Jenna’s Journals | 1998 10.23

Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of my heart be pleasing to your ears, my God and King. 

SEA OF SOULS

Silhouetted against the starlit sky, a lone boat forged its way through the sea of corpses in the frigid Atlantic waters. The dim flashlight scanned the faces of the frozen bodies, searching for a sign – any sign of life, while a lone voice called from within the boat: “can anybody hear me? Are any still alive?” The waters were unusually still as the reality of the situation struck the heart of the sailor. “We’ve come too late.” Of the hundreds of bodies that were once kept alive only by the hope that the “light in the distance” – the glowing lanterns of the nearby lifeboats, would return and find them living, only a few were saved. 

Only one boat had returned. The rest had remained in the near-distance: listening as the crying souls were silenced by the cold air, listening as baby’s cries  diminished with the passing of time; watching as thrashing bodies were stilled by the coldness of death, watching as bodies slipped away from all they once clung to and disappeared forever into the black abyss of the sea. 

Lord – I feel the weight of this spiritual truth in my heart and yet I fear it. Those of us who are saved have been unwilling to return to the mass of dying souls and search for those who are waiting for salvation. Will we watch as they fight the futile battle alone – knowing we have the only salvation available? Will we listen as they cry to the barely visible light in the distance, and will we not draw near to them and enter the mass of spiritual corpses to rescue the one living? 

Let us not return too late. Let us not wait too long. Let us not rest in the comfort of our salvation while the masses are drowning. 

Lord I need you to transfer your heart to me! I am near to realizing the dire situation of the unsaved, yet my heart has not fully accepted the weight of their reality or of my responsibility. I am distracted from seeking first your kingdom. Lord make my reluctant heart willing. 

I am 25. Yet who knows how “old” I truly am because you could take me or return at any time. I NEED, desperately WANT – You to intervene in my life and make me a vessel of your hope and light to the perishing. I’ve lived too long and wasted too much time already. 

Change me now. Let your 25th birthday gift to me be a changed heart and changed actions in line with your call. This all sounds pretty and poetic on paper, but in the reality is blood and guts. Let me follow through in action what you’ve poured out through me on paper.

When Dreams Die Young

We never thought our dreams would come through our wounds. Those dreams lay shining before us, immediately within our grasp, or so we thought. Maybe Joseph felt the same.

His own brothers sold him into captivity. The traders who bought him carried with them balm and myrrh from Gilead to be sold in Egypt, entirely unaware that those healing spices were now joined by a man who would bring healing to his generation during a time of severe famine. And this man’s journey would foreshadow a greater, eternal savior who would bring healing and salvation to all.

Do we realize that sometimes we, too, must be broken to bring healing?

Joseph likely didn’t realize this when he first received his dream—that he would have to be broken.

Broken by the hatred of his brothers.

Broken by separation from his family.

Broken in slavery.

Broken as a man falsely accused.

Broken through years in prison, though innocent.

Broken year after year as he waited until his dream was almost forgotten.

Yet God makes everything beautiful in its time. And so he did with Joseph, raising him up from the heap of ashes to a prominent place. Positioning him to save a people from certain death.

And through the lineage of those saved would come a greater savior who would suffer death on a cross to save us from sin and to defeat death through his resurrection.

“By his wounds we are healed,” we cry. And this is truth. God can heal everything from broken hearts to broken bodies. And yet, sometimes His healing comes in a different way. And dreams can only be resurrected after they’ve first been buried.

“Unless a seed falls to the ground and dies, it remains but a single seed.”

There’s a deeper faith that understands we are also called to be like Jesus. And because He was wounded we, too, may be wounded for a season. Is a student above his teacher? If Jesus suffered, so we may be called to the same.

Of course, our brokenness would never come to the point of bringing salvation, as He did and alone can do. But maybe our brokenness comes to a degree that we might share in pouring his healing balm on those in need.

And as we bleed through our wounds an element of His healing is brought to our own generation. A deeper healing.

Who knows how our own wounds may be used to bring healing to others?

God works miracles in unexpected ways. He is all-powerful and can certainly bring immediate healing, as he often does. Yet his greater miracles come when he brings light from darkness, good from evil, and healing from our wounds. Only God can bring glory from ashes.

Photo Credit: by Lichtmagnet from Pixabay

The Sharp Knife of an Unexamined Life

The world was riveted this week by the story of a young actress whose life was cut short by a tragic drowning accident. What was expected to be a beautiful day swimming with her young son on a scenic lake in California sadly turned out to be her last day on earth. And she has become yet another somber reminder of how very fragile life is.

I’m not sure exactly what drew me to follow this story. I had not heard of this actress prior to reading the news headlines, but something about her four-year-old son found alone in the pontoon boat cut to the heart. Beyond that, I’m sobered by the thought of how suddenly life can come to an end—even for those that seem to have all the beauty, fame, talent and riches the world so desires.

One of her final tweets, dated days before the accident, read: “No matter the year, circumstance, or strifes [every day] you’re alive is a blessing. Make the most of today and every day you are given. Tomorrow is not promised.”

Years prior, she sang a song titled “If I Die Young.” The lyrics speak of “the sharp knife of a short life.” How prophetic these words have become.

Yet I would venture to say that there’s a knife which cuts sharper than that of a short life.

The philosopher Socrates was quoted to say, “An unexamined life is not worth living.” I would call this, “the sharp knife of an unexamined life.”

A life gone too soon is most certainly tragic. But a short life lived fully, with purpose and eternity in mind, is not as tragic as a long life lived without meaning or thought.

We are created for a purpose. We’re here to accomplish something only we can accomplish, for the benefit of our generation and generations to come. And God has offered the hope of eternity though the death and resurrection of his son Jesus to all who would accept this invitation.

To live without knowledge of our creator’s wonderful plan for our lives—and to live without eternity in view, is both futile and foolish.

I know nothing of the life and legacy of the actress who so suddenly lost her life. But I do know many Hollywood icons tend to live their lives for what is fleeting: the accolades of men, the transience of beauty, the lure of material gain. And most give their souls to preaching false gospels so they can earn these momentary rewards that will only fade with time.

Examining my own life, I know I don’t want to live chasing the wind. I don’t want my legacy to be something only of temporal, earthly value. I want it to last beyond eternity.

There is a life that is truly life, which can only be found in relationship with the author of our lives. He has shown us that following his design for life leads to abundant life. And he’s created us to leave a legacy that will outlast our lives on earth. And more important, for those who believe, for those who would receive his gift, he has promised an eternity where there is “no more death, mourning, crying or pain.”

Our life and its outcome is well worth the investment of examining ourselves, of searching to see if we are truly living “a life worth living.”

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the human heart; yet no one can fathom what God has done from beginning to end.” (Ecclesiastes 3:11).

 

Photo Credit: Sunrise at Lake Piru by Jeff Turner, labeled free to use or share on flickr.com

(Not) Business as Usual

My family has gone on more walks lately than I can recall in any springtime past. We’re blessed to live in an area with multiple locations for scenic hikes, so we’ve taken much advantage of one of the few things still allowed during shelter-in-place: outdoor exercise. This is one thing I hope doesn’t change when all this passes over.

Along our walks, we’ve seen many beautiful and interesting things. But I will say there is one thing we’ve seen that seems especially unusual. Empty playgrounds.

While the sight of a slide and some swings usually elicits a gasp of excitement from my children, there is a strange stillness when we pass by equipment once adorned with laughing children. It’s somber, almost. Haunting.

I know my kids are eager for things to go back to normal when it comes to playgrounds. And many others are yearning for business-as-usual in other areas as well. Family gatherings. Visits with friends. Work. School. Shopping. Entertainment. Sports.

As much as I long for some normalcy, there are some things I hope never return to the way they were before the lock-down. I hope my family continues to treasure our precious time together. I hope we still enjoy long walks outdoors. And I hope we remain in this state of prioritizing the valuable over the urgent.

On a more serious level, there are other things I hope never go back to business-as-usual. Prior to this season of quarantine, the practice of human trafficking was flourishing on soil across the globe. This $150 billion per year, 40 million victim industry prospered without hindrance on every continent.

Only time will tell how much this shut-down has slowed the progress of this horrific evil. We may never know how many abductions have been prevented with children and youth required to remain safely inside. And with the sports industry on halt, the trafficking-driven after-sporting events are left without the hundreds of thousands they once magnetized.

My prayer is that this current crisis will come as an urgent wake-up call to those who have funded this industry with selfish appetites, and that they would turn from their victimizing ways. My hope is that those who have been victimized will find their way to lasting freedom, and that those who are laboring behind the scenes to bring such freedom will prosper in the cause of justice. And my desire is that the horrific practice of modern slavery will not continue business-as-usual.

“Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.” (Proverbs 31:8-9)

Holding Our Breath

My daughter always preferred wading to an underwater experience. When she was little, she tended to gravitate to zero-depth pools. Even now, once in, she’d rather walk head-above-water than go deep, though she has grown in courage over the years.

The last few summers, she’s experimented with going under. This usually involved plugging her nose and puffing her cheeks, followed by a hesitant bow into the water that lasted a few seconds at most. By the time she was finally comfortable going under for more than a minute, the pools were closing for the season. I know it’s just a matter of time before she’s fully at ease underwater.

As the summer approaches, we’re preparing for fresh opportunities, and until then we’ll begin to practice holding our breath. After all, it seems like that’s all we’re doing lately…holding our breath. Waiting for this pandemic to end so we can come up for air and breathe once again.

In less than a month, our world has changed in drastic ways. Nothing is as it was, and we wonder if anything will be back to normal once it’s through.  We wonder when we’ll breathe that sigh of “we’ve made it through, we’re out of the deep.” And we mournfully remember those who took their final breaths in the process.

It would be a fearful time, if I did not know the one who holds my breath.

Last year, long before the pandemic hit, my dad took his final breath this side of heaven. In the days before he passed, I sat at his bedside singing hymns. When he had the strength, he’d lift his fragile hand as if to say, “I’d sing with you if I could.” When I shared scripture, he’d nod faintly in agreement. Until he was too weak to move at all. The last night I spent in his hospital room, he spoke the last words I’d hear him say to me. “Thank you.” He went to hospice soon after, and he died minutes after we’d surrounded him with songs of praise.

For us, it was a painful loss. But I imagine him arriving in heaven as one emerges from the deep, taking a glorious breath of untainted air.

And seeing him in his last hours has dissolved my fear with the confidence of knowing there’s one greater who holds my breath. The God who created heaven and earth breathed life into my lungs and new life into my spirit. His thoughts for me outnumber grains of sand, and he knows the number of my days. So even now, as our world is shaken, I will not fear.

I know who hold my life. I know who holds my future. I know who holds my destiny. And I know who holds my breath.

“God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way and the mountains fall into the heart of the sea,though its waters roar and foam and the mountains quake with their surging.” (Psalm 46:1-3)

 

Photo Credit: LightThroughWater_Pixabay_labeled free to use or share on Google Images

What We Don’t Always See

My seven-year-old son has a strong sense of justice, at least when he’s not the one whose actions are in question. He’s quick to report any offense of which he sees himself victim. And often he’s compassionate enough to stand up when his friends face potential mistreatment.

The other day, he decided to call me to the bench while he stood judge and jury. Why, he wondered, did Daddy and I have two fans in our room when he didn’t have any? On this unseasonably warm spring day, it seemed a fair question. Maybe, just maybe, we were withholding from him. And maybe we loved ourselves a little bit more.

Except the aspiring lawyer overlooked one key piece of evidence: the air conditioner in his own room that was clearly not present in ours.

Yes, what he did not see was that Mommy and Daddy decided he should enjoy the cool comfort afforded by that air conditioner while we took the room without. We chose to love him enough to give him the blessing of a restful night of sweat-free sleep while we often bake in the rising heat, even with two fans. When he finally understood, his accusations came to a swift halt.

Now I know that for most of the world, air conditioning itself is a luxury of dreams. So to say we’ve sacrificed for our son is a little extreme. In the overall scheme of things, this is just one small way we’ve put our children before ourselves.

But the situation did remind me a little of myself. How often I come to God with accusation in my heart, questioning his love because things did not go as I expected. How often I ignore the sacrifices he’s already made for me, all because I’m so focused on what I want and don’t have.

Oh, the things we don’t always see.

Not only has God given us life and breath. Not only has he given us a hope and a future. But he gave his only son that “whoever believes in him will not perish but have eternal life.” We’ll never fully know the extremes he went to that we would know his love and receive his life.

And beyond that, he’s always and ever “working everything for the good of those who love him and are called according to his purpose”. He never sleeps. Every detail of our lives, woven into a perfect tapestry because of his infinite love.

What we don’t always see is the other side of the tapestry. We’re so focused on the loose strands so evident from this side of eternity, we miss the work of the master artist that will show itself beautiful in its perfect time. Abba, father…open our eyes. Help us to see. And forgive our ingratitude.

^“For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” (I Corinthians 13:12)

 

Photo Credit: weaving hands | on a loom in the iron age | Hans Splinter | Flickr

Why Do You Look for the Living Among the Dead?

When hope dies, it’s hard to believe life can prevail.  We remain at the burial site—gazing upon what we’ve lost, unaware that something greater is destined to arise from the ashes.  Helen Keller once said, “When one door of happiness closes, another opens; but often we look so long at the closed door that we do not see the one which has been opened for us.”  When Jesus died on the cross, those who had followed him closely were unaware that His death was only the opening of a greater door in which God was about to do “exceedingly abundantly above all that [they could] ask or think” (Eph 3:20).

The women who witnessed the miraculous were met with the question, “Why do you look for the living among the dead?” (Luke 24:5). They earnestly came to Jesus’ disciples with news of the empty tomb, only to be met with disbelief.  It was as if they had come to a tomb of another kind—where hope itself was permanently laid to rest.  The disciples who’d walked with Jesus from the beginning of His ministry had mistakenly believed He’d come to set up an earthly kingdom.  He had been their hope of liberation from oppressive governmental and religious systems—a political Messiah.

When He died on the cross, their dreams died with Him; when they buried Him in the tomb, they buried their aspirations as well.  They did not understand Jesus’ destiny of suffering, predictions of death or promises of resurrection. They didn’t understand He had far greater things for them, an everlasting hope.

Many times we find ourselves in what appears to be a hopeless situation—a graveyard of disenchantment, surrounded by death.  Life has disappointed us; we have disappointed ourselves.  It seems that God has abandoned us to the grave.  We cry out for hope, but Heaven is as brass.  Alone in a graveyard of doubt and defeat, it seems that the promise of resurrection was nothing more than an illusion.

Yet it is when we have come to the end of ourselves that we are on the verge of finding true life.  When things seem most hopeless, we are closer to a breakthrough than ever before.  Why?  Because we finally come to realize that the things we were hoping in were not worthy of our trust to begin with.  They were incapable of sustaining us or providing the life we were looking for.  We finally seal false hope in a tomb—never to be revisited.  This is the beginning of resurrection.

When find ourselves at the entrance to life’s tombs, we have not come to a place of death:  we have instead arrived at the door that leads to everlasting life and hope.  Jesus’ death on the cross is an invitation to die to all our unworthy expectations.  His resurrection is an invitation to find hope that will never die.

 

Photo Credit: Resurrection by Gerd Altman from Pixabay

(Originally posted April 2015)