one else will notice. Just please don’t tell me you are leaving the church because the church hasn’t recognized your gifts and given you a place to visibly serve. The Church is not an organization that bears responsibility for screening and placing each of it’s members in a pre-assigned position. God’s people are The Church; people who are humbling themselves enough to follow their master’s lead all the way to the death of our desires for recognition and prominence.

I’m grieved by all the complaining about how our needs are unmet. Doesn’t God promise to meet our every need (Phil. 4:19 – And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.)? Do we trust Him to do what He says? Let’s use that abundance to meet the needs of another in joyful, willing, unremarkable and often unnoticed service. God sees and will reward His servants in due time.

©Erika Rice 2015

Resting

I have a confession to make: I rarely make it through the pastor’s sermon application and summation without having the “perfect” closing hymn come to mind. Certainly, there could be many hymns that fit the bill, and the one I think of is not usually the one we sing. But that’s not the point.

The point is that my pick for today’s closing hymn actually came before the sermon. It’s been floating around my head the last couple days. In fact, I caught myself drifting to it during the sermon more than once and had to reign in my thoughts so as not to miss anything my pastor was saying. Today, he was helping us understand Moses’ pleading with God in Exodus 33:12-17, pleading with God to go with him. It’s all about knowing God and being known by God. His conclusion was that in God’s presence, in knowing and being known, because of Jesus’ work on our behalf, there is rest and there is joy. All of a sudden, I was right back in the middle of that hymn, the hymn whose words have been floating through my head for the last couple days. We sang a different hymn to close the service, but that’s okay. I love the one we sang just as much, and another day I’m sure it will be the one I can’t get out of my head. But for today, Jesus, I am resting, resting, in the joy of what Thou art.

Jesus! I am resting, resting
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.
Thou hast bid me gaze upon Thee,
And Thy beauty fills my soul,
For, by Thy transforming power,
Thou hast made me whole.

Jesus! I am resting, resting
In the joy of what Thou art;
I am finding out the greatness
Of Thy loving heart.

Oh, how great Thy loving kindness,
Vaster, broader than the sea:
Oh, how marvelous Thy goodness,
Lavished all on me!
Yes, I rest in Thee, Beloved,
Know what wealth of grace is Thine,
Know Thy certainty of promise,
And have made it mine.

Simply trusting Thee, Lord Jesus,
I behold Thee as Thou art,
And Thy love, so pure, so changeless,
Satisfies my heart,
Satisfies its deepest longings,
Meets, supplies its every need,
Compasseth me round with blessings,
Thine is love indeed.

Ever lift Thy face upon me,
As I work and wait for Thee;
Resting ’neath Thy smile, Lord Jesus,
Earth’s dark shadows flee.
Brightness of my Father’s glory,
Sunshine of my Father’s face,
Keep me ever trusting, resting,
Fill me with Thy grace.

~Jean Sophia Pigott, 1845-1882

©Erika Rice

 

Break Forth Into Singing

“Sing, O barren one, who did not bear; break forth into singing and cry aloud, you who have not been in labor!” Isaiah 54:1a

Ten days into the new year I can’t shake the promise stalking me since New Year’s Eve. It lurks at every corner, appears with every bend of thought. As sinister as that sounds, it is more like the security of a strong presence on a dark street at night, or the warmth of an embrace when waking from a bad dream.

That’s exactly what Isaiah 54 was meant to be to the people of Israel–comfort after a time of desolation. The people were bereft, abandoned, scattered, grieving and shaken. Yet suddenly they are being told to sing. To sing in spite of their sad state. How does a barren and desolate woman sing? The answer follows in a promise, the promise of blessing and a relationship with God.

“For the children of the desolate one will be more than the children of her who is married,” says the LORD. (Isaiah 54:1b)

“For you will spread abroad to the right and to the left, and your offspring will possess the nations and will people the desolate cities.” (vs. 3)

“Fear not, for you will not be ashamed; be not confounded, for you will not be disgraced; for you will forget the shame of your youth…

For your maker is your husband…

and the Holy One of Israel is your Redeemer…

For the LORD has called you like a wife deserted and grieved in spirit…

with everlasting love I will have compassion on you,” says the LORD, your Redeemer. (Isaiah 54:4-8)

Such tender, soothing words from a loving maker continue:

“O afflicted one, storm-tossed and not comforted, behold, I will set your stones in antimony, and lay your foundations with sapphires.” (vs. 11)

“In righteousness you shall be established; you shall be far from oppression, for you shall not fear; and from terror, for it shall not come near you.” (vs. 14)

Oppression is far away, because fear is removed. How is this even possible? How can one so oppressed, afraid and grief-stricken believe that good, beyond imagining, can happen? That answer is found before the promise of such abundant blessing, in Isaiah 53.

“He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrow, and acquainted with grief […] He was despised and we esteemed Him not. Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken, smitten by God and afflicted. But He was pierced for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His wounds we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned–every one–to his own way; and the LORD has laid on Him the iniquity of us all.” (Isaiah 53:3-6).

He (Jesus) was oppressed, and He was afflicted, led like a lamb to slaughter. (Isaiah 53:7) He knew greater grief than I will ever know, but because of HIS grief, I have the assurance that MY grief will not last forever. The promise of restoration and blessing and a glorious future are mine.

As I look back on the last year and the loss of family members to the ravages of cancer, the new diagnoses of cancer in close friends, see accidents and illness taking their brutal toll, and think of the mothers I know whose arms are now empty, I feel the weight of so much grief. But I know the One who bore those griefs on His own beaten and bloody back, who was stricken, crushed, and pierced to bring me peace. My sins and sorrows were heaped on Him and the anguish of His soul is where satisfaction is made. Because Jesus Christ bore my sorrows first, I am not crushed beneath the weight of sin and grief. I can do as Isaiah said in chapter 54 and break forth into singing! This grief is passing, but the promised reward is everlasting. It’s a reward that  will wipe sorrow and despair from memory.

I am embraced and secure and comforted, and it stirs a song way down deep that can’t help but be sung.

“Fear not, for you will not be ashamed;
be not confounded, for you will not be disgraced;
for you will forget the shame of your youth,
and the reproach of your widowhood you will remember no more.” Isaiah 54:4

“Sing, O barren one, who did not bear;
break forth into singing and cry aloud,
you who have not been in labor!
For the children of desolate one will be more
than the children of her who is married,” says the Lord.        Isaiah 54:1

©Erika Rice 2015

Dark Decembers

December a few years past was a tough one for me. I struggled each day to keep my thoughts from dragging me down into a pit of despair. It was a moment by moment battle to fix my mind on things above, the truths that are unchanging, and take them off my pitiable self. Since that is so much more easily said than done, I needed help. I couldn’t allow any negative thought to fully form or it would carry me away. I had to keep returning to the rock that is higher than I (Psalm 61:1-3). Music was a balm, though not all music was helpful. My Exalted Worship album (hymns interspersed with Scripture and prayers) was well-played that month. Sometimes I would just reach over and turn on the radio, hoping to get outside my head with some Christmas music. But I was mostly disappointed and aggravated by the Christmas music played on the radio. What were silver bells and red-nosed reindeer, Christmas lights and rockin’ around Christmas trees to me at such a time?

I longed for Christmas songs with depth and meaning. Songs that reminded hurting people like me that Christ brought hope and healing and suffered my anguish to replace it with joy. Joy that would be my strength.  He brought joy! Not just a happiness for the moment, but a resounding heart’s-cry that God is good when all around me is not, when life is a battleground or people fail me. I was tired of hearing more about the superficiality of the season than the deep, abiding truth that Christ came to bring life to dead souls, to pull me from the pit I could not climb out of on my own.

Then one evening as I stood at my sink, a new song came on the radio. It was the first time I heard Third Day’s song “Children of God”. I turned to my kids and said, “THIS is Christmas!” This made me sing. This made me dance. What glorious truth is contained in these words:

Praise to the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ
Our God and our King, to Him we will sing
In His great mercy, He has given us life
Now we can be called the children of God

Great is the Love that the Father has given us
He has delivered us
He has delivered us

Children of God, sing your song and rejoice
For the love that He has given us all
Children of God, by the blood of His Son
We have been redeemed and we can be called
Children of God
Children of God

A mystery is revealed to the universe
The Father above has proven His love
Now we are free from the judgment that we deserve
And so we are called the children of God

We are the saints
We are the children
We’ve been redeemed
We’ve been forgiven
We are the sons and daughters of our God

“In His great mercy, He has given us life!” “The Father above has proven His love!” I am a saint. I’m a child. I’m redeemed and forgiven! I have a reason to celebrate, regardless of what anyone else says or does. And I can rejoice in Christmas, with or without silver bells and presents under the tree. Christmas runs so much deeper than traditions and tinsel. The hard in life doesn’t disappear because the calendar says it’s the holiday season. I need the knowledge of a solid foundation, an immoveable rock, a fortress in a storm. I need the sweet, gentle hand of mercy, lifting my load, raising my weary head, and helping me to my feet.

That was a dark and difficult December, one I won’t forget. To worship was to live. To exalt Christ was breath. To exalt myself was death.

If you are struggling this Christmas, wishing you had the picture-perfect family gathering, or maybe just someone to love you,  a life with fewer worries or a bit less drama, I encourage you to stop those thoughts dead. Recite Scripture verses and sing praises. Remind yourself of who God is and forget about who you wish you were or think others are. Sometimes prayers are hard to come by, though we know we should be praying; but songs are there for the repeating. Sing a song of life to your soul, a song full of the truth of God’s great character, abiding love, deep compassion, mercy and forgiveness, of His strength and power and gentle, Fatherly touch. This is Christmas! These truths. Christmas is not the time of year or the traditions. It’s hope in the heartache, dancing in the dark Decembers. Not because of ourselves or anyone around us, but because God makes us His children, and there is no safer place to be than in the arms of the Father.

We think Thanksgiving comes before Christmas. But the truth is it’s the other way around. Christ came to our darkness with His wonderful light and brought life to our souls. When our hearts see the truth, we can’t help but give thanks. Life breeds worship and to worship is to live.

Hear “Children of God” here.

Find Exalted Worship here.

Read Psalm 61 here.

 

©Erika Rice 2014

Laundry Closet Lessons

Gone are the days of filling my washing machine by way of 150 feet or more of hose. One hundred and fifty feet of hose stretched out to the old well under the windmill. No automatic shut-off, no temp or volume control.

Gone are the days of becoming distracted while waiting for the machine to fill, only to be called back by the realization that water is silently spilling over to create a lake on my kitchen floor.

Gone are the days of setting a timer to prevent such spillage due to distraction – the days of such distraction that I completely miss the timer.

Gone are the days of moving my washing machine every few days or more to sop up my mess. No one could possibly compete with me for the cleanest laundry room floor, because no one else does this, do they?

I’m reminded of those days as I kneel behind the washer now to clean up the accumulated mess of years. I don’t actually know when the machine was last moved. I’m sure it’s been at least a couple years now since I’ve battled the bulk of it to fit behind. I sometimes look at it and feel a pang of guilty neglect while leaving the unpleasant task for yet another day.

Here I am now, on my knees sweeping up mouse droppings and chasing the whole dust bunny family, needing elbow grease to get to the bottom of the accumulated crud. All this leaves me plenty of time to reflect on the blessing of an overflowing washing machine. I like clean, but sometimes (obviously) I need an outside motivator to make it happen.

Many of those days felt so unproductive. Every attempt to clean up a mess simply created another. Though I was always busy, I often wondered if I’d accomplished anything by the end of the day. But I think a greater work was being accomplished than what I had planned into my day. A work not done by me but in me. It was here in this corner on my knees that the hard work of giving thanks in all circumstances was practiced and the heart of gratitude produced.

I am thankful for that overflowing washer yet content to never again be champion of the cleanest-laundry-closet-floor-competition. Thankful, in fact, to not even be in the running. Who, after all, would move the washer every few days just to scrub underneath it? Not me. This much I have proven since necessity quit calling. I am thankful, too, for the gift of grace that taught joy in the midst of the laundry lint and excess water.

The days of long hoses snaking through to the washer, the days of creating lakes on the kitchen floor, the days of dirt-free laundry closets may well be gone. But the lessons live on.

 

©Erika Rice

Agents of Mercy

How does one weave together the bits of our story lines, the threads of our daily lives to create a fluid narrative, a gorgeous tapestry? There are threads that appear loose, maybe just in need of tying together, binding up or intersecting with a few more lives to understand the pattern as a whole. Some threads appear wholly disconnected or out of place. Until eternity we will never see clearly, but we must try to see even dimly or we lose hope that we are ever more than just frayed edges.

Here a few threads intersect, held together by one main thread in one great guiding hand.

It was my birthday, 2012. I sat in church with my oldest, college-age son, listening to his pastor. He told us that God created all things for the purpose of bringing glory to Himself, in order that all creation might see His power and goodness. I have a distinct memory of the pastor saying that there are no maverick molecules in the entire universe, but that each one is ordained by God and under His control. I’ve checked the transcript and listened to the sermon again and do not hear him say that, though I found it other places. Memory lines blur and fuse at times. At any rate, the words were meant for me, an almost immediate sustaining grace.

My eleven year old had been suffering from headaches that week, though he perked up a bit for the weekend, making our birthday visit with the oldest possible. The headaches continued to worsen until 10 days later we found ourselves in an emergency room being prepared for the realities of brain surgery. My son had an epidural abscess and mastoiditis with ear infection. To put it simply, he had a bacterial infection inside his skull, a portion of his skull bone and his ear. The only way to drain an abscess from a fully enclosed space is to create an opening from which it can escape.

The surgery was delayed till the morning, though a wonderful ENT put a tube in my son’s ear immediately to begin the draining process. In the meantime, he was admitted to the ICU and a wonderful team of highly qualified doctors began attempting to unravel the mysteries of the universe, based on their knowledge of bacterial characteristics and habits. By God’s good healing hand, the impossible occurred, and the abscess did not need a drain hole opened in order to disappear. It took time, but the the healing began almost immediately, joyfully surprising everyone. Doctors asked every question they could think of to track down the source and explanation of an infection that appeared to have begun in the skull, which had never been injured, allowing bacteria to enter. This should not be. All I could say is that there are no maverick molecules in the universe. I do not know the how or why, but I know the One who does.

One day, in the ICU, after being downgraded from Intensive Care status, a brand new team of doctors and students swept through the door of our room. The resident was asking many of the same questions that had been asked and answered several times already, but they needed to know the answers. Some questions, however, were meant simply to put the patient at ease. Questions like, “How many brothers and sisters do you have? Are they all at home? What college does your brother go to?” When the last question was asked and answered and the doctors satisfied with their observations, the group moved to leave, all but one lovely student, who stopped to ask if we went to her church. She recognized the name of my son’s college and thought we might be connected to the church, the one we had just visited on my birthday. We’ve found a common thread, possibly one less frayed edge.

A mere five days after being admitted to the hospital, we were heading home, having seen the same lovely med student a time or two more. We’d been trained and sent home with specific and detailed instructions for our son’s care, assigned a support team, and loaded down with medicines to aid his healing process, a process we were told could still be long and exhausting.  Those were prophetic words, as my son was admitted two more times and spent nearly a month in the hospital. So many lives were woven together, intersecting for a time then woven into others’ lives, as wonderful, caring, dedicated, and compassionate people became involved in my son’s care. A hospital room is a revolving door of caregivers, exhausting the patient and loved ones with repeating the details, remembering names, building trust all over again.

That’s when God sent us an agent of His mercy, our own dear medical student from the first visit, full of compassion, for the duration of our stay. Each time we arrived back, she was there in a heartbeat, with her concerned look and embracing smile, teasingly chastising my son for being a difficult patient, saying, “Why do you have to be difficult? We don’t want you here. I mean, we LOVE you, but we don’t want to see you HERE. Maybe we could meet somewhere else sometime.” Every day she came to our room, for that’s what it became, our room. My husband and I were residents with my son, though our suffering was only the emotional agony of watching his physical suffering. Yet here was God’s agent, bringing her smile, her medical knowledge, her compassionate heart, her firsthand knowledge of the medical team’s thinking as doctors still struggled to solve mysteries and help heal without hurting. We had one tangible constant, for it seemed she never rested or missed a day.

Today, our own lovely and dear med student graduates. She was granted a residency in pediatrics without having to leave our city. These are her words from an e-mail she sent this week, “during my interviews, I got to talk about how my interaction with [your son] and the rest of [your family … ] played a significant role in my decision to go into pediatrics. And so, thank you all, […] for being a big and unexpected part of this journey. I can only imagine how difficult that time was on your end, but I’m also so grateful to God that He saw fit to orchestrate that, and to sustain you through it.” He did sustain us, using a single, random medical student, who wasn’t random at all, but strategically placed for our good as an agent of His mercy. There are no maverick molecules in the universe. I can’t solve all the mysteries, but the Hand of God weaves every last thread, pulling in the fraying edges and holding them tightly till the last stitch is made and the whole beautiful tapestry is seen clearly in all it’s glory. His glory.

Eta & Stephen the day before his final release from the hospital
Eta & Stephen the day before his final release from the hospital

 

©2014 Erika Rice