Who Do You Think I Am?

I've just begun reading in Job for my morning quiet time. A part of me wants to yell, "Run, Job! You have NO idea what's coming!!" Good ole' righteous, upstanding Job. Good ole' Job with 7 sons and 3 daughters. Good ole' Job with thousands of sheep, camels, donkeys and oxen. Good ole' Job. He did everything just like he was supposed to ... and still he lost it all. Every single bit of it, plus some.

This is the part of the story where many of us would say, "I did my part, God. Where in the heck were You?"

Job suffered tremendously. He lost all 10 of his children, all of his wealth, and many of his servants and belongings in one day. A short time later, his hurting and grieving wife turned on him, and he lost his health and was on the brink of death. Good ole' righteous, upstanding Job. Good ole' Job who had done everything just like he was supposed to.

God allowed for it all to be taken away.

And what does Job say? My rough summary of the many chapters of Job's discourse: My eye has seen this. My ear has understood it. I did what I was supposed to do. I'm not being punished because I haven't done anything wrong. But sovereign God has done this, and I demand to know why.

The amazing part is that Job holds on to the sovereignty of God like a lifeline.

Have you ever been water skiing and fallen off the skis without letting go of the rope? I'm sure you're a better athlete and smarter person than I am. You can probably answer that question with a resounding no. But you're not me. Let me tell you -- when you're being pulled on the water face down by a speed boat, you eat lots and lots of water. Lots of it. It's really not very fun and will cause you to not want to water ski again. Ever.

That's what's happening to Job here. He's lost his skis. He's fallen flat on his face and is being pulled through the chopping waves of the waters. Drowning. Being out of control. He doesn't get it. He doesn't like it. He doesn't understand. Through it all, however, Job doesn't let go of his lifeline. He can't, because it's all he's got left.

But none of this makes sense. Job stands before God and demands to know what's going on. Where in the heck were You? Why didn't You do Your part? I'm hurting here, and You're not doing anything! I want to know why.

And instead of God thundering back at Job, "Who do you think you are?", He proceeds to show Job all of creation, all that He's done. "Where were you when I did all this, Job?" All wisdom, all might, all strength, all understanding -- all His. Job will never truly understand God and His workings.

Neither will I.

Where were you when I laid the foundations of the earth? Who sets the limits for the sea? Look at the stars. Did you place them in those exact positions? Do you cause the rain to fall on the grass that grows? Do you feed the ravens and make sure they have food? These are all mysteries to you, Job. You haven't done these things in the past. You won't do them in the future. You can't do any of it. But I can, God says.

In other words, there are millions of things going on in this world. Literally millions. Job didn't understand them, didn't know how they all worked. And neither do I. But God does. And, it's presumptuous for me to think I can tell God just exactly how He needs to be working.

What strikes me is the tenderness in all of this. It's as if God is whispering "Who do you think I am? Open your eyes. Really see Me."

I think that's the same thing He whispers to me every evening as He paints the sky in vivid oranges, pinks, and purples of the sunsets. It's the same thing He whispers to me as the slender stems of flowers push out from the ground, eager to bloom. It's the same thing He whispers to me when someone grievously wounds my heart and leaves me broken and bleeding by the wayside. It's the same thing He whispers to me when up seems down, inside seems outside, and right ways seems side ways. It's the same thing He whispers to me as I open my Bible every morning, run my hands over the well-worn, marked up pages, and seek Him there.

Who do you think I am?

There have been times of deep grief and no understanding. There have been (and probably will be) times of wanting God to explain and give me answers. Ultimately, it all comes down to this: God is God, and I am not. He is good. He is faithful, and I can trust Him even when I don't have responses or explanations.

May my words be like Job's: "My ears had heard of You, but now my eyes see You." I see You, Holy God. I see Your sovereignty, Your goodness. I don't need to understand. I don't need to approve. I just need to see You.

For Such A Time As This

One thing I know -- I absolutely LOVE God's Word. I love reading it over and over and over again. There's always something perfect, just for me, and I can't help but want to share it with other people. So, if you're reading this, I want to share with you what I've been reading from Esther.

Haman (boo! hiss! the villain of this story) had been promoted above all of the officials in the kingdom. Obviously this promotion had gone to his head, and he was wanting people to bow down and pay homage to him. This isn't your typical brown-nosing, but it was to give Haman deity, to promote him to beyond-human status. Mordecai the Jew refused to bow. Haman was furious and determined to take care of the situation. 

So, he persuaded the Ahasuerus (the Persian word for king) to sign an edict to "destroy, kill, annihilate" (the Bible's words) ALL of the Jews. Not just Mordecai, but all of his people as well. Haman told a partial truth and twisted it. The Jews are a different type of people with different laws (truth), and they won't keep the king's laws (untruth). Haman's answer was to "kill them, we'll take all their stuff, and I'll pay 10,000 talents of silver to the folks who carry out this business". Xerxes (the king) agreed because ... whatever. He was king and had better things to do, and if he wound up with plunder, even better.

The thing is, when a Persian king issued a law, nothing could erase that law. The king was even unable to go back and change it. It stood firm. So, every single Jew under the rule of the Persian king (which was ALL of them) was facing a death sentence. A huge, insurmountable, impossible thing was before them ... and there was literally nothing they could do about it. And the edict was that this mass killing of a race of people would happen in a year's time. 

I'm sure all of hell celebrated because not only was the enemy getting to destroy all of God's precious people, but Satan's grand plan to wipe out the line of Judah, and the eventual Messiah looked like it was really going to happen. If the book of Esther ended at chapter 3, we'd see that evil would win and there would be no hope for any of us ...ever. 

But there's more to the story! 

Just like there's more to YOUR story. 

There might be huge, insurmountable, impossible obstacles in your situation right now. Satan might think he has you beat. He and his cronies might be planning a huge party of celebration. He might have you feeling like things are hopeless. 

But God!!! 

Esther's story didn't end in chapter 3. The crux of the matter is seen clearly in chapter 4 and verse 14: "For if you keep silent at this time, relief and deliverance will rise for the Jews from another place, but you and your father's house will perish. And who knows whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?" 

Those huge obstacles in your situation? They might not look like they're going anywhere. Only God knows how all of this story is going to unfold. But this I know. This you can take to the bank. This you can count on. Our God is sovereign. He is not unaware. He is so very, very good. Esther was where she was for a reason, for a purpose. And you, my friend, are too. 

"For such a time as this". Not just the numbers and hands on a clock. Not just a date on a calendar. But the moment that everything has fallen in to place. The instant when all of the planning and preparation is ready. This moment. This instant. This time. Not luck. Not happenstance. Not "this time is as good as any". God's perfect, appointed time.

Our God is working. Our God has a plan ... and His plan includes your good and His glory! Let's lift our eyes today to the One who is sovereign, who is good, who sees the next chapter, who knows how this story is going to end. Let's focus on Him and trust that He knows what He's doing even when we don't. He's still writing our story too! 

P.S. Read the rest of Esther! The good guys win ...

Sunday School Answer?

I had a sweet friend ask me the other day what she should have done about a specific situation. I had been through something similar, so she was hoping I'd have something brilliant to say about her circumstances. I would have loved to impress her with my intelligence and the perfect answer, but all I knew to say was "Jesus".I think that's the one major thing I learned while I was dealing with my own grief and confusion while I walked through circumstances so like hers. I so desperately wanted to fix it, so frantically wanted to make the pain go away. And I prayed often to that end.

God had other ideas.

So, I did what the only thing was that I could think of to do. Honestly, it wasn't that I was being deeply spiritual or incredibly mature, but I was absolutely and totally broken. There was nothing left in me -- no resources, no strength, no wisdom. I determined to look at Jesus as often as my mind would go there. When I was unsure about something, I'd look to Him ... and pray. When I was fearful about something, I'd look to Him ... and pray. When I was angry, or grieving, or happy, or hopeful, I'd look to Him ... and pray. I would take my eyes off of the pain surrounding me and put them squarely on the Lord before me. It was all I was capable of doing.

My situation wasn't corrected overnight. In fact, it was years before I saw any type of difference in the circumstances around me. But, I noticed something interesting during this journey. As long as I prayed and talked with Jesus about what was going on in my life, as long as I gave Him my fears and trusted His care, as long as I waited for His leading and direction, there were changes in me. No changes around me. No softening of the brokenness around me. But changes in me...

I began to see that His voice was more recognizable to me. I didn't have to question whose voice I was hearing, or what the truth was. I recognized it because Jesus and I had spent so much time together in His Word and in prayer. My soul was hungry, greedily so, to draw closer to Him, to learn more of Him, to be more intimate with Him. And the awesome part? He was just fine with all of that!

I always used to laugh at the Sunday school answer of "Jesus". Ask any of these questions in Sunday school and this would be the scenario: "Who's your best friend? Jesus! What do you want more than anything else in the world? Jesus! What is the answer when you're scared? Jesus!"

But, you know what? All of those answers were true and still very much are. He's not just a Sunday school answer -- not just a pat, routine response. The truth is, He is everything I need, everything I want, everything. Period. The storm around me wasn't quieted ... but I was. The brokenness around me wasn't restored ... but I was. I didn't suddenly have wisdom and know what to do in every bit of the journey ... but I knew someone who did. I didn't have control or knowledge of what was ahead ... but I knew someone who did.

Jesus.

Sunday school answer? Maybe so. But for me, He's the only answer.

Gracie

Meet Gracie.

We met Gracie 12 years ago quite by accident. She was living with a farmer who decided he didn't like her anymore, so he decided to shoot her. Something about her chasing cattle or something like that. If you knew Gracie like I know Gracie, you'd know that couldn't possibly be true. She was scared of her own shadow! Anyway, our youngest son thought that was absolutely horrible, so he brought her to our house so we could find her another home, since we already had 2 dogs living here at the time. The picture above? It was Gracie eating in our kitchen about 4 years ago. She never left. Not because we couldn't find a home for her, but because we turned down offers when people asked for her.

A rescue dog. Saved by grace. That's how she got her name. It wasn't that she was graceful (look how she's sitting!). But her life story is one of grace, and every time we said her name, we were reminded of the fact that she was rescued, saved, chosen, loved.

Gracie was the only female dog in a household of male dogs. There have been 5 male dogs that have been here at one time or the other ... and all of them acknowledged that Gracie was queen. She wasn't the loudest. She wasn't the strongest. She wasn't the fastest. But she was queen.

When Gracie first got to our home, she was about 2. She had been an outdoor dog, but took to living

in a nice, warm house immediately. She loved her doggy bed and blanket. She loved having her back scratched. She loved tiny dog biscuits and would do a little happy dance to get one. She loved rawhide bones and would remind us every night that it was time for her snack. She loved being with her people. She loved Pommer, our little Pug/Pomeranian puppy and she'd constantly clean his ears and eyes and groom him. She loved laying beside me -- and I can still can see her incredibly long eyelashes as she's laying on me, looking up at me. She loved barking at all of the male dogs, trying to get them to behave. She loved to be brushed. Well, that might be a stretch. I think it was more the attention that she loved than the brushing, but at least she'd put up with it.

Gracie hadn't been treated too well by the farmer where she had lived before. Loud noises and sudden moves scared her. One time, Wes crossed his leg and she flinched, like she thought he was going to kick her. People would come over to visit, and she'd hide, scared of anyone she didn't know. After 12 years of grandkids, Gracie would still hide under a chair when they'd come over, although they would patiently coax her out with a dog biscuit. Taking her to the vet or groomer would cause her to shake and she'd go in to a near panic.

Over the years, she relaxed a little bit, but never did she feel totally safe with people that weren't hers. And we were fine with that, because she had us so she was okay.

Gracie was my sweet girl puppy. Gracie Gray. Gracie Lou. Whatever she was called, she followed me from room to room. When I took a shower, she'd sleep outside the shower door until I emerged. When I cooked dinner, she laid behind a chair at the table. When I cleaned, she'd follow me and find a place to lay down in each room. When I'd have my devotions in the morning, she'd lay by my desk.

Yesterday, we were told by our vet that Gracie was dying. She had a large mass in her stomach, had lots incredible amounts of weight, was vomiting blood, and was so weak she couldn't move. We knew the best thing to do was to put her out of her misery and stop the suffering. As she was laying on the table at the vet's, she just stared at my face. Those big, brown eyes ringed with the long lashes never lost eye contact with me. No, she couldn't move. But, I was still her person ... and she was letting me know.

Our house has been lonely without her here. Her doggy bed and blanket in the living room look out of place. Her bowl has been strangely empty. When I would let Wylie in from the back yard, there was no Gracie excitedly dancing around, begging for a small dog treat. When I stepped out of the shower, I didn't have to watch to make sure she wasn't there.

And it has hurt.

Today, I was having my devotions -- no Gracie, just God and me. And I read a verse that jumped out at me: "When you were few in number and of little account..." from 1 Chronicles 16. My mind went to sweet Gracie. To the farmer, she was of little account, unimportant, rejected, abandoned. She meant nothing to him, but that didn't mean she was a nothing. That was a place where I could identify with Gracie because I had gone through the same thing -- of little account to some, but of precious value to Someone else. Both Gracie and I have gone through dark days of feeling alone and rejected.

But, we both were saved by grace. Gracie was rescued because someone saw her worth. Someone looked beyond to the precious little dog that she truly was. And me? I too was saved by grace. I too was loved, chosen, accepted and deemed of worth. Both of us were saved, received, and abundantly loved.

I'm going to miss my Gracie. She displayed some of God's characteristics -- loyalty, faithfulness, patience, grace. I can't help but think that she's running around the throne of heaven, following Jesus, sitting near Him just to be in His presence, hoping for a back scratch every now and then. She just likes to be with her people, and won't be any trouble. She's been a beautiful story of grace and mercy and reminds me that I'm just like her -- rescued and loved.

Gracie will always be a reminder to me of God and His grace to me. How grateful I am to have been her person.

It's Not Fair!

It doesn't take long as we go through life to see that we are born with a great sense of things needing to be fair. Children cry out that it's not fair that the oldest sibling gets to stay up later. Teenagers protest that a friend gets to go to an activity and they don't. People argue that it's not fair when they've done the right thing and someone else gets rich for being dishonest. I think it's unfair that my friend can eat chocolate and french fries and donuts and ice cream and potato chips and still be a skinny Minnie while I just look at those incredibly wonderful foods and balloon up another dress size. Life just doesn't seem fair ...

I was reading an "unfair" account this morning in my quiet time in 1 Kings 13. We have Jeroboam, a son of a slave who was given the kingdom of Israel and led the kingdom away in apostasy. His god is being king and he will do everything in his power to hang on to the kingship. We have a lying, deceitful prophet who caused someone else to stumble. And, we have a younger prophet who has done what God has asked him to do. However, the younger prophet listens to the lie of the older prophet and changes his path ... and winds up dying due to disobedience. Uhm, Jeroboam didn't immediately die in discipline for his sin of creating a false religion in Israel. The lying prophet didn't immediately die for his sin of deceiving someone else and leading to their destruction. But the younger prophet? The hammer fell on him. Talk about unfair!

All kinds of things go through my mind. What about the punishment of Jeroboam? What about the punishment of the lying prophet? The younger prophet winds up dead by the side of the road for all to see ... and these other two guys get away scott-free? As I read this story, I felt my flesh shaking a fist to God that "it's not fair!"

But His Spirit that lives within me whispers that I know Him. Let Him take me deeper in this story. Let Him open my eyes to justice, to fairness, keeping in mind His character and His goodness. Let Him teach me.

Immediately my mind went to a time when life appeared to be very unfair for me. In His Word and through His Spirit, God had told me to forgive the unforgiveable, to love the unloveable, to respect the disrespectable, to trust the untrustworthy. How unfair that was! How painful that was! And what about me? What about my feelings, my protection, my desires? What about the dark circumstances around me? Someone else was getting away with sin and destruction while I had to seemingly pay for it?

God spent 4+ years working in me, preparing me for this time. He showed me Who He was and His great love for me. He revealed who I was in Him. He taught me what love, respect, and trust truly were. Regardless of the circumstances around me, regardless of the difficulty of the task, I was called to walk in obedience to Him, in relationship with Him as we walked this tortuous road before us. His commands? Love -- regardless. Respect -- regardless. Obey -- regardless. Trust Him -- regardless.

It wasn't fair. I didn't like it.

Here's where it gets really interesting though. Every single time I "did the right thing" in spite of my feelings or desires, every time I obeyed in spite of the circumstances around me, God blessed me. Not in the ways I had been expecting or wanting, but even greater blessings that I had thought possible. And the most amazing thing? I learned. I learned that:

• what often seems fair to me is short-sighted. It's not seeing deeply enough. 
• God knows better than I do the way life should be lived.
• once God speaks to me, I cling to that as absolute unless He speaks differently later.
• I take all thoughts captive and present them to Him for verification and clarity.
• I am a part of God's purpose and plan to show other people Him.

When I asked God to take me deeper in to this story, I saw the issue with the younger prophet. He had been obedient to the Lord and done just what God required him to do in delivering the message to Jeroboam of judgment. He had done just what God asked him when he refused to eat bread or drink water with Jeroboam. In his mind, the task was done ... and he was sitting under a tree. 

I can imagine the picture. The prophet is under the tree, relaxing after a difficult, emotional, dangerous task of saying unwelcome words to a powerful king. He had seen God work. He had been moved by God's faithfulness. Now, it was time to relax, to let his guard down, to get back to life as normal. Many times being called by God isn't a fun thing for us, particularly our flesh. We're ready to get back to the fairness of eating donuts, right? 

As he's sitting there under a tree, an older gentleman comes up to him and invites him to his house for food and drink. The younger prophet refuses, stating that God told him not to. Then, the older prophet lies saying an angel of God spoke to him also, that he was told the younger man was to come with him. So the younger prophet did.

There's the problem. He heard another word, but instead of taking that word to God for verification and clarity, he just accepted it. Why? Because he was hungry and thirsty. Because he was tired. Because he was ready to just coast and not have to work anymore. Because it was a word that he wanted to hear rather than the word God had put before him. Little did he know that his job wasn't over. If he had taken the deceptive word he had been given to the Lord, God would have surely revealed the truth.

Instead, the younger prophet went with the deceitful older prophet and it wound up leading to the disciplining death of the younger man.

Friend, this is what I see here. When God calls me to something, it is a call that is to be focused on Him -- not my feelings, desires, or circumstances. When God calls me to something, it is understood that it is for His glory and my good, even though it seems impossible or painful to do. When God calls me to something, there is an incredible plan and reason for it -- one I may not readily understand or see, but I can know it's there. 

I feel like the lessons regarding the young prophet are these: 

• Do not quit unless God tells you to quit. 
• If something is contrary to the word God has given you, just because it's what you feel or desire, don't change course. 
• Any "new" word or direction needs to be taken to Him for verification and clarification. 
• Trust Him in His plan even though you don't see or understand.
• Know that He is good.

Life will always seem unfair because we're looking with our eyes of flesh. Sometimes God will reveal the "why" of the situation, but sometimes we just have to trust that He's doing what is best without understanding why. God asks much of His children, but we also know that He goes with us and enables us each step of the way. If He asks it of us, it means we're ready for that step. We can trust Him.

One day, our obedience and faithfulness will lead to more than the temporal yumminess of donuts. There will be a crown and a "well done, thou good and faithful servant." Hang in there with me, friend! Our endurance and trust in Him promise fellowship with Him now and rewards for eternity. 

Goliath Ain't Got Nothin'!

If you're anything like me, there are things from your past that often rise up. I was just dealing with this recently. An event from the past had been shoved in my face (by a calendar, of all things!).  All you need to know is that I was dealing with a huge attack of fear, of remembering the pain, of having details of the heart-wrenching hurt brought into clear focus.

My husband, who is a very wise man, was patient and loving with me. He reminded me of the fact that when I gave birth to each of our beautiful children, I left the pain of childbirth behind in the hospital. As each year rolls around, I don't remember the pain that I experienced. Instead, I focus on the beautiful baby (now amazing adult) that each of our children are. My focus. That was the secret. Where was I looking?

Then, I came to God and His Word. We started out with the way my husband had led me, and God took me even deeper. We came to the story of David and Goliath in 1 Samuel 17. We see that Goliath, this huge giant of a man, came out every day from his Philistine tent and taunted the Israelite army before him. He was almost 10 feet tall and was a massive picture of strength and power. Before the Israelites ever began the battle, they were conquered by the thought of his might and strength. Immediately, I saw that my heartache of the past was just like that.  It had grown to giant-sized proportions and become a Goliath to me. Day in and day out, it would call to me. It was constant, unrelentless, And me? I was a cowering, trembling mess, just like those Israelite warriors. They were decked out in their armor, carrying their swords and shields in shaking hands. Oh, there were weapons, but they were uselessly hanging by their sides, chained to them by their fear. They knew they couldn't beat this crazy huge giant before them. It was impossible. And it was ... for them.

David knew however that he couldn't look at things like the Israelite army did. He couldn't see through the lens of the world. He knew where he needed to be looking. I'm the same way. When I look at the massive monster in front of me, if I'm looking at my own power, if I'm looking back to the pain that caused it, then it grows out of proportion to a size that will not allow me to conquer it. But, if I look through the lens of Christ, if I remember back to all the works of God and His hands, if I focus on Him, amazingly that giant before me begins to shrink.

The taunting, screaming words of the pain drop down to a whisper. The piercing heartache becomes a conquerable feeling. And that feeling? It is obvious that it is a lie. Why? Because my God, my I AM is bigger, more powerful, victorious than any giant of a monster out there.

David knew the secret. It was the name of his God that could conquer armies. David had seen deliverance in the past as he shepherded his father's sheep. A lion or a bear would attack the sheep, and David fought it, knowing that his God was fighting for him. Over and over and over again, David had been delivered. As I read, God reminded me of the ways He had delivered me. He had delivered me from the circumstances that caused such grief. He had delivered me from living in the midst of the fear and suffering. I had already been delivered.

To look back, after the deliverance, was just asking for a Goliath. And, sure enough, Goliath showed up. He didn't know it, but his defeat was imminent.

David put on the armor that Saul gave to him. He was going to fight a mighty warrior, and people said he needed the weaponry of the world. It didn't fit. It wouldn't work. It was actually more of a hindrance than a protection. So David took it off. He knew what he needed, and God had already supplied it. It had worked for David in the past with his lions and bears, and because he knew that His God was the One over it all, he knew it would work for him again now. A simple shepherd's sling. 5 smooth stones. And his eyes fixed firmly on his sovereign God.

Me? I had been delivered from the circumstances of the past. I had seen the miracles of God's hands and known of His rescue. The reminder of where I needed to be looking was strong. And what had worked for me in the past? God's precious Word. His phrases, His expressions, His tender mercies in black and white that had wiped away my tears. God's Spirit. His presence that whispered of His love and power to me. I visualized God's Spirit as the hand holding the sling. There was nothing that could conquer me, no giant too big for me with God's hand gripping the weapon.

The huge Goliath was felled with one small stone. It didn't matter how big he was. It didn't matter how many battles he had won before. The brutal words he spouted were of no account. His weapons of steel were powerless. He shrunk down in the presence of the Almighty God, and a rock between the eyes was all it took. When I look at my fears with God's eyes, when I see them as He does, the monster loses its teeth. The claws disappear. And the giant is reduced to nothing.

David wasn't content to just let the pebble do the work though. He knew that very often giants can be resurrected. Maybe the first strike will daze them, but they'll be back. There was to be a death. After God did the initial work with that little rock, David ran towards the big, scary creature lying on the field of battle. Again, David was fearless because he knew who the real Fighter and Warrior was. And, he grabbed the mighty sword of Goliath and cut off his head. Uh, yeah. Even a huge monstrous giant can't come back from that. He killed the fear of Israel.

God tells me to do the same thing. When I've looked through the lens of Christ, when I've had His hand flinging the stone of His Word, when the giant has fallen before me, the job is almost finished. Now, it's my turn. It's time to cut off the head of fear. Isn't it interesting that God has us deliver the final blow? He knows we need to be involved in this battle as well. I'm not to be just a cowering warrior while God fights for me and protects me. I am to be active, involved, fighting with Him when He shouts the call. And how do I do that? By declaring to Whom I belong! By shouting that my I AM is bigger, stronger, mightier and that He will be the victor. By roaring the promises of His Word. By looking with remembrance in the past and present to His deliverance. By trusting Him. By knowing Him. By actively taking those fearful thoughts captive and replacing them with the truth of His Spirit. Oh yes, God has given me all that I need to cut off the head of the writhing, defeated enemy.

And then? David took the armor of Goliath home with him. He took the bloody mess that had covered the giant facing him, and placed it in his tent. Why? To serve as a reminder of God's deliverance. To be a picture to him of what God had done. How can I do this same thing? By writing it down. Spelling it all out in black and white what God has taught me, shown me, delivered me. Telling others, just like I'm telling you now. If I were a painter, I could paint a picture.  If I were a carpenter, I could carve a reminder. If I were a mason, I could make a stone tower. Stack those stones and don't forget what God has done. Anything as a remembrance of what He has done..and then revisit it often!

David's triumph just reminds me of the victory I have in Jesus, the ultimate victor. Jesus has already won the greatest battle, and He whispers to me to hang in there, to keep fighting alongside Him, to look to Him as we journey through this life that is most often a great battleground. I've read the book. I know what happens on the last page of the story. Where am I looking? At the giant before me? At the pain of childbirth? Or the precious baby I'm holding? Goliath ain't got nothin'!

** An endnote: thank you to my incredible husband who listened to God's whisper and got this whole ball rolling. Happy birthday to us!

Beautiful Scars

When our little girl was 7, we rushed her to the hospital because she was having an appendicitis attack. It ruptured before we got there, and she was one sick little girl. Because it ruptured, they kept her a few days … and instead of getting better, she continued to get worse and worse. She couldn't walk … could barely move … her fever shot up again … she began vomiting. The surgeon told us that he needed to go in again and try to find what the problem was. So, again she went to the operating room. An abscess and blockage, removal of part of her colon, cleaning out all the infection -- and they said this time she'd be better. Our doctor told us he had been very concerned about her and that if this had happened 10 years earlier, they wouldn't have had the medical equipment and knowledge to have kept her alive. We had almost lost her. She spent two weeks in the hospital, recovering, slowly gaining her strength back. When we brought her home, she was skin and bones … but she was alive.

Fast forward 10 years and she was a vibrant, beautiful 17-year-old who hated the scar on her stomach with a passion. If she wore a 2-piece bathing suit, someone invariably commented on it. She would tell me vehemently that she thought it was the ugliest scar she had ever seen. She looked at it and saw ugly.

I saw life.

Without that scar, our little girl wouldn't be here with us today.

And I wonder. Does God look at my scars the same way? My scars might not be physical, but they're there. I, like my daughter, have hated my scars. To me, they were signs of brokenness, of failure, of defeat, of wounding. Those scars would bring up the feelings of the past, the pain of the injuries. They were the ugly in the picture of my life.

Then, it struck me one day. Maybe God looks at my scars the way I look at the scar on my precious daughter's stomach. What was heading towards certain death wound up being completely restored into life. Honestly, is there anything more beautiful than that? The scars of my life are all from painful periods that I would love to be able to erase. But life, being the way that it is, doesn't work like that.

Instead of sitting and grieving over the scars, I think God would have me look at the scars like He

does. Beauty from ashes. Dancing from mourning. Life from death. Wholeness from brokenness. Each scar that I bear reminds me of His incredible grace to me. Each scar tells me of His great love for me. He never gave up on me. He never left me alone. He transformed me, conformed me, changed me, grew me. He did what only He could do -- miracles, healing.

I also believe that God looks at the scars of His Son with tenderness, too. For in those scars, I am healed for all of eternity. In those scars, I have been resurrected and live with Him. My scars. His scars.

Beautiful, beautiful scars.