If You Only Knew

I wrote this piece in 2005, about a paramedic I knew. In a sense, though, he represents the man or woman that each Christian knows, the one whom the devil would have us believe will never be saved. I still pray for his soul. Thank God, this medic's final call hasn't come yet.

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I see you sitting across the room, sprawled over a battered chair, your boots up on a small table. You are the picture of self-satisfaction, an imposing hulk of resting strength. There is nothing of weakness in your strapping form, in your square jaw, or snapping eyes. What would you say if I told you what I am thinking, that before me is a man bound helpless in the entanglements of sin, and lost in black darkness. Could you believe that my heart is filled with pity for you, that I cry out for your soul to the One Who alone can break your bonds? You would only laugh to hear such things—it would only be a big joke. Will the day ever come when you feel your need, when you are silenced by the realization of your lostness?

I have seen your dark eyes smolder sullenly and dance with teasing—will they ever burn with repentant tears? Will they ever shine forth the light of Christ’s transforming life?

Your hands, so large and yet so dexterous—they have often striven to save the lives of others; will they ever be clasped in prayer at the feet of Him Who is life? Will they ever turn the pages of a Bible with reverence?

You are laughing now—a hearty, ringing laugh that fills the room—and yet I know that yours is a mouth full of cursing and bitterness. Shall the day ever come when from those lips flow words of grace, bearing testimony to the love of Christ? Shall your voice ever utter words of humble thanks to Him Who died for you? I think I would cry to hear it, but they would be tears of joy such as I have never yet known.

Your pulsing, vibrant life has often come in contact with cold death—you know better than anyone else how frail this life is. You have witnessed man at his worst, at his weakest, at his most degraded, and you have a tough shell after all these years. I don’t blame you. But how I pray that beneath your cool, glinting bravado there lurks sometimes a doubt, a fear, a concern, albeit fleeting. A realization that the day is relentlessly approaching when your ruddy countenance will be set like a pale mask, when your darting eyes will be fixed in a terrible, empty stare, and you will be dead. Just dead.

You take a drink of your coffee, lean back to call out something to a friend passing in the hall, then your boots hit the floor with a bang and you stride out. Your shoulders fill the doorway, and you are gone.

Yes, hope quails within me. But why? There is One Who broke the power of death itself, and crushed the dominion of the Prince of Evil under His pierced foot. He who can plant a tiny seed in a cleft of rock, and cause it to grow into a great tree, rending even the ledge that binds it, can, with a word, shatter your defenses. He came into the world to save sinners—can He not save you? Will His blood, which cleansed Saul the Pharisee, the thief on the cross, and my own poor soul, fail to wash away your encrusted sin? May it never be!

“For the Son of Man has come, to seek and to save that which was lost.” Even so, may He come to you, and when you bow before His loving Lordship, you, even you, will no longer be lost.

And it seems that the angels of Heaven will scarce rejoice more than I.

"The Winter is Past"

"For behold, the winter is past, the rain is over and gone. The flowers have already appeared in the land; the time has arrived for pruning the vines, and the voice of the turtledove has been heard in our land." (Song of Solomon 2:11,12)

No wonder that Solomon found his joy echoed in every shade of springtime! What an exhilarating time of year! The winter is finally gone for good, and the rain clouds, at least for this afternoon, slipped away after having freshly washed the face of the earth. It was a glorious afternoon, and I trotted around outside from bush to flower to tree, trying to capture some of the beautiful blossoms. As usual, the pictures can't quite capture the beauty, especially because they can't capture that wonderful turtledove song, which echoed above me in the trees. And there's positively no way to capture the fragrances that emanated from each flower that I stopped to sniff. Such wonderful scents as I could never think up myself; in fact, I could hardly believe my nose!

Mmm...blueberries on the way...taste those blueberry pancakes!

And we'll have applesauce to put on our blueberry pancakes!

I hope to post some more photos soon; there were many more flowers that I didn't get good pictures of; I'll have to try again another day.

Big Dreams, and Higher Thoughts

The last night that I was working, I took my break around 3:00 AM. My feet and my eyes were heavy with weariness, and my heart was heavy with other things. Desperate for help from the Lord, and blinking back the tears, I went to my favorite break spot, pulled a bench over to the window, propped my sock feet up on the heater, and sat looking into the darkness and crying out to the Lord. I was not only tired, but resentful, thinking my yoke very hard and rebelling against the means that the Lord was using to answer one of my prayers.

And, as He always does in His grace, the Lord began reminding me of Himself. Reassuring me of His love, reminding me of His faithfulness, reinforcing His presence with me. The verse came to mind, “"For My thoughts are not your thoughts, nor are your ways My ways," declares the LORD. "For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are My ways higher than your ways and My thoughts than your thoughts. (Isaiah 55:8-9)

It was as though the Lord began saying, “My thoughts and plans for you are so much bigger than yours. You can hardly grasp the beginning of what I want to do with your life. Rachel, I am working to glorify Myself in your life! Think of it! To bring glory to the eternal God, the creator of the universe, by means of your humdrum, puny life!

“You wish your life was different—how do you want it to be? You want to bid goodbye to loneliness, to have the people you enjoy always with you. That is a big want. But I want something bigger for you; I want you to enjoy the only Friend that actually can be with you in every moment. You want to enjoy the love of family and friends. Rachel, I am offering you the love of God! I will not have you settle for less than the boundless, incomprehensible love of Christ!

“What is that? You wish your life was easier? That you were more free to do the things that are important to you? If you could only realize the privilege that it is to be doing the things that are important to Me! There is a reason you are here right now, Rachel. A reason you are living where you are, doing the daily chores that you are, bearing the responsibilities that you are. There is a reason you are working at this hospital, working this night shift. That reason is nothing less than My will—the good, and acceptable, and perfect will of God. I know your dreams don’t involve these things. But My will does.

“You have two big dreams. To be a wife and mom, and, if that doesn’t work out, to be a flight nurse. My will may encompass those things for you, but it goes far, far beyond. My will for you began before the foundations of the world, and it extends into eternity, long after this world has passed away. You are to do a work even nobler than that of a helpmeet, more magnificent and important than saving lives in a helicopter thousands of feet above the ground. That work is to accomplish my will. To follow in the steps of My Son, Who said, ‘I glorified You on the earth, having accomplished the work which You have given me to do.’ (John 17:4) And right now accomplishing My will means doing dishes and washing laundry and trying to figure out what to cook and working night shifts. It’s big stuff, Rachel. It’s the work which I have given you to do.”

I sat there in the quiet hospital and felt humbled and awed. Humbled because of my petty unbelief and self-will. Awed to know that my sitting alone on a bench in the night, was, to the God of heaven, a distinct event in eternity, a moment for Him to reveal Himself, even if only to one heart. And to daily life I now carry the thought, “The object of my life is not to carry a yoke that I love, but to love the yoke I carry, because the Lover of my soul has laid it on me.” How glad I am that the yoke was not removed while I moaned about it, because now I have the chance to learn to sing beneath it, and to gladden the heart of God by my song.

Spring Report

Well, it feels good to be writing a blog post again! A lot has changed in the scenery around here since I last wrote; spring has fully sprung and we've had a few days that felt an awful lot like summer! Over the last couple days, it seems like every time I look out the window, things are a little more green and luscious.

No more do I have to look for a hint of green in the fields; now I have to look for any colors BESIDES green! And the grass doesn't look like a buzz cut anymore, but is getting shaggy and thick...ready for a haircut in a few weeks! Today when I went for my walk I was thrilled to see the blue sheen of the grass, rippling in the wind.

Birds abound in every tree and bush, their bright songs competing with the mellower woodwind tones of the frogs. Speaking of the frogs, they have developed their voices, and now have enough breath for long, droning notes, the perfect accompaniment for a summer night. I saw some of them today when I walked by the pond. Only usually I didn't see them until I heard a "plop!" and saw their hind legs pushing them into the murky depths. Dozens of "plop" sounds preceded my footsteps, and the noises became silent in that area, but the relatives on the other side of the pond kept up the tune bravely.

The trees are beginning to bud, and not being afflicted with pollen allergies, I am enjoying the dusky greenish yellow tint that is sweeping across the forest. Daffodils wave cheerily in the sunshine (I hope to get a picture of them soon), and add their fragrance to the air, which already smells gloriously like summer. It's really pretty impossible to describe what summer smells like, only that you know it when you smell it.

Even the cows know summer is on it's way! Tonight they were let out onto the grass for an hour or so, and one escape artist found a way into the open field of waving green grass. In no time all sixty cows were following her, and they charged into the grass, kicking up their heels and plowing into the tufts of growing hay. Full of high spirits, they refused to be herded sedately like usual, but darted from one side to another, getting just out of reach but no closer to the barn. Ominous clouds, shattered by golden sunlight, began to slowly drop great drops of rain as we worked to get them in. Only the cowdog, charging onto the field like he knew he was a hero, was finally able to get their attention. We couldn't blame them. It's awfully hard to wait for summer!

Forsaken but not Forgotten

Hello dear blog readers! Just a note to say that I haven't forgotten about the blog, and I really do want to write a new post, just haven't had the time lately....but NEXT week I very much hope to! :) Thanks for checking in! Also, a friend pointed out that I should add a "Followers" section, so I did. :) Enjoy the hot summer weather this weekend!

Frog Songs

WARNING: This blog post doesn’t even pretend to be profound. It’s just pure enjoyment of God’s creativity!

This evening I walked out to one of the ponds, and was amazed to hear how vigorously the frogs
were singing! I managed to sneak right up to the edge of the water without disturbing them, and realized that the racket of frog sounds is actually made up of several distinct voices.
I don’t know much about frogs at all, but I think I’ve heard that the reason they chirp is to attract a mate. I found myself grinning as I pictured the gentlemen (or maybe they’re females, I’m not sure) who were producing the different sounds.

Away to my right, there was a rather debonair frog whose song sounded almost exactly like, “Pretty birdy!”, repeated over and over in a see-saw voice. Ostensibly this was a mistranslation, and he was actually saying, “pretty froggy, pretty froggy.” One must hope that this admiration was directed toward the lady of his choice, and not a desperate attempt to gain the attention of any females in the vicinity. At any rate, he did have a fine voice.

From the rushes to my left came a unique call that can only be described as a combination of a creaking noise and a rippling scale. It seemed probable to me that the individual producing the sound was as enigmatic as his song. Doubtless he sang of a life of adventure and thrill, though without being very particular about the details.

Directly at my feet was the Scientific Suitor. All I heard from him was a series of beeps, emitted mostly at regular intervals, with an occasional pause. Quite possibly it was a form of sonar, and he had to stop every so often to listen for an echo. Clearly he did not pretend to be romantic like his one neighbor, or imaginative like the other; his policy was to present himself in a predictable manner which would most efficiently attract a lady of sense. Hopefully the said lady had better eyesight than I, for although I was quickly able to localize the origin of his voice, I could not by peering into the weeds, discover him.

And so, they flattered and trilled and beeped away, each at the top of his lungs, and it was really quite impossible to predict which would be the most successful with regard to the females, who no doubt were tittering and giggling along the sidelines. Personally, I thought that the combination of the three songs was the most enchanting.

Soaring

If someone were to ask you, “What picture from nature best describes or depicts the Christian life?” what would you think of?

After the other evening, I know what I would answer. I had stepped outdoors into an evening that sang of spring. Peepers and other frogs trilled away in the pond, birds called goodnight to one another joyously, and the wind sweeping through the pine branches was warm and refreshing. The evening felt clear, but there were dark clouds in the western sky, between which the sun was playing hopscotch.


Then I saw two great birds soaring low over the hills. Their great wings were spread out, and they were catching the wind, leaping on top of the invisible columns of rising air, swooping with the ever changing currents, and looking overall like they were having a splendid time. I thought how wonderful it would be to be one of them.

But then, I looked toward where the sun was setting. A gigantic column of cloud, dark and majestic, rose towering into the air, breaking the sun’s rays into scores of lighted columns, which reached all the way to the ground. It was hard to believe that the cloud was just a collection of water droplets; it all seemed so surreal, like the pictures of nebulae in space. It seemed like the closest thing possible to a representation of God, in all His glory and majesty. The picture hardly begins to capture it.


I gazed in awe—and then I saw something more beautiful still. One of those birds was up there, right by that cloud, right by the golden rim where the sunlight burned a white hole in my vision. No longer did it seem like a great bird able to harness the power of the wind. It was only an insignificant speck, utterly incomparable with the power that surrounded it, but fearless and free.

Doesn’t that picture one aspect of the life that God wants us Christians to have in Him? No power in ourselves, no match for the winds of life, no comparison to God Himself, and yet living a life of victory, freedom, and perfect security. The winds were so much stronger than that bird, and yet it had no reason to fear them because God has given it wings, and in fact the wind only serves to lift the bird to greater heights.

Life on this earth is hard; the days often hold monotony, sorrow, disappointment, and frustration for us. Often we don’t feel like a soaring bird, but more like a Canada goose, beating its wings endlessly, day after day, heading for a goal that seems so far away. Like the geese, we work together, one breaking wind for another until he wearies and they trade places. Life is a lot of hard work. God allows that. But He also calls us to mount up spiritually on wings like an eagle, facing the hard things in life but not wearying because He has given us wings to ride the wind. It’s the rest of being so weak that we have to rely utterly on Him. Of realizing that apart from Him we can do nothing, and trusting Him to do everything. It’s the joy of the bird who ceases to beat its wings, only spreads them out and, resting on the wind, soars up to meet the sunset.