Empyrean Bestowal, Part II: Hope Revealed

A Visit from Red
To read Part I, click here!

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Within six feet, my foot slipped, and I hit the pebbly ground, slicing my hands, face, arms, and legs. I closed my eyes as I began to feel the familiar pain of sliding down a rocky slope. But wait, I wasn't sliding. I jerked my head up to see the Stranger holding on to one of my bloody, numbed hands. He pulled me up; I don't know how He did it. Somehow, He did not fall. Sooner than I expected, I stood before Him, though it was I who was panting, and not He.

 

He put His hand on my shoulder, and explained. "You can't do it yourself. Let Me lead, and you follow."

 

The road...it did not become easy of a sudden. The first ditches we mounted were ones I thought I knew to be insurmountable. He went before me, and somehow always gained the upper edge of the trench. Then, He would reach down for me. He'd pull me out the hole, and I know not how He managed to always do so, for the ditches were great.

I recognized many of these pitfalls. Most of them, on my downward, backsliding way, I had willingly slid into, thankful for a brief respite. Some, I know, were caused by my sliding. But one and all, both the ditches I had made and those I had fallen into, He pulled me out of. After every ditch and bramble, I found it easier to trust Him, grasping His hand with mine as He lifted me out from the depths. At first, I tried to hurry the process of getting up. Running, climbing or scurrying, up the ditches' side, I would inevitably fail. It was only when He was there to help me, and I let Him work with me, that I was able to mount those looming barriers. 

 

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At last, we reached a part in the road that slowly leveled out. Looking ahead, I saw before me a city of wondrous size resting upon the summit. Even from the distance yet before us, it shone like a lamp on a stand. As we journeyed nearer, time seemed to slow, so anxious was I to reach the Shining End. However, this last leg did not take long; although time seemed to last forever, only moments had passed before we stood beneath the jasper wall, in front of a gate fashioned of pearls. (There were three like it, and we entered by the middle). I was brought through it to the Palace of the King, along streets of gold. It is indescribable - the awesomeness of the city and the Palace within. But all grew dim - the gold, the sapphires, the emeralds, the countless other jewels and gems, the multitude of palace servants honoring the King - when I saw Him - the King of kings, the Lord of Lords, the Alpha and Omega - and the Lamb, seated at the right hand of God, Who left His throne above and gave His all for me.

 

I fell to my knees. What a Blessing I had received, without it belonging to me at all: that the King of the universe, the Creator of all, God Himself, came to me, that I might live with Him. He sent His Son down the path of life, to save me from my own destructive ways. "...Jesus Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the foremost." (I Timothy 1:15b). May I never forget this ultimate blessing, the Greatest of Ethereal Treasures!

Empyrean Bestowal, Part I: The Final Hope of Mundi Cursum

A Visit from Red

Ahhh, friends, what can I say to you about Josh, or "Red" as he is called in the blogging world? He's my friend and partner in crime adventure. He has impeccable taste in books and amazing potential with the violin. He's learning the bagpipes. He's attentive and generous. He's the guy who seats me at dinner each night, who will be in stitches with me over something nobody else in the room finds funny (their loss), who's game for just about anything, but who maintains a balance of common sense that some of us...require. What better way to wrap up this party than with a fabulous allegory he wrote? Be patient...Part II will appear on Monday. :)

Allow me the pleasure of introducing my 15-year-old brother, Red.

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I was on Mundi Cursum, travelling like the rest. The downward slope was not too great, but at times I would find myself losing my foot hold. At other times, I would collapse into one of the deep ditches, scattered on the road at frequent intervals. This was not as bad as it may seem at first; for, while the ditch's top would be parallel to the road, the road's great slant allowed a certain ease in exiting these ditches. Naturally, one climbed out on the side that led to the down-going road, for it was impossible to climb up the slope. I had seen some try, and even tried myself; but climbing only threw the person further down the path, with a cascade of dirt and rocks following him. All who tried never, ever succeeded...at least, any of the individuals I'd seen.

 

There were many beliefs about where the road led. Some asserted that it led to a luscious plain, just beyond the thick fog (the fog - such a strange aroma it held...). Others thought that at the bottom of this hill was another hill, and another, and another, until one could find a way to extricate himself from this endless journey. Still others believed that we would die on the trail, and that would be it. These - mostly hopeless - beliefs drove many to attempt the climb upward, but after the inevitable failure, the upward trek seemed evermore unfeasible.

 

We could not exit the path off to the side, for a wide, deep ditch filled with bramble as long as a man flanked the path. More than likely, some had ventured to cross the ditch, but I did not know any who were so foolish. Death certainly met those who tried. The situation was fatally grim. Some, in desperation, threw themselves forward, hoping to reach the end before they died. Their cries were the last we heard of them. I just wanted to get somewhere, and in my youth firmly believed in a "better place;" but years of aimless, tiresome, and endless travelling changed that; I, too, no longer contested, but confirmed, the assertion that the path was meaningless.

 

That's when I met Him.

 

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He looked like the rest. Apparently, He wasn't an able climber...that's what I first thought. Cuts, bruises, and multiple wounds adorned Him. I had seen Him for some time, for instead of stumbling down the path with all, He was struggling upward. He paused at every person; His words were spoken earnestly, though gently, and never hurried. I saw those with whom He spoke look upward, back at Him, and then shake their heads, continuing their descent. Finally, I reached Him (or, He reached me...which is, I believe, the more proper verbiage).

 

"My son, do you care to travel upward?" He asked. I, like the others, turned my gaze to the path behind me.

 

"Why, Sir?"

 

His steadfast gaze held mine as He answered. "Because this road leads to death. Upward leads to life." Again, I glanced to the towering slope, which appeared to have a sharper incline, more pits, and greater brambles. Many of the ditches spanned the whole road. They would be impossible to climb out of, if one attempted the feat.

 

"Can You...how will You bring me up?" I had seen some try. All had failed. For an answer, His steady, kind eyes held mine. With that, I did not need any other answer: I knew that this Man had the ability to make it to the top. I, exhausted of this road, the falling, the cuts, summoned the resolve to grasp this final straw of hope. My head sank in acknowledgement, and I turned my back on the Cursum's plummet.



If I Could Bless You ~ A Visit from Mikaela

We met a little over 22 years ago. I was cramped and content in a small, dark place, and she, or rather, her voice, floated somewhere beyond the confines of all I knew. I wanted to meet her! Months passed, multiplying my age, and at last we looked upon each other's faces.

 

We were both rather unimpressed. 

 

I had to learn to walk, and to want to play, but even so it was settled {and obvious} very early on: God had picked us out to be the best of friends. Since then, simply, we have been. Dear readers, meet Mikaela. Book addict, music teacher, fabulous bread-maker, and veritable source of knowledge on just about any subject her life touches (seems that way to me, at least) ~ she co-blogs with Lauren at One Bright Corner. Her writing and insights are always a blessing to me, as I hope they are to you, today. Meet Mika!

"Mikaela, I heard the most amazing song at the conference in Texas!" Mama told me shortly after she had flown home. I couldn't have been more than twelve, and I don't remember anything she relayed to me about the content of the conference - except the amazing song she had heard. She ordered the music and a CD of it right away, and our family heard "The Blessing Song" by Dennis Jernigan for the first time.

May the Lord answer you in the day of your trouble;

May the name of the Lord be your strong mighty tower.

May He grant you your heart's deepest dreams and desires;

May He answer you each time you call.

Several years later, the young people of my church learned this song. We practiced and prepared. We knew the words, the melodies, the harmonies. Nevertheless, the spirit of the song I didn't understand until we were there on stage singing for 100 people. And suddenly, I was overwhelmed as I sang out a blessing with my fellow brothers and sisters in Christ to my brothers and sisters in Christ. There was nary a dry eye in the church - and the Holy Spirit was moving.

May He pour out the blessing of heaven;

May you cast your cares on Him and daily fall.

May you live to see your children's children;

May the Lord Jesus be your All in All.

As a family, we sang "The Blessing Song" for Mama on her 40th birthday and for Grandpa on his 70th birthday. Imperfect voices, earnestly voicing every word.

 

May the Lord Jesus Christ satisfy beyond all measure;

May His Word light your path; may His peace guard your heart.

May your days be filled with gladness, joy and peace through any sadness;

Filled with love that will not depart.

Then, in 2011, we huddled together in a hospital room. Bobcha was dying, and we were saying our good-byes, knowing that after we left and drove the 360 miles separating our home from her hospital, that we would never see her again on this earth. So we sang a blessing to her. We broke and we cried - we hardly made it through - but we sang those words so familiar to us by now.

 

May your strength be renewed like the eagle;

As you run the race may joy flood every part.

May your memories all be sweet in each parting;

May the peace of Christ rule in your heart.

 

Last year, our family went through many trials. And suddenly, in God's sovereign plan, Mama was in Georgia preparing for surgery, and the six of us kids were home. Praying. Wishing we could be there to hold her hand. Worrying. Wishing we could be there to kiss her before she went in to surgery. Praying. And wishing some more. So, the night before her surgery, we sat down and recorded ourselves singing "The Blessing Song" with honest, raw tears streaming down our faces and sent the video to Mama. We were singing about life and joy and God's mercies and goodness when we were verily in the midst of trouble, pain, and hardship.

 

May His Word be to you health and life, joy and treasure;

May your home be a light; may the Lord guard your ways.

May the Lord be your shepherd;

May His goodness and mercy follow after you all your days!

 

Many of these words are taken directly from Scripture (such as Psalm 20), but they're no magic incantation. This is no blessing of prosperity and ease. This is the blessing of martyrdom and family and most of all communion with God Almighty that triumphs over any weakness, desperate circumstance, or real-life nightmare. This is the power of blessing someone in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ.

 

May His mercies be new every morning;

May His grace and Holy Spirit help you stand.

May you live your life to die for the gospel;

May you hold to His unchanging hand!

 

Have you given a blessing to someone? Through song, words, or prayer? Bless and be blessed, for the giver of the blessing is just as blessed as the recipient.

 

May the Lord answer you in the day of your trouble;

May the name of the Lord be your strong and mighty tower.

may He grand you your heart's deepest dreams and desires;

May He answer each time you call.

May He answer each time you call.

Beauty from Ashes ~ A Visit from Kaytra

If I had to choose one person for whom this was true

It would be this girl.


Seriously. Whether we're studying Scripture, planning parties, or discussing C.S. Lewis, I can guarantee two things: tea, and laughter. Kaytra is a "PK, lover of tea and chunky sweaters, and an avid traveller." She also happens to be one of my dearest friends, and blogs happy thoughts at scraps of reality. Since age 13, she has had continual health challenges, but as she continues to seek the LORD and His blessings, she continues to be an encouragement and inspiration to those around her. Ladies and gentlemen, here's Kaytch!

Have you ever felt like you’re the only one going through a trial or temptation, and no one could possibly understand what your experiencing, even if they tried? Do you ever give up praying because you don't know how to talk to your Father about your inner intestine and bowels? {yes i just said that}
 

Have you ever looked into your fridge and slammed it shut because you are so discouraged because 99.9 percent of anything good in there is not digestible to you and will make you feel like you’re going to collapse at any moment from being lightheaded, bloated, inflamed and miserable? 

{i forget to add commas generally when i am venting.}

 

Have you ever cried out to the Lord asking Him, "Why me?!" 

"Why this?" 

"Why now?"

 

I feel like i am in a marathon, and although i have already crossed the finish line, i can't stop because i realize that i'm chained to a treadmill. 

{i need to work on my metaphors}
 

Sometimes i am so discouraged that i just decide not to eat at all, which leads to a "nasty Kaytra," which leads to hurting peoples feelings and more importantly hurting God.

 

Because He is there, He knows me, and He has designed me this way. 

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"Let affliction come~God has chosen me. Poverty, you may stride in at my door, but God is in the house already, and He has chosen me. Sickness, you may intrude, but I have balsam ready~God has chosen me. Whatever befalls me in this vale of tears, I know that He has "chosen" me."

I read this about an hour ago, and I just started weeping.

 

I was chosen for affliction.

 

This broken and disease-ridden body of mine was chosen ~ to fulfill His purposes.

 

Not mine. He has chosen me for affliction, and i so desperately want to be worthy of that choice.

 

I know now that suffering is a not a sin. It is a precious opportunity, and one that i do not want to miss.

 

It is His choice of blessing for my life. Because often, hidden blessings take on an ugly and hideous disguise. 

 

Someday, I believe, God will eventually remove the layers of that disguise so that I can truly see how He used my IBS for His glory and for my good.

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"For I know the plans that I have for you, says the Lord, plans for welfare and peace and not for evil, to give you hope in your final outcome." ~Jeremiah 29:11

 

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"Through floods and flames, if Jesus lead, I'll follow where He goes."

"Blessed Are..." ~ A Visit from Jennifer



Uncle David & Aunt Jenn

Before the role models of babysitters, teachers, and professionals-of-your-sphere, there are, and ever shall be, aunts. "Tante Jenn" - travelling all the way from Loches, France for our party this week - is just such an example. With a contagious joy in life, a wonderful laugh, and a beautiful story of obedience to the Lord {she & my uncle & two cousins left their 'normal' lives & newly-remodelled dream house in the states to become missionaries}, I treasure every conversation we have {even more so, now that she lives half-way across the world!}. She blogs about the lessons, joys, and challenges {and sometimes good ol' funny stories} of ministering in a different culture over at Four For France.

 

Friends, allow me to introduce my aunt, Jennifer.

Do you have one of those friends for whom everything always seems to go well? I do.

She lives in a big house that is delightfully decorated. She has three bright-eyed children and a hard-working, faithful husband. She is popular, fit, and cute to boot. She is the type who plans out her life months, sometimes years in advance, and nothing ever seems to interfere with her agenda. She has a warm and open personality, a joyful countenance, and a deep love for Jesus. By her own admittance, she has never really suffered.

So it seemed the most natural thing in the world to me when she blithely stated, "I'm just so blessed."

Yet, when she said it, my heart beat seemed to grow heavy. I squinted, trying to assess my recoil. While I believe her statement was an expression of genuine gratitude, something about it chaffed. Finally, gently, I whispered, "People who suffer are blessed, too."

"Oh, I know," she said, a little too quickly, and on we went to other subjects.

Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

I can't stop thinking about that brief conversation. I wonder if there is a disconnect in our understanding of blessing. What does it mean to be blessed?

According to the dictionary, it means "divinely favored." But it can also mean "blissfully happy."

 

Blessed are those who mourn, for they shall be comforted.

I know that every good gift is from above, and indeed, the pleasing circumstances of my life are blessings. But if I stop there, might that be too narrow of a view? Isn't it also true that God blesses us in and through challenging circumstances?

And while I don't think we need to go looking for trouble or inviting disaster into our lives, I do sometimes wonder if our relentless pursuit of our own comfort and glory could be barriers, rather than pathways, to blessing.

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.

What if I chose the "discomfort" of living in a smaller house so that I might be more generous? What if I sought opportunities to serve others so that I might be more humble? what if I turned the other cheek instead of defending my "rights"? What if I demonstrated love to someone who treats me with indifference or even hatred? Do I need to wait for calamity to come to me in order to experience the blessings that Jesus speaks about in Matthew 5? Or could it be my calling to engage in suffering no matter my circumstances?

 

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for they shall be satisfied.