A Way Up In The Rain

The rain started before my feet touched the frigid wooden planks and fell full and wet long after sleeping heads nestled in feathery pillows that night.

"I haven't had a very good day," my youngest one mumbled.

"Why not?" I turned from the kitchen though it clamored still for my attention.

"Because it is just gloomy, mom. It's a gloomy day."

Gloomy. Those days come, don't they? The ones when life is a constant downpour and our soaking, socked feet slosh in puddles that rise like bread dough until we are swimming/treading and praying for the rains to cease. One minute my neighbor was scrubbing, the next she was slipping, dislocating her shoulder, wearing a sling, aching in shrill pain. One moment. And the next moment brought the storm.

I've known these moments well--the day when wedding rings held no more value than the plastic ones in dime store toy machines and vows became subject to change. Rain. Sometimes the rain is our tears and our hearts drown beneath them as they soul pelt. And I've heard the cries of sisters, of brothers begging God to make the gloom stop. The burying of child--life never lived. The tumor that swells like a savage balloon beneath a skull that cannot contain the expansion. The locking of doors that once held home, the giving of keys to a bank that insists it no longer belongs to them.

Jacob knew the rain too. It came because of his doing--as so many storms do in my own life. I choose wrong and rain pours. He tricked his brother out of his birthright. His brother wanted to kill him. I'd say that classified as cloudy with a chance of torrential downpours. So he sought refuge on a journey to his Uncle Laban's.  I can't help but think how often I seek refuge in a person when The Refuge and Strength stands, arms open.When he stopped to sleep along the way, he had a dream. It's the dream the toys are made for--the Jacob's ladders. He dreamt of a stairway to heaven. In the dream God spoke to him, telling him he would have as many children as there was dust on the ground,  that He would protect him, bring him back to this land, and never leave him until He accomplished all He promised.

When Jacob awoke he said these beautiful words. "Surely the Lord is in this place, but I did not realize it!" Thirteen words strung like pearls into a sentence for all mankind, and I have missed it until this morning when the rain slapped windows and caused the sky to droop grey with its weight. Then, amidst the dusky morning they glowed on the page--a light in the gloom.  The Lord is in the place of danger, the place of running, of hiding, of seeking refuge.

Surely, surely the Lord is in this place. And I didn't realize. We never see Him in the rain, do we? We forget He is present in all places, at all times.

And God asks,

"Do you people think that I am some local deity and not the transcendent God?"

I have to be honest and say that sometimes my mind may know that He is an ever present help in times of trouble, but my heart thinks He isn't there.

"Do you really think anyone can hide himself where I cannot see him?"

I sometimes think I'm not worth finding, not worth seeking, so why would this great, worthy God bother with a worthless me?

"Do you not know that I am everywhere?" The Lord asks. (Jeremiah 23:23-24)

Everywhere. Did I not realize it?

I didn't.

I don't.

Not always.

But He is.

Everywhere.

He is.

He is present when the toddler rages, spews hurt and pain, and we want to scream with them because we just don't know how to raise them, and parenting is harder than we thought it would be, and we would like a refund, please. He is present when adult child chooses wrong, and leaves aging mother bent in anguish. He is present when the Ugandan child we kept goes home, and I can't be there to help him through life, can't be there to see that he is fed, can't be there to shelter him from a country that is desert and desolate. He is present.

And doesn't His presence change everything?

Because if He is present and He is good and His love endures forever, then there are love and goodness in the murky, moving rain.

And if He is present, and He is a strong tower and He is the Prince of Peace, then there are strength and peace to clothe us when our soul shivers in pelting storms.

And if He is present than we can "consider it nothing but joy when we fall into all sorts of trials" because He takes all things and forms them for our ultimate good. All things.

And if He is present than we can "in all things give thanks" because He is in it and so it must be in some unutterable, unfathomable way be good.

"We needed the rain, son," I told him gently. "Remember those tulip bulbs you helped me to plant yesterday? And the daffodils? A little rain helps their roots grab hold."

It does, doesn't it? A little rain helps our roots to grab hold of The Anchor of our souls. We need the strong, right arm of our Father, need to grab hold. Sometimes we need the rain to force the hand, force it to reach deeper into His love, His grace, His mercy.

I remember a day a couple weeks back when the rains came. It was the same boy that went digging in his drawers for summer's swim trunks. I wondered where he'd gone when I didn't hear him for a few minutes. But every mother knows that rain in November and swimming trunks out can only mean one thing. I looked out into the yard for the rain-catcher. He was there--at the peak of the apple tree. Branches lifting, carrying, supporting him, he'd climbed it. A way up in the rain.

"Where can I go to escape your spirit? Where can I flee to escape your presence?

If I were to ascend to heaven, you would be there.

If I were to sprawl out in Sheol, there you would be.

If I were to fly away on the wings of the dawn,

and settle down on the other side of the sea,

even there your hand would guide me,

your right hand would grab hold of me.

If I were to say, "Certainly the darkness will cover me,

and the light will turn to night all around me,

even the darkness is not too dark for you to see,

and the night is as bright as day;

darkness and light are the same to you.

Certainly you made my mind and heart,

you wove me together in my mother's womb.

I will give you thanks..."

(Psalm 139:7-14a)

I will give thanks, even for life-rain.

Pray with me: Surely, Lord, you are here. Even now. You are present. Teach me to stop and remember You are present when it hurts, You are present when it is all good, You are present and I give You thanks. Thanks for the rain. Lengthen, strengthen my roots, Father. Let me feel your arms, making the way up while rains fall.

Missing His Face

It's not new news--we undertook a little project last April. We decided to build our own house as opposed to having one built or buying one already finished. Those of you who know us well are probably keenly aware of this endeavor since many of you assisted along the way. The reason we wanted to build was because we've lived in houses built by other people 's hands for other people's needs before. We've renovated those homes to make them fit into our lives; we've suffered through closets big enough for mice and toilets that never felt like flushing when guests came over. We've coated pepto-bismol colored walls with more palatable hues and we've attempted to infuse character and charm into standard issue pre-fab boring designs more than once. So this time, we designed the entire thing; we put ourselves into every single two by four and nail in this home. There is no room untouched by our choices and vision. There is not a closet or a cupboard or a corner that we did not think through and choose exactly the way it would look and what function it would serve. None. Nada. In fact the more we got into building the more we wanted to infuse into every shred of the home our personality, our mark, our plan. And in the end, it's like we are omnipresent in this home. We're everywhere. And here's the interesting part, if you know us--really know Jeff and Sarah--you see us in every detail of the home. But if you don't know us well, you'd walk through this house and completely miss our faces and our hearts in the bead board, the antiqued cabinets, the vintage pieces, the wooden counters. You'd walk right through and completely miss us. Here's what gets me--I think it's really easy for me to do that with God--entirely miss His face and heart in my life. There's a passage in Jeremiah 23 that reminds me of this: "Do you people think that I am some local deity and not the transcendent God?" the Lord asks..."Do you not know that I am everywhere?" the Lord asks." The transcendent God. Isn't that beautiful? When the morning's first rays of light transcend into a room it almost glows--it's not invasive light, it's a light that speaks gently, "I am here. Do you not know that I am everywhere? " When the darkness of life seems to hide the light of God can't you just hear your Father asking you that question? He is here. Now. While you read this blog, He is speaking into your heart, "Don't miss me. Don't miss my face. I'm with you. I'm in the circumstances you face. I'm in the predicaments you are in. I'm in the faces of your children and I'm in your job. I'm in your schooling and I'm in your friendships. I'm in your marriage. I will never leave. Never." But so often we don't see Him because we don't know, I mean really know Him or worse, we've forgotten what the face of God is like. When we lose the man we married to a disease that took him far too young we struggle to find the face of God in the ripping apart of our heart. When the child we raised begins to make destructive decisions the heart of our Father becomes a haze of disappointment and disillusionment as our offspring walk a path we'd never have chosen. And He weeps. Our heavenly Father weeps for us, that we could see Him amidst pain, amidst loss. And He whispers to our spirits, "You can't see me because I'm holding you in my arms. I'm not in front of you, I'm beneath you, carrying you. I'm not somewhere in the distance; I am here gripping you with my everlasting love." Acts 17:28 says, "for in him we live and move about and exist..." Our very lives are in Him. The great moments --when marriages are formed and babies sing their first cry, when homes are finished and jobs are gotten and promotions are given, when our children obey and spring surrenders her first blossoms--they're all the splendor of our Father on display. And the times when we trudge through the long dark valleys too are held in the palm of His eternal hand. Psalms promises He is a very present help in times of trouble. Very present. Near. This is our God. Do you see His face? Do you sense His presence even when you can't see His face? If our lives are houses and God is the designer, the decorater, the builder, the Creator then may we make it our goal to look for His face, to discover His heart in every detail. May we not walk through one single moment and miss Him. Open the eyes of our Heart, Lord. Open the eyes of our heart. Pray with me: Father, I know you are here, but help me to see You. Help me to believe that it is you that carries me, it is You that enables me, it is You that remains when all else fades away. May I never rob You of honor when good enters my life and may I never deny You your glory when I am sustained in troubled times. Thank you for your omnipresence in the marrow of my life. Amen. Read with me: Isaiah 55:6 Psalm 139

There's No Place Too Far

We had exciting news yesterday. Finally, after 1 year and nine months of living here in Georgia, we are buying land! Until now we have lived in a two bedroom cabin and then my mom's basement. We have loved both places and God has given us all that we have needed in both of these homes, but we've been like birds in a nest not our own. Most of our belongings have been quietly waiting on us in storage units as the days slipped by like yellow butterflies in a forever field of green grass. Finally, we are going to begin the process of building our own home. You know how it is for mothers--we crave our cave. A hunger for the place that with God's help I'll form into a haven for our family is so deeply embedded in my heart. There have been times when consumed with that very hunger, I had to confess to God that it was becoming more important to me than Him. He has patiently proven His sufficiency to me over and over and we have grown, even thrived despite not having a patch of earth attached to our name. So, with this news, you would think that elation would spew from me like hot lava or at least I'd be squealing like my mom's tea kettle when it's come to a boil. You would think. And yet if I'm honest (which you know me...I can't help but be) I stand before this change in our lives with fear, trembling and a little nausea in the pit of my stomach. The economy here has been uncertain in the last two years and many are losing their homes. Of course we have prayed and sought God's heart and plan for our lives regarding this decision. We never come to choices like this lightly and we've sought advice of others regarding whether we should build, buy or rent. Still, I get petrified when it comes to big choices like this. But just yesterday before we even found out about the land and when my mind was on other things, God really impressed on my heart the desire to memorize this verse. At the time, I didn't make any connection. "And let us hold unwaveringly to the hope that we profess, for the One who made the promise is trustworthy." (Hebrews 10:23) Later when we got the call that the land deal was going to fly I found myself whispering a prayer to God. Lord, will you give me a verse to cling to throughout this process. Now, I can tend to be a little slow, so I'm sure He was thinking...Ahh, yeah, I already did that; you memorized it this morning. Later that evening, He finally broke through the thousands of thoughts picnicking in my mind and reminded me of that passage of scripture I had committed to memory earlier in the day. You know when the crocus poke through the last bits of snow in early spring? The thought of that passage was like the first purple crocus in my flower gardens back in Ontario. In that moment, I realized, the God who I say that I believe in and count on had already gone before me and given me what I would need for the these upcoming days. "...the One who made the promise is trustworthy." How incredible is it when you realize the vastness, the greatness of our Heavenly Father? He is present in the future and knows what we will need. And He always provides. We have only to trust that He is in fact trustworthy. I've always loved the various attributes of God--omniscient, omnipotent, and today, I celebrate His omnipresence. Not only does God exist across the oceans where my sister and brother-in-laws serve as missionaries and in Ontario where my mother and father-in-law make their home, but His presence transcends time as we know it. He is present yesterday, today and tomorrow. Just thinking about His omnipresence washes me in relief and peace. Those things that can cause my heart to be anxious are in God's presence. My children's future, my husband's job, the local economy--these are all things that are beyond me. Though I anticipate them, plan for them and at times worry over them, they are not future concerns to God. They are simply part of what to God is a finished picture of my life. He knows the entire thing and is present for every single part of it. I can't know what tomorrow holds, but I know the God who is already present in my tomorrows. Psalm 139:7 says "Where can I go to escape your spirit? Where can I flee to escape your presence?" There is nowhere we can go that God is not already there. And listen to God's words in Jeremiah. "Do you people think that I am some local deity and not the transcendent God?" the Lord asks. "Do you really think anyone can hide himself where I cannot see him?" the Lord asks. "Do you not know that am everywhere?" the Lord asks. Isn't that beautiful? How often do I take God and limit him to one spot on a map? How often do we hear people pray, "Lord, please be with Susie in Mexico..." That's like me asking my son Nathan to be my son. He already is my son--that will never change. It's the same with God. He already is in Mexico, and Guinea and Papua and on the job site where my husband works. He is omnipresent. Everywhere. He is literally everywhere. I would never say I believe God only to be some local deity and yet so often my life reveals the true convictions of my heart. Today though, I choose to believe that the God who promises to "never leave thee nor forsake thee" is omnipresent. I choose to believe that the very God who made that promise is trustworthy. He is worthy of my belief and trust. God promised in Exodus 33;14 "My presence will go with you and I will give you rest." What an incredible foundation on which I have to stand. So, bring on the house plans...because we're diving in! Lord, may we all believe you are present. Your word says that in your presence there is fullness of joy--may we experience the joy that gives us strength as we practise living in your presence. Lord, thank you that you are trustworthy and that you have given me the promise of your presence.