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Greater Love Has No One – A Tribute to A Beautiful Woman

I knew of an exceptionally pretty woman who was shy and slim with a round face, soft, sparkly brown eyes, a sweet and gentle smile, and just enough tiny freckles to make her prettiness look wholesome and fresh and young. She was smart and witty, had the most beautiful singing voice and in spite of being shy, had caught the attention of plenty of guys.

In time she fell in love with a kind young man with genuine, humble character and love for God that she could wholeheartedly admire and before long, they were married. Young and poor they were making the big decisions of what direction they would go with their lives. She could have pursued her music career (there was great opportunity and invitation) but instead she moved out, away from her family and friends to the middle of nowhere where her husband had been offered a small town teaching position. He was eager to sacrifice of himself to work hard to provide for his bride, and she was eager to go anywhere with him.

Before long, their family of two became a family of five and she learned to work harder and in more challenging conditions than ever before. She learned to churn her own butter and many other things to make a small teacher’s salary stretch to meet many needs. She learned the exercise of setting aside her own preferences to care for the needs of her family. Her soft, pretty hands became rough and sore from washing diapers and there wasn’t money for pretty new clothes. Gradually, and with a painful sense of loss, she let go of her dreams of doing what she loved and was admired for, her beautiful singing. Instead, in her small corner where no one could see, she chose to set her heart on a Savior who had sacrificed all for her and, as she faced the very real struggles in her life she turned her heart from what she was giving up and focused it in the direction of her little family. She embraced dying to herself. Then, with that beautiful voice, she sang of her Savior to her babies.

Three children grew to four, then four to five, and before long there were seven. Her waist was no longer as trim, her fresh young face was a little more wrinkled and tired, but it is impossible to love deeply without sacrifice, and in the sacrifice the pretty woman was developing beauty more lovely than ever before. And still, she quietly worked and served, day in and day out. She began her days with opening her Bible, looking to her Heavenly Father for the strength to meet the tasks before her. No one could count the billions of dishes that she washed, or the snotty little noses that she wiped, the dirty little feet that she bathed, the hurts that she tended to, the tears that she wiped away, the troubles that she listened to and sympathized with, the words of comfort and wisdom that she shared. She did it all for love. Love for her Savior and his beautiful example, and love for His little ones. She was not perfect, but being a humble woman she would’ve been the first to say so. She was not too good to let her children see her flaws nor too proud to apologize for them. But in spite of times of failure , she continued to love and mother them, praying that God would raise them in spite of her failures. He proved Himself not only attentive to her prayers but also lovingly filled her one of the most deeply joyful women I know. She did not give of the leftover corners of her life that remained after she had chased her dreams. She loved them with her life, and they all knew it. The song of her Savior was woven all throughout each their lives and now spills it’s beautiful notes into a new generation.

She is my mother. And as I sit here today with my four little people around me, tears fill my own eyes over the love and sacrifice that was spent on me that I didn’t deserve but deeply needed. Even now in her grandma years she continues to give richly of herself and wherever she goes, life, warmth and a Savior’s love are sure to be found.

When I’ve heard statements like “do what makes you happy” or “chase your dreams” or when I’ve been asked questions like “aren’t you afraid you might be missing out on your full potential?” I understand the kind care or concern being expressed behind those words, but when I think of my mother’s lovely example, I want to fight the urge inside of me to order my life for myself. I knew a woman who did not live for herself, but chose instead to follow her Savior’s example and she is my hero. What a fool I would be if I despised her truly beautiful example. She taught me what the words in John 15:13 can look like when it says:

“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.”

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Planted by Rivers

“Do you ever feel like when you think about it, it’s just kind of shocking that we’re doing fine?”

It was about a year ago now but I still remember the conversation vividly. My husband was working on a sermon that he’d be sharing on Sunday and had come up from his office for a brain break and a cup of coffee. We continued our conversation comparing thoughts about how we could go through things that had been so devastating and still God had brought us out of it to a place where life was good and we were okay. We still marvel at the fact that here we are! Our life is not by any means clouded in misery. We have wonderful joy filled days and plenty of normal days in between. We’re not devastated. We’ve been lifted up. Our hearts are not heavy and we can enter into the joyful things in life again wholeheartedly. God has filled our arms with new treasures every bit as sweet and precious as the ones we had to say goodbye to. We’ve been restored more than we ever could’ve imagined at the lowest points of our sadness. God has shown Himself strong enough to carry us through. We have been brought out of the valley and can look back from where we stand on the other side more confident than ever in the goodness and power of who our God is. He did not leave us even for a moment. He was here every step of the way.

Losing our first daughter the day after she was born had been a nightmare. A couple of years later, after we suffered through some pretty traumatizing complications with the pregnancy of our second little girl, she too passed away in utero. Did we shut off our hearts? Had we become dull to the hurt? Are we somehow some sort of amazing couple that is just built to bear up under hard things? Certainly not. We were devastated and I can’t even describe the soul weariness and grief that filled us. We’d already had “our share of suffering” and facing another loss felt like a punch in the stomach. How on earth could we endure? We longed for our little girls so much. How could we live through it all over again when we were just finally starting to feel like life could go on?

Why do I even share all of this? It’s not really something I want to go on and on about. I share it simply because we’re not the only ones who’ve had to face things. Maybe you’ve felt like difficulty or heartbreak have come in waves. Life comes with hardship already and now on top of it the whole world seems to have turned upside down overnight due to Covid-19. It feels like either anxiety, fear, anger or sadness are pretty much everywhere. Whether it’s concern for those you love, difficulty with your own health or livelihood, frustration with the powers that be, loss that has already happened, loneliness, or something else, it’s just been rough all around. It’s a new wave of difficulty that we’ve never dealt with before and the isolation has the potential to make existing heavy things so much heavier. Of course we know in our hearts that we’ve always been mortal. Every day that we live has always been a gift. Being alive always comes with some dangers. Loving someone always comes with a risk of having our hearts broken if we lose them. And still we want to love and live as human beings. What’s to be done though when we have to face new waves of brokenness as part of being human? How do we grow instead of crumple? How do we let our roots dig down deeper rather than let our tree topple over when the wind blows hard and we don’t know how bad the storm is going to get? And how do we do that when we’re feeling alone and vulnerable? Honestly I can’t say that I know. My thirty years are a pretty limited amount of life experience. Maybe it’ll be something we learn together in different ways. Maybe God is giving us this quiet time to get by ourselves, think about important things, and search out what we need as an anchor for our hearts.

I would like to share one passage though that I believe God has used to begin to teach me what I should do when my heart is overwhelmed by difficulty.

Matthew 11:25-30 says:

At that time Jesus declared, “I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will. All things have been handed over to me by my Father, and no one knows the Son except the Father, and no one knows the Father except the Son and anyone to whom the Son chooses to reveal him. Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.”

We don’t have to be theologians or super smart people. Instead, according to these verses he’s looking for those who can come like little children. If we are willing to do that, I believe God is waiting in the midst of our struggle to turn it into an opportunity to show us His tender kindness and strength in a way that we’ve never seen it before and in a way that some will never see it.

It seems to me as if the Lord were reminding me in those words to come near as His little child that he loves so much. He wants to demonstrate what kind of a Father He is toward me right now. He understands that I am getting worn out with the weight of life and He is waiting to shoulder it with me. He will ease the heaviness off of my shoulders and give me rest if I will simply choose to walk with Him. He wants me to know the truth, that I am not alone.

One of my boys has struggled with night terrors. He would cry so hard and sometimes shout out “no!” in his sleep. When I would try to hold him and comfort him he would often become more upset, thrashing and crying harder, struggling against me. He couldn’t even recognize me. If I could wake him up a little he would realize it’s mommy and he would suddenly become calm in my arms, snuggle in and let me wipe his little tears away so he could sleep again.

He has become such a vivid picture to me. If I choose to shake my fist at God, hardening myself against Him and blaming Him I do not make anything better. I do not lessen the difficulty.  I do not receive any clarity. Instead I add to my pain, anger, bitterness, deep loneliness, hopelessness, and the choosing of a place where I cannot be healed.  I am half asleep. I will not look up and see who He is.

If I could only wake up, then I could recognize my Father who loves me and know that I can bring the rawness of my hardship to Him. He already understands and knows me inside out so that gives me courage and freedom to bring it with all of its confusion and messy feelings and let Him show me who He is and how He can help me. If I will wake up I will find that I’m held in the arms of the One who has always loved me,  has promised to never leave me or forsake me, the One who has held me while I have wept my most bitter tears and wept with me, and then so tenderly dried my tears and healed my heart when I felt like that could never happen. He is my Father. In all of human history He has never failed to be faithful and good, no matter how awful things got. He’s not about to start now when I need Him most. Some day He can show me the full picture of how he was working redemption through all of this brokenness.

Inside I’ve felt like saying, are you sure God? Do you want to be yoked together with me? I’m pretty sure I’d make a weak and stubborn little ox. This difficulty has brought out some pretty ugly things in me and I come with an awful lot of heavy things.” But the promise is there in James 4:8 “draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” And so I say yes! Please! I need Him to shoulder the weight with me. It is too much for me. I want to be yoked with Him, side by side for all of my life. I want to be the little child who knows Him and trusts him with my heaviest things that my heart cannot bear alone. I need Him. He is strong toward me. The weightiness is lifted to His shoulders and as I lean close I find the rest my soul craves in the One who loves me unwaveringly. I can open my Bible, and read the words that He wrote for me to read and learn Him. In that place near His side I will find:

▪️Life (Psalm 119:50)

▪️Comfort for my heart (2 Corinthians 1:4) that can fill my need and grow to reach beyond me to others

▪️Peace (John 14:27)

▪️Hope (Psalm 39:7 Lamentations 3:22- 24),

▪️Provision (Psalm 111:5)

And if I don’t find all of those things right away, I can stay near His side and in His word until I see his promises proven true  (Isaiah 40:31) and wait as He faithfully renews my strength so that I can mount up and fly once again.

Psalm 62:8 Trust in Him at all times, o people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us.

Psalm 32:10 Many are the sorrows of the wicked, but steadfast love surrounds the one who trusts in the Lord.

Isaiah 30:18 Therefore the Lord waits to be gracious to you, and therefore he exalts himself to show mercy to you. For the Lord is a God of justice; blessed are all those who wait for him.

Psalm 1:2-3 But his delight is in the law of the Lord, and in His law he meditates day and night. He shall be like a tree planted by the rivers of water, that brings forth its fruit in its season, whose leaf also shall not wither; and whatever he does shall prosper.

 

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Waiting in Silence

I woke up with my heart racing. Another awful dream that seemed way too real. Since losing my daughter and becoming pregnant again it has felt like an endless cycle of longing, grief, hope, joy and fear. Longing for a little person to fill arms again, grief that it won’t be Ada, clinging to the hope that the day I get to treasure a new little soul would come soon, joy and so much thankfulness when I feel those precious kicks, and fear that my high risk pregnancy will end in heartbreak again. How exhausting to try to be patient through this!

I hate waiting. It’s not a problem if it’s a short wait for something good that I know is coming (like Christmas). I hate the long, drawn out, unpleasant kind of waiting where what you wait for is uncertain and the waiting period holds so much emotional upheaval. If I could, I’d pack all the unpleasantness in one condensed chunk so that I could endure it quickly and move on to something better and more hopeful right away. Lasting struggle or lingering suffering is so wearying. I’m sure the struggle of waiting hits us all in different ways. If you know it, I suspect you also know how tiring it can be to pray for relief, to wait, and to wonder how much longer until it comes. Maybe your struggle is disappointment, sorrow, fear, the monotony of life, loneliness or something else. No matter what it is, it’s hard to face that which lasts indefinitely. But I firmly believe that if I’ve got to face seasons like this, there is good that God has for me to discover as I do.

The story of Simeon and his example has been close to my heart over the last weeks. Here’s a man who waited! Most of his life was waiting. He was born into a waiting period in history. The waiting for hope: the long, silent stretch of time before the Messiah came. The gap in time where the Bible didn’t record any communication from God to man. How wearying it must have been. It says in Luke that he was “waiting for the consolation of Israel.” Waiting for consolation! There’s an ache and longing in that kind of waiting. I have found the tiny story of Simeon to be a very rich legacy of encouragement for anyone who waits on God though.

Luke 2:25-32
And behold, there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon, and this man was just and devout, waiting for the Consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. And it had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death before he had seen the Lord’s Christ. So he came by the Spirit into the temple. And when the parents brought in the Child Jesus, to do for Him according to the custom of the law, he took Him up in his arms and blessed God and said:

“Lord, now You are letting Your servant depart in peace,
According to Your word;
For my eyes have seen Your salvation
Which You have prepared before the face of all peoples,
A light to bring revelation to the Gentiles,
And the glory of Your people Israel.”

His example is beautiful and there are pieces for me to cling to right now. It would seem that Simeon used waiting to direct his heart towards God in some very specific ways.

1. Devotion
In spite of the silence, in spite of the length of waiting, the choice can be made to be “just and devout” before God. Simeon chose to draw near and cling to God in the silence. He refused to give up and abandon His way. I can do that too.

2. Counting God Faithful
If I struggle with the uncertainty of what I hope for, maybe it’s time to broaden my hope. Simeon could have hoped for relief from the Romans. That’s what many Israelites were hoping for to console them. Instead, he simply waited for the consolation that God would bring. Maybe he knew that what God chose to use to console His people would be perfect. I can broaden my hope to something certain; the faithfulness of God to bring good in the best form possible. He let Simeon know that He had great goodness in store that he would get see in his lifetime. Simeon hung his hope on a God who would follow through perfectly.

3. Drawing Near
It says that on the day he was to meet Christ, Simeon came by the Spirit into the temple. This would suggest to me that he was not distant from God. The Lord was leading Simeon and Simeon was following. He was staying where he needed to be to recognize the good when it came. He was growing in understanding of God so that he would be able to recognize different facets of blessing in His Gift.

Simeon came through on the other side of the waiting to some beautiful discoveries that are still true for me.

1. The Wait is Always Worth It
Simeon was not only given the living breathing consolation that he longed for, he was given “peace,” in his heart and far reaching “hope” and “glory.” God gave extravagantly beyond what Simeon had hoped for!

2. It’s a Safe Thing to Wait for God to Bring Good
Safe? Yes, absolutely! I can know that because I can know and grow in understanding of God’s good character. Even if I don’t know what that good will be, James says; “every good gift and every perfect gift is from above and comes down from the Father of lights with Whom there is NO variation or shadow of turning.” It’ll be nothing short of perfect! What Simeon says has absolutely no hint or glint of disappointment. God is the giver of good! His plan is always for good for those who follow Him. Who could possibly stand in his way when He has determined to bring goodness?

Along with Simeon’s story, a little memory has been playing on my mind too. A few months ago before the ground was frozen, my sister in law came over to help me plant bulbs. My knowledge of gardening is next to null so I was thankful for her expertise. We dug the holes deep enough to help keep them safe from a late spring freeze or hungry squirrels but not so deep that they would not be able to push through the dirt. As we dropped the little onion-like balls into place, I asked her if it mattered which side was up. She told me that one of the fascinating things about bulbs is that once planted, they turned themselves in the dirt to be in the perfect position to grow. Gravity helps them shift. Amazing!

I have thought often of my dry crackled little bulbs down there in the hard frozen soil. They’re not so different from me. I hate being in the dark, it’s messy, its cold and the dirt is heavy against me, I sometimes feel alone, and the beauty of next spring is only something I’ve heard of. I’ve never seen even a glimpse of it, and I have no idea when it might finally come or what might lie in my path between now and then!

But there is glorious and beautiful potential for good if I let the gravity of the place I am in turn me toward the Light: the Light of God’s nearness that has the life giving power to give me hope. I don’t have to. I could fight the dirt! I could resist the place I’m in, and though that may make me feel independent I suspect that will not get me to the good place intended for me, it’ll only leave me down in the dirt, messy and discouraged. His way is through. He has no intention of leaving me here. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil; for YOU are with me.” (Psalm 23:4) I will turn my crackled, tired, messy little self toward Him. He will be the One who can draw me up through the dirt (and yes, out of it) so that He can unfold that which endured the dark place into His intended place of beautiful glory!

Rows of ruffling peachy pink tulips, bunches of miniature daffodils glowing with sunny golden cheer, lacy pure white hyacinth, all bursting with beauty… That is what awaits my little bulbs. Someday not too terribly far from now they will make that final push through the dirt. They will reach their little sprouts ever upward and higher until at long last in the glow of early spring, they will burst open together under the gentle warmth of sunlight. Then those early spring breezes will whisper gently through their petals “now wasn’t that worth it?” That’s when it will be clear that the dirt was the best thing in the world for them to endure if it brought them to this! And that is just a little glimpse of the kind of glory that awaits when we but turn in the dirt and wait for His goodness to unfold!

“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“Therefore I hope in Him!”
The Lord is good to those who wait for Him,
To the soul who seeks Him.
It is good that one should hope and wait quietly
For the salvation of the Lord.
Lamentations 3:24-26

For since the beginning of the world
Men have not heard nor perceived by the ear,
Nor has the eye seen any God besides You,
Who acts for the one who waits for Him.
Isaiah 64:4

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When the Rescue Doesn’t Come

I’ve never felt a more desperate, sick feeling in my heart than did when the nurse came in so late that night and said that we needed to go down to the NICU right away to be with my daughter. Babies born after 32 weeks almost always survive and she had been doing so well!

Labor had been hard. I couldn’t walk yet, and as they pushed my wheelchair down that long hospital hall my heart cried out to God as it never had before, “No God, please save her little life!!”

I hadn’t gotten to hold her yet. They put her dainty little body in my arms and suddenly I felt so weak. Her face was perfectly sweet, her curly red hair was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. She was suffering and I could do nothing at all. I longed to die for her but I had no power to do that. I was helpless.

Did she even know I was her mommy? Did she know all of the aching love that filled our hearts that night as we watched her slip away? Did I really have to go back to my hospital room that night and listen to the baby in the next room cry? I prayed in the dark all throughout the night for a miracle, but none came.

I’d never been brought so low. Going home and looking at the future stretching out before me without her… I couldn’t imagine enduring such an awful thing. All my heart could do inside me was throb with the horrible realization that cried out in me “she’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone.” It felt like someone was taking a baseball bat and slamming it into my chest. I wanted to run away, I wanted to somehow ball up and escape the pain, to be rescued from it, but I knew I couldn’t be. With each blow it was as though I was bursting and ripping apart with pain that no heart, no matter how strong, could contain. And there was something else, something I hadn’t expected, something that seemed to suck away all my energy and leave me weak and trembling. It was fear. I was afraid of facing the future without her, afraid as I thought of the long, long years that I would have to miss her. I ached for my little boy, afraid that he would grow up lonely without a little buddy to play with. I was afraid that my body couldn’t protect my babies, but would only leave my children vulnerable no matter how much I wanted to keep them safe. (Ethan had been premature, and then Ada was significantly more premature, and as a result was born weak and unable to fight off whatever it was that caused her death. How was I supposed to face it if things continued on the way they had been?) Then there was the fear that I could never feel happy again… Not really. My feelings told me that nothing could really bring me comfort or happiness except having her in my arms again, and that was something I could not hope for in this lifetime. It didn’t really matter if these fears may have been unreasonable. They were relentlessly real to me.

In that place, God met me. When I did not have the strength to lift up my head, He came near just like He promised He would. In that storm of awful pain that no one else could quite understand, He did. He had had to watch his son die too. He tenderly reminded my heart that He had not rescued His son because He had wanted me to have hope now for the little daughter that I had been unable to rescue. He had wanted me to see that there was victory over death, even my baby’s death. He wanted me to know and trust that He can comfort, and that when death defeats us and robs us of hope, He defeats death and gives hope back to us.

I remember one night that was especially hard, I prayed to Him and said “God, it seems like you’re cruel to let this happen when I begged You not to. Please show me that you’re not.”

He met me with love. He met me with understanding. He met me and made me know that I didn’t have to have “holy feelings” right now. He met me and didn’t make me feel like I had to rise above my circumstances in a spiritual façade. He met me and let me be honest and bare with Him. He met me each day with His precious word like a lifeline for my soul. He met me with the assurance that He is always good. He met me and reminded me that He hates sin, because sin has broken our world and causes horrible things like this to be possible. He met me and reminded me that this is not how He created things to be, that His work is to heal what is broken. He met me and reminded me that when I feel like what I hope for is gone (like the disciples on the road to Emmaus), that even then my Hope is walking with me.

He met me in tenderness. I knew it was tenderness because I knew that He had suffered unspeakably too.

He met me practically to care for my needs. Wonderful friends and loved ones brought food, sent gifts, and showed so much tenderness, concern and love (even after the shock faded away). He gave me a husband who would not leave me alone to suffer, no matter how long the healing took. He rallied tenderness around me in my family. He reminded me that my arms were not empty and there was a little boy needing love and care.

He helped me to see that even when He doesn’t rescue in the way I ask Him to, He still rescues. He convinced my heart again and again that He was good.

Why not in the way I asked? That might be something I’ll never know until heaven, but I think maybe He has given little pieces of understanding.

The first is that Christians are not immune to the brokenness of a sin-broken world just because we’re Christians. It will affect us. There is a part of me that is glad for this. What if that wasn’t the case? How could I ever share hope with someone who was suffering if I had been rescued from every suffering? It would be foolishness in their ears.

The second is the simple passage that says “but lay up for yourself treasures in heaven, where neither moth or rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” My heart has a new cord that draws me heavenward. My little treasure there is untouched now by the harm that always threatens here, and I am given both comfort and hope. I am given a constant reminder of the beautiful incorruptibility of heavenly treasures. It makes me long that all of my greatest treasures here will also be there one day and I pray for that often when I think of my son. If only his little soul could be drawn to the eternal hope that God offers to him… that hope that is incorruptible and free of harm. This is what I want to invest my heart in for his sake.

Last, suffering this has made one thing so real to me, it is my own weakness. All that I ever do, all that I muster, all that I work at, all the greatest advancements that I can reach, all of my power and strength come to an abrupt end in the face of death. It is so with all of us. You’ve probably heard the phrase “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.” In my case that was utter nonsense. What didn’t kill me made me realize that I am weak and I have no power in the face of death. I need Someone stronger than me in that place or I cannot face it. When that Someone is found, and when He shows me victory over death I can hope and rest safely again because not only do I discovered that there is such a One, but I discover that He is good. When my strength is spent He cares about me and He is the One who is able to carry me through.

Psalm 9:13 “Have mercy on me, O Lord! Consider my trouble from those who hate me, You who lift me up from the gates of death.”

Psalm 27:13-14 “I would have lost heart, unless I had believed That I would see the goodness of the Lord In the land of the living. Wait on the Lord; Be of good courage, And He shall strengthen your heart; Wait, I say, on the Lord!”