Remembering the Future?

While I was making breakfast this morning, I found myself humming the chorus to a song I wrote a few years ago: "Can't you remember tomorrow? Nothing was ever the same..maybe it's only a dream's memory--like a rainbow reaching for rain."

Bizarre use of tense for an English major, I know. But for several years, I have felt the past, present, and future overlapping in such bizarre ways in my mind. I've had incredibly vivid dreams where I am sobbing holding my baby girl, only to wake up and realize that she is gone. There is no baby girl at all. The ache in my arms is still there, though. Unexplainably. Several years ago, after a friend of our family was killed in Iraq and my cousin was badly injured in Afghanistan, I woke from nightmares of violence and personal injury to find that I was safe in my own bed. I was safe at home, but they weren't. And the ache of the past's collision with the present lingered in my heart.

Time is not a linear thing. It is of all things most circular. Returning again and again to the images, stories, and moments we know matter deeply. The past does not reside exclusively in its own world, but continuously crosses the border into our world--the present.

This afternoon, as I was surfing the web for some books on the Christian church, I came upon an online copy of my mom's 1993 book, Jason: My Child. (For more info, click here: http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/0963120034)..The book tells the story of my brother's long battle with leukemia and my family's experience as they watched him fight with God's strength and childlike faith. I never knew my brother, but I love him and think about him more than probably makes sense. BELOW: Here he is in the hospital at 6 years old (Gainesville Sun/ May 31, 1985).

You likely won't be surprised to know that I have never finished reading the book (despite the fact that my lovely mom authored it) because it leaves me so emotionally vulnerable; my eyes sting for the rest of the day, as if I was cutting onions. But today, I decided to reread the last few chapters--the same ones I read so many times when my parents' house was empty and I wanted to feel God's presence through Jason's words.

My mom writes:

"It had been a long time since I had been to his grave. The polished granite marker read —Jason Vitale February 7, 1979- January 30, 1991 Home in heaven —Jesus died for me. Emptiness shook me. What had I expected to find here, after all? The words of the verse, Why seek ye the living among the dead. He is not here... echoed in my mind.I imagined Jason shaking his head as he watched his mother, standing alone in a cold cemetery; just because she wanted to be near him.

I thought of the warmth, brightness, and beauty of heaven.

Jason was with the Lord. My emptiness vanished; I did not belong here. Looking upward, I smiled and blew Jason a kiss...

At times, when missing Jason, I picture him here, a part of the chaos we call family life. He is holding Ashley — a sister he has never seen — or laughing at Sarah’s antics, helping MaryEllen or Bryan with their schoolwork or teasing Bethany. It is nice to think that he is not missing us."

I'm Ashley, the sister he has never seen. And there's a part of that picture in my mom's head that I've replayed in my own many times. Why am I the one he never met? Why did God take him from our family so early that I got to see the inevitable results of grief but not the immense faith of my 11-year-old brother? The questions I raise are not angry or bitter, but truly curious. There must be a reason.

I like to think that God gave me Jason as a story (instead of a sibling who could stand beside me) because He knew how much a story could get my attention. He knew the way I'd fall in love with the written word--reading by age 3, correcting my sister's grammar when she was 3 grades beyond me, memorizing whole books before I could brush my own teeth. God saw the day I would weep uncontrollably in the car while reading Mitch Albom's Tuesdays with Morrie and the day I would read a simple kind email from one of my blog readers and fall in love with the man who wrote it. A man who just so happened to go by Jason's middle name.

I like to think God gave me some sort of resemblance to Jason that my older siblings never had, just like they had a relationship with him that I never had. Some days, I wake up seeing my dad's facial expression when he has told me, "You have no idea how much you remind me of Jason. Your smile and the way you think about things.." He's smiling a smile that's hard to explain, but I know it's proud. 

I kept reading backwards (as I often do) and caught something I don't remember seeing before: 

"We are forever thankful to God for allowing Jason to touch our hearts. Through him we learned much about God’s sustaining grace, love and power. While he taught us a lot about dying, he taught us much more about living as we witnessed a peace that comes from trusting God completely...

Jason once told us, “God puts us here and gives us a job to do. When it is done he takes us home to heaven. God is going to bless me by taking me home early. Do what you are supposed to do, raise your family for God and I’ll see you when you get there.”

Wow. I wish I spent every day remembering the truth of those words he gave my parents. 

Having recently married and moved, I often wonder what God has planned for the remainder of my adult life. Work, family, service, who knows? But Jason's right. No matter what, God's given me a job to do. Right now, my focus should be to do what I'm supposed to do today, raise my family (no matter how big or small) for God, and wait to see him when I get there.

I feel a little like that rainbow tonight; hanging in the sky, reaching backward for the rain whose beauty came before me. The house is getting dark as the sun moves past it, and I feel a little dark as the reality of how short life truly is hits my heart.

As I hold my nieces and nephews during the precious times I can, as I interact with my in-laws and my brothers and sisters and my friends, as I engage in important public conversations, as I seek a career and opportunities for service, as I do all the things I do in my ordinary days...I pray God would show me the job He has given me to do and help me do it well. 

I want to trust Him like Jason did, even when my best-laid plans get thrown by the roadside in favor of "new" plans God has made for me. I want to "do what I'm supposed to do" even when it isn't easy and I have a million excuses for why I can't. 

I love you, Jason. Thanks for teaching me lessons even when you aren't here to tell me in person. Thanks for trusting God when it wasn't easy so I would start to learn how...

I'll see you when I get there!

Responding to the Call

Two Scriptures have been in my mind all day--one from the book of Esther and the other from the Gospel of Matthew. The more I thought about their messages, the more I realized they share a deep connection to a lesson God has been trying to teach me these past few months. 

{Esther 4:13-14}

Then Mordecai told them to reply to Esther, “Do not imagine that you in the king’s palace can escape any more than all the Jews. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews from another place and you and your father’s house will perish. And who knows whether you have not attained royalty for such a time as this?”

The question Mordecai asks Queen Esther has always struck me as one of the most important questions in the Bible. Those I most often place at the center of the Bible are "What do you think of Jesus?", "Whom do men say that I am?", "Am I my brother's keeper?", and "Did God really say?". The first asks about an individual relationship with Jesus, the second asks about the social understanding of Jesus, the third asks about an individual's responsibility for his fellow man, and the fourth asks about an individual's responsibility to the truth of God. But Mordecai's question is different because it asks about an individual's response to the call of God. 

The circumstances of Esther's life have been ordained by a sovereign God. Mordecai is simply reminding Esther of the behind-the-scenes work of God in her life. Essentially he says, Why do you think God brought you here? Do you think this is an accident? And if God wants to use you and you don't listen, don't you think He will find someone who will? Take a look at verse 13 again: If you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance will arise for the Jews (God's people) from another place. 

Esther is a young woman who has been catapulted from a low position as an orphan in her uncle's house to the second highest position in a heathen kingdom. The potential for her heart to be swayed away from the God of Israel and from her uncle's lessons is enormous. But her response to the calling God placed on her life changed the course of history and saved her people. She listened to God and to the people He placed in her life to care for her. Her honorable character and beauty captivated the heart of a heathen king and brought glory to God.

The other verse I was thinking of is in Matthew, at the beginning of the gospel narrative:

{Matthew 3:7-10}

But when [John] saw many of the Pharisees and Sadducees coming for baptism, he said to them, “You brood of vipers, who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Therefore bear fruit in keeping with repentance; and do not suppose that you can say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham for our father’; for I say to you that from these stones God is able to raise up children to Abraham. The axe is already laid at the root of the trees; therefore every tree that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

At first read, Mordecai's question and John the Baptist's stern warning seem unrelated. While Mordecai is speaking to Esther and reminding her of God's sovereignty, John is speaking to the hypocritical religious leaders and reminding them of God's holiness. However, both men are clearly identifying our responsibility as individuals to answer the call of God. 

For Esther, as a follower of the Lord, her response needs to be courageous. Her fear of the king's scepter must bow to her reverence for God and her love for her people. For the Pharisees and Sadducees, as only false followers of God and hypocrites in need of God's salvation, their response needs to be contrite. They must repent of their evil attitudes and actions and obey the commands of God in sincerity.

Both calls are applicable in my life (and I think, in all of our lives). When we find ourselves riddled by sin and failure, entangled in the lies of the world around us, and continuously comparing ourselves to others for the sake of our own pride, that is when God is calling us to repent and bear fruit--to turn from what offends Him and willingly offer what pleases Him most. On the other hand, when we find ourselves struggling to keep our heads above water in trials--when we are afraid of the future and worry about whether obeying God's calling to service will cost us too much--that is when God is calling us to trust Him. He arranged our circumstances and He has a mission for us in exactly the place He has put us RIGHT NOW. 

How will I respond? How will we respond?..

ReBlog: Clinging

I was just reading through some former writings and found a post that speaks to me right where I am today. Amazing when God uses the past!

[From August 27, 2012]

Musings on John 20:1-18

A few weeks ago, I had a conversation with a close friend of mine that changed my whole perception of this resurrection story. He shared with me that he was reading about Mary Magdalene at the tomb in John 20 and said "You know what's incredible? Jesus loved Mary. Mary loved Jesus. And when He said "Don't touch me", like we've always heard, it really means "Stop clinging to me". Wouldn't it be amazing to hold onto Jesus so tightly that He'd have to tell us let go a little?"

Wow.
That wounded me like a knife in the gut. I had never thought of that scene in that way...and I can admit that rarely have I drawn so close to the Savior that He would ever wonder about restraining me from coming closer.

I am humbled when I think of the story of Mary Magdalene. She had been possessed by seven demons before she met Jesus and He graciously healed her. Undoubtedly, her former life was one of immeasurable darkness and torture and bondage. It is interesting that in the Scriptures, the number seven is a number of completeness...what a cruel and seemingly inescapable prison to have seven demons living your soul! But, here beside the tomb of Jesus, she is a free woman...overwhelmed by grief that the Man who saved her life has been stolen from His grave. Completely dumbfounded that the Man she believed to be the Messiah is dead. Lonely for that prized closeness with Love and Light himself.

Notice the first verse: "On the first day of the week Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and saw the stone already taken away from the tomb." She came early...the earliest time of the week at the earliest time of day. She came in the dark. She sought the One she loved before everything else. And who was the first to see the empty tomb of Jesus? Mary.

As she ran to tell the other disciples that He was not there, the news must have been beyond confusing to her finite mind. How could this be? Where is He? In verses 10 and 11, there is a contrast I hadn't noticed until I examined it again. "The disciples went away again to their own homes...but Mary was standing outside the tomb weeping; and so, as she wept, she stooped and looked into the tomb." Jesus' own chosen men left the tomb to go home. In effect, they decided to close up shop because nothing wonderful could happen here at the empty tomb of their Master. But what did Mary do? Overcome with grief and covered in tears, she stood by the tomb and looked for something more. In verse 15, who is the first to see the angels and to be asked that searching question "Why are you weeping?" Mary. This woman who had watched the Light of the Lord Jesus banish her darkness was the first to be introduced to the stunning truth that the Light of the World had conquered even the blackness of death itself. 

Best of all, who was the first to see the Lord Jesus alive again? Mary. She turns to Him, "supposing Him to be the gardener" and asks where he has been laid. And yet, the risen Christ stands right in front of her and, in response, speaks only her name. "Mary." Instantly, everything is clear! Can we even imagine the joy in Mary's heart as she held Him and said "Rabboni!"? Her heart must have been leaping.

She was at the cross. She watched Him die. And now she stands at the empty tomb in His open arms!

Then, she hears these tender words in verse 17; "Stop clinging to Me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brethren and say to them, 'I ascend to My Father and your Father, and my God and your God." I can't wrap my head or my heart around this verse. I don't think I will ever be able to.

The Lord Jesus had completed everything to rescue a fallen world and bring them into close communion with God once again. Because of His sacrifice, His God is now ours. His Father is now ours by blood. And who does He tell first? A weeping woman that hangs onto Him for dear life. A weak woman He had rescued from the devil's strong grip. Tenderly, Jesus gives the news of His resurrection--the greatest triumph in history--not to His disciples, not to kings and queens and generals, not to crowds of admiring spectators..but to Mary Magdalene who hangs on His neck in tears.

Because she sought Him, because she devoted her whole heart to the only One who could provide the pure love she craved, this woman who had lived in the world's darkness for long enough found the risen Jesus first. And as she clung to Him and then obediently released her hold on Him so He could finally return to His throne in heaven, she taught us all a lesson not to be forgotten.

Seek Him sincerely and seek Him first. Seek Him in your darkness. You will find Him and when you do, cling to Him with everything you have. Because His life is the only life worth clinging to.

No Longer Sin's Slave. Now Abba's Child.

Nine months ago, on November 14, 2014, I wrote something darker than I ever wrote before. I felt something darker than I ever felt too. I remember sitting in the dim lobby of my college residence hall, sobbing into the silence, and hoping none of my friends would walk in the door and see me. The clicking keys were somehow cathartic as I wrestled with God via rhetorical questions aimed at the air:

"Just because God is trustworthy, does not mean I trust Him. I know I should pray but I don’t want to talk to Him. I know I should read His Word but when I do, I just feel farther away.

I don’t meet His standards, His law is almost like Greek to me when I am this dried up. I’ve never been so parched in all my life, and I know parched. I once was so dehydrated I needed 5 bags of IV fluid to get my strength back. This is so much worse...

What do we do with our faith when we wake up every morning with a knot in our throat that just won’t go away? What do we possibly say to the Life-giver when we wish that life would just end because it has become too much to carry? What do we do with our worship when prayer feels like an act, when songs of joy sound like mock performances to a God who knows I’m just masking my pain? When Job’s heart and life were falling apart, how could he say “blessed be the name of the Lord” and not feel like some sort of fraud? I know God knew His pain, but He could have stopped it. He could have kept him from those painful conversations with his friends that made him feel more alone. But He didn’t. Why? You may say it was to bless him. But He could have blessed him anyway. Why the total heartbreak? The betrayal? Why the sickness and the grieving and the ruin of all of his hard work and plans? God had a purpose, yes. He blessed him in much greater measure afterwards, yes. But in the blackness of that suffering, how could he have possibly kept his faith that God was still good and still listening?

I’m still asking for the answer to that question. When I pass the so-called friends I had until they didn’t want me anymore. When I wake up miles away from my husband and sick with the temptation to run to an addiction that will numb my loneliness. When I hear news that family members are sick and scared and hurting. When hopes for the future are dashed, and my hard efforts in the present seem completely useless. When the bank account is running on empty, and my physical and mental energy is depleted more than ever before. I’m still asking. The question that the psalmist asked--the question the Savior asked on the cross. “My God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from helping me? I cry all day and all night, and you don’t hear or answer.”

Maybe He does and I just don’t hear. Maybe He doesn’t and I just can’t see the reason why. In my head, I know I have a Father who loves me, who listens, who knows, and who cares. I know in my head He’s watching me write this, maybe even sharing the tears in my eyes. But, I’m still asking..because my heart doesn’t feel His presence and doesn’t believe the truth when the lies are so heavy and strong. The morning will come..but it hasn’t. And I don’t know when it will."

My body and my mind were drained. A family member had just been diagnosed with cancer. I was living hours away from my husband and knew I would not see him for another month. Even writing this now, I can feel that knot forming in my throat again... For the first time, I recognized that God is with me even when I sense nothing of His presence or His love; He was still with me when I didn't feel Him or accept His promises or spend time at His feet. But the fact that He was there did not mean I was able to experience the peace and comfort He was trying to give me.

Over the past nine months, my world has shifted dramatically. I graduated from college, moved from Massachusetts to Ontario...and became a housewife. Yeah, I never thought I would say that. Yet, as much as I would love to be working right now (especially given the real estate market here) and I am struggling with the hours while my husband is at work in which I feel utterly useless, I have learned something in this transition:

     

    My life is not measured by the job I do, or the grades I earn, or the feelings I feel, or the people I know, or the praise I receive. My life is not defined by my anxiety, or by my panic attacks, or by my physical appearance, or by my weight, or by my social status. 

    My life is measured by the distance between me and my Savior, and by the volume of His voice in my heart, and by the depth of my understanding of His character and compassion, and by the length of His arms as they reach out to lift me up when I fall. My life is defined by His peace, and by His love, and by His justice, and by His grace.

So often I tell myself that God doesn't want to hear from me, that He has given up on me and has better things to do, that He is angry at my failure to be who I should be and to do all I should do. But, even though I know my sin and distance grieve and offend Him deeply, those lines I repeat to myself are LIES. They are lies written by the very father of lies who rejoices in my defeat and laughs at my fear and is pleased when I am in pain. 

Today, July 20, 2015, begins a new chapter of my story. Through the power of the Holy Spirit, I will pray that God gives me the strength to fight those lies with the truth of my identity in Him. I will pray God lets me use my gifts in a way that honors the God who saved me and continues to save me. I will run to the Cross when I feel overwhelmed by the weight of my need for a Rescuer and a Redeemer. 

Because this is the real truth. When life begins..when the miracle of birth takes place..someone entirely new enters the world. And when God gave me new life 13 years ago, He  changed me for eternity and offered me the chance to become someone entirely new. A NEW creation. A woman who, through the Holy Spirit, is armed with a secure identity, a certain future, and the truth that can set her free.

{Romans 8: 1-4, 14-17}

Therefore there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set you free from the law of sin and of death. For what the Law could not do, weak as it was through the flesh, God did: sending His own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and as an offering for sin, He condemned sin in the flesh, so that the requirement of the Law might be fulfilled in us, who do not walk according to the flesh but according to the Spirit...For all who are being led by the Spirit of God, these are sons of God. For you have not received a spirit of slavery leading to fear again, but you have received a spirit of adoption as sons by which we cry out, “Abba! Father!” The Spirit Himself testifies with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him.