Unexpected

Twenty seven years ago something unexpected happened.
I was born.
I wasn't a planned baby. I was a blessed surprise, as my Mom says. She had always wanted a big family with lots of kids but by the age of forty, she was content to be a Mother of two if that was God's plan. Little did she know in the summer of 1989 that God indeed had a plan she couldn't imagine - an unexpected baby.
By the time I arrived I was expected. Mom had set up a nursery and made her nest but what she didn't expect, couldn't expect, was a baby with a head full of black air and a complexion that looked more exotic than all-American girl.
As I grew up I continued to deliver unexpected surprises. As a newborn my young baby frame grew quite large earning me the affectionate name of "Sumo Wrestler" but that stage didn't last long. By the time I was ten months I had shed my sumo weight and was a full-time walker. The unexpected sight of a tiny little frame scooting around the mall and down grocery store isles caught the attention and awes of fellow shoppers.
From the very start my life has been full of the unexpected and in the past seven years the unexpected has soared to new heights. Unexpected illness and unexpected symptoms. Unexpected trials and unexpected struggles. But the most unexpected surprise of the past seven years has been the abundance of unexpected blessings and unexpected glimpses of God's goodness.
When this journey began seven years ago I could never have imagined the unexpected path God had laid out for me. I couldn't comprehend the unexpected plan He had for my future. But little by little, day by day, He has been revealing to me a plot and a story more creative and more compelling than any I could have designed. God has been filling my life with wildly unexpected twists and turns. From the very beginning, still just a baby on a sonogram machine, God had my future, my purpose and my unexpected path in life all planned and prepared.
On this my twenty seventh birthday I am in awe of God's unexpected goodness. He shows up in the most unlikely of places and shows His grace in the most minute details of my life. God specializes in the unexpected and I wouldn't have it any other way.
God has blessed me with an unexpected life. It is unexpected in trying ways full of tribulation and it is unexpected in beautiful ways full of sweet gifts of mercy. I have been blessed by the most amazing unexpected life and today it is just enough to celebrate that and praise God for it.
So, thank you God for giving me twenty seven years of life. I can't wait to see what you have in store for the next one. I know one thing is for sure, it will be full of the wonderfully, gloriously unexpected.

Spring Again

The seasons amaze me. I know it seems like a silly thing to find amazing, but, to me, seasons are awe inspiring... the predictability of seasons, one always following another in seamless succession; the uniqueness of each season, no two the same. The differences reveal themselves in the budding flowers of spring, the brilliant orange leaves of fall, the sun's hot rays in the summer and winter's blankets of gleaming white snow. Every season is its own wonder to behold, amazing in its own special way.
Today as I walked in the great outdoors after a long winter of bitter cold and blowing winds I breathed in a new scent and took in a new scene. I breathed in spring. Despite the fact that I've experienced the newness of spring twenty six time before, every year this beautiful season catches me by surprise - by sweet surprise.
It always seems that the earth's transformation from winter to spring happens overnight. One day I wake up and immediately pull on warm socks and the next day I'm strutting around shoe less and fancy free. Spring enters swiftly. Closed windows open wide. Low hanging clouds disappear into a distant memory. Spring makes its grand entrance in flower beds and on the tips of tree. This glorious season arrives in the bright sun and sings its hello from the beaks of birds back from their musical hiatus.
I love spring. I love it for the thawing out of cold hands and frozen feet. I love spring for the blue sky and the green grass. I love spring for its perfect walking weather and soothing rain showers. But, most of all, I love spring because it is my yearly reminder that God is not done making all things new.
When spring comes and the flowers break through the barren earth, on their petals God writes me love notes. As the flowers bloom His message and promise to faithfully restore, renew and redeem is revealed. No matter how harsh the winter that preceded it, the budding blossoms, and the glorious message they bring, always return. God always remains true to His promise to revitalize the earth with new life after every cold, hard winter.
Come spring I am reminded that God is true to His word. Just like He brings new life to the earth, He brings new life to my barren heart.
No matter how harsh my soul's winter and how low my spiritual temperature falls, God can bring me back to life. He can make me bloom again. God can bring the birds of peace and praise back into my empty heart and fill me with songs of His glory.
My winter can be long, indeed it has been long, but spring will come. I know it will because it always does. It has for twenty six years.
This week is my birthday. I will be twenty seven. In many ways my life has been in a long winter. I've been sick for seven years now and this inner winter has felt like it will never end. But I have faith and hope in God's promise that assures me this winter will end. My spring of health and vitality will bud and bloom again.
On the petals of spring, written in the flowers, I see God's promise penned for me... "You, my dear, will spring again."

Stubborn Donkey

On Palm Sunday the Christian world celebrates a donkey. Well, we don't exactly celebrate a donkey but a donkey is certainly discussed. The celebration is ultimately about Jesus, the true reason for every celebration. But on Palm Sunday a donkey plays a supporting role in Jesus' story.
The classic picture painted by the preacher in the pulpit one week before Easter is of a young, baby colt draped in cloth, entering into Jerusalem with Jesus riding on his back. We don't know much about the donkey but what we do know is quite telling. This particular donkey had never been ridden before. He was, shall we say, a newbie to the stable scene. He was also a donkey particularly chosen for the task of carrying Jesus. This wasn't a random, "sure I'll take that one" kind of donkey. This was a donkey set apart for this journey, hand picked and specifically chosen. Other than those few facts, we know little about the particular donkey that provided Jesus' transportation into Jerusalem.
The rest of what we know about this young donkey comes from knowledge of donkeys in general. So, what do we know? We know that donkeys aren't easily spooked and won't go running at every unfamiliar sound. They are smart and attune to danger even when it is far off in the distance.
But donkeys are known to be stubborn, a not-so-beneficial side effect of being un-spookable. Unlike most horses, the typical donkey can be kicked, pushed and pulled without budging. It take extensive training and an abundance of patience to teach a young donkey how to be an obedient provider of rides, willing to start and stop on command. Naturally, the donkey doesn't want to obey. He wants to stand still when confronted with a new stranger on his back.
But not Jesus' donkey.
In every account of Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem He is riding on a donkey, not being pushed or pulled on a donkey. The donkey is moving willingly. The young, never-before-riden donkey is listening to the Lord's voice and following the gentle commands of Christ. There is no scriptural reference to Jesus kicking the donkey or yelling at the donkey to move its stubborn behind through the lush display of palm branches. Jesus didn't need man's force to rule the donkey. With His very presence and spirit, Jesus directed the donkey.
Jesus' command over the donkey is strikingly similar to the command He displayed earlier in His life over the waves of the sea and winds of the air. Jesus, in His infinite power, simply spoke words and the earth responded. He directed demons to depart and they had no choice but to flee. Over and over again Jesus proved that He was able to do the unimaginable, the humanly impossible and the absolutely incredible.
The power of God to still the storms and move the stubborn donkey is still as real and present today as it was on the first Palm Sunday in Jerusalem. Jesus can make mountains move and animals obey. So who is to say He isn't able to come into my stubborn circumstances - the disease I can't beat, the sorrow I can't shake, the trials I can't escape - and make the barriers to victory move? Can the God who made the donkey move, walk and obey speak into the nerves of my brain, the bones in my body and the muscles in my flesh and command them to bow down to His voice?
The lesson of the donkey is that God is able to overcome that which is stuck in our lives. He is able to break the chains of stubborn situations that feel utterly hopeless. God can make the mountains of trials move. He can command the winds of tribulation to cease. God is able. He was able with Jesus' donkey and He is able with the donkeys in our lives today.

My donkey is my health. This disease, handpicked by God specifically for me, is the most stubborn donkey I have ever come in contact with. And I can not make it move. I've tried. Oh, how I've tried but this donkey won't budge. I have kicked, screamed and yanked this donkey with every fiber of my being and ounce of strength in bones and the donkey hasn't even grunted.
It is one powerfully stubborn and obstinate donkey.
But God can make my donkey move. He can command the disease that has overtaken my body to flee in His presence. He won't need force and He might not even use a whip. With the power of His Holy Spirit and the might of His will, God can make this donkey move.
So I won't waste my energy kicking and I won't lose patience waiting. When it is right, when God so desires, He will break the chains of my stubborn donkey and release my body from this disease.
In God's time and by His power, God will speak to this donkey and tell it to move.

A view from my tight rope

I'm teetering on a tight rope, high above the sure foundation of the solid ground. I never asked to scale the ladder that led to this daring feat. It was never my intention to end up on the high wire. Yet, here I am living on the edge, pushing back my fear as I painstakingly take another step forward.
As I wobble back and worth I glance at the ground far below and immediately my mind is filled with troubling "what ifs."... What if my foot slips? What if the wire blows in the wind? What if I lose my balance?... I catch my breath, practically paralyzed by the limitless dangers of the "what ifs." If my foot slips, I'll trip forward and fall downward. If the wind blows the wire will sway and I'll lose my footing. If I lose my balance, I'll tumble right off of this wire and end up down there on that cold, hard, unforgiving ground. I'll end up dead. Defeated.
Reality pulls me back to the wire. I can't stop to think about the "what ifs." I can't stop moving. If I stop, I'll fall. I'll look down instead of looking straight ahead. If I think too much about the peril below I'll lose sight of the purpose ahead; the purpose of making it to the other side of this wire.
So I look back up. I close my eyes for just a moment and reestablish my footing. The wire is thin but it is steady. The wind isn't blowing and the rope is tight. I can walk this wire if I keep my eyes fixed on my destination. If I can just keep my mind fixated on victory I can overcome defeat.
I open my eyes once again and this time I don't look down. I look up, straight ahead. I stare with fixated obsession on the glory at the end of the rope. I look at the platform that signals safety and stability. And I walk. One deliberate, confident step at a time I move forward. I don't let my mind think of a single "what if." I cast off every fear. I look only to the future glory of life at the end of the wire.
With one sure and steady step at a time I make my way across the wire. It is longer than I ever imagined. The wire seems to go on forever but I'm not falling. I am upright and, with each successful step forward I am less fearful of the future. I believe that I can make it. I trust that I will not fall. My legs don't wobble as much as they did at the start and my feet don't feel as weak. The rope does not look as scary. The feat doesn't seem so daring.
I haven't made it to the end of my rope just yet. The high wire of my life's journey is still before me. I am still traveling, step by steady step forward into the future. But I am no longer filled with fear at the distance I must travel because I have confidence in the rope and who is holding it tight. I trust the God who is directing the winds and keeping me stable. I am not looking at the dangers of the ground below because I am looking at the glory above. And I have peace. Even on this rope I have rest and assurance because my God has placed me on this tight rope and established for me a way forward.
I will not fear the long walk to the other side of this tight rope because I know He is with me on the wire.

A Chronic Crown

Chronic pain is one of those symptoms that is invisible to the naked eye yet the inescapably reality of every moment and every breathe of the suffering. Until chronic pain became my reality I could only imagine the agony of a life of constant discomfort and distress. Now I don't have to imagine. I live it every day and, these days, no where more acutely than in my skeletal back.
Years of spastic muscles have taken a toll on my back. The pulling and tugging of spasms in my left side have succeeded in yanking my back into a state of utter imbalance. My discs, ligaments, muscles and joints are all a mess that I've tried desperately to clean up. From castor oil to chiropractic, stability balls to Aleve, nothing has worked. The pain has only worsened.
The most severe pain occurs when I sit down so I try not to sit as much as possible. But sometimes sitting is inescapable, like when riding in the car. Pre-pain I loved car trips. I was a real road warrior. At one point in my life, Mom and I traveled thirteen hours with no more than five stops for gas and food fill-ups. We drove late into the night while belting out our favorite Train ballads to keep us amused and entertained. The trip was long and my legs were thankful to stretch and move when the journey was over but I never experienced pain. Now I can't drive across town without counting down the minutes until I am released from my sitting position.
In these past seven years of chronic illness I have had to come to terms with the reality of chronic pain. I am not telling you this for pity's sake or to gain a collective, sympathetic "aw" from readers. I'd by lying if I said that I don't mind the pain. Of course I mind. But I also know that this pain is nothing compared to plenty of other crosses I could have to bear. I could be in a country where I was persecuted for my faith. I could bear a cross that paralyzed my body or served me with a short life. But this illness and the pain that results from it is the cross God has given me.
After all of these years of pain the question I face is not will I bear the cross God has given me. At the end of the day, no matter how painful, the answer is always "yes." The real question that stings at my heart and rips at my muscles is not of will but of how. How will I handle this pain? Will I bear it like a heavy burden or wear this pain like a beautiful crown?
Yesterday I stepped out of the car after eight hours stuck in that upright, painful position wearing something new. I exited the car with a crown. Was there pain in my back? Without a doubt. Were there tears forming in the corners of my eyes as I stretched my stiff, spastic muscles? Absolutely. But on my head was a crown of glory. In my pain I found unity and communion with Christ. By enduring discomfort and distress I shared in a tiny taste of the suffering of Christ. Trapped in pain, I was given the opportunity to travel on the journey that lead to Jesus' victory over death and His, heavenly, glorious crown.
Every moment of pain that I endure is real and so is the crown I wear. I have been given this cross to wear as a crown, not to bear as a burden, so that, in the wearing of it, I will become intimately united with my Savior and Lord. On this journey, wearing a crown fashioned by the hand of God and perfected in the cross of Christ, I am being prepared for Heaven to spend eternity in the presence of my God and King, the conqueror of death and the everlasting keeper of the crown.

Welcome to a whole new world

The departure occurred so rapidly I didn't even have time to say goodbye. Not that a formal goodbye was in order. Time Warner Cable and I didn't have that kind of sentimental relationship. Ours was more of a customer service complaint and bill pay type of relationship - if there is such a thing.
But now our relationship is over. Caput. One day I turned on the TV and hear a smooth radio voice tell me that Time Warner was now Spectrum. The smooth voice assured me that I need not fear the continuation of my cable and internet service. The transfer to Spectrum would be seamless.
And just like Time Warner Cable trucks vanished from the streets, replaced by utility vans bearing a whole new name. The old internet site I once visited to pay my bill simply disappeared into the world wide web history books. The number I once dialed to connect to my Time Warner Cable customer service representative redirected me to a menu that had certainly changed.
Welcome to the whole new world of Spectrum.
Isn't it stunning how quickly the world as we know it can be transformed? Change can occur so quickly that, in TV land, Time Warner Cable can be provide the morning news and by lunch, Spectrum can take over.
And to think, that's what limited man can do with cable and internet. Can you just imagine what the almighty, all powerful God can do in the human heart and  the lives of His followers?
Friends, I am here to tell you that we need not imagine the drastic, dramatic and amazing works of transformation God can accomplish because we can actually be that drastic, dramatic and amazing work of transformation. God's marvelous work of change can be implemented with such swiftness that old self won't even have time to say goodbye. He can and will work that quickly if we allow Him to have control.
God's desire is to perform works of soul transfiguration in you and I in order that we can be made into the image of Christ. When we give up the rights we have to ourselves, God takes ownership and possession of our lives - body, heart and soul. He wipes off our old name, cleanses us of our sins, and imprint us with the mark of His Son. He changes us from the inside out, transformed into beauties of His glory with such superior quality and service that we are fit for Heaven.
God can transform you and I as quickly as Spectrum took over Time Warner Cable. The world won't have time to say goodbye but assure them they need not worry because the new self - the self made new in Christ - will be much better than the old self could ever be. The service will be better. The quality will be unparalleled. And a new name, God's name, will be on the top of the bill. 
Welcome to God's whole new world surrendered and saved in Christ.

Sorry, Mom

I owe my Mother an apology. My offensive, disgraceful behavior occurred years ago but as of yet I have never asked for forgiveness. So today is the day to make amends and right my wrongs.
Mom, please forgive me for throwing a fit in Dr. Jackson's dental chair. I apologize for my screaming, yelling and thrashing about that led to the use of the office's straight jacket. I'm truly sorry for crying and slobbering all over my Gap kids outfit and causing your blood pressure to spike. And if I shouted out that I hated the dentist, Dr. Jackson in particular, please have mercy on my tongue - and blame the impending shot of Novocaine.
My dear, forgiving Mother remembers better than anyone that as a child I was a petrified pediatric dental patient. I'm sure I taxed not only her nerves but the nerves of the entire dental office staff. Even the thought of the dentist left me wrought with anxiety. I was convinced that anything that occurred inside that office was dreadfully painful and utterly unpleasant. The medical community invented straight jackets for kids like me; kids overcome with extreme dentophobia.
Looking back on those fateful dentist visits I now understand what caused me such fear. It was that very first shot of Novocaine. Despite the dental assistant's assurance that the pain would be over in just a few seconds, I didn't believe it. Or maybe I believed it but that didn't change the fact that I didn't want any pain, not even for a moment.
Mom can attest to the fact that I've grown up quite a bit when it comes to my dental visits. Suffice it to say the dental assistant no longer needs to employ the straight jacket. But I'm still not a fan of needles, shots or pain - momentary or long term. Even when the sting comes with the promise of quick relief, I'm filled with anxiety. I don't scream, cry and throw tantrums, but inside I'm overcome with fear.
The most intense fear comes when the shot is in the hands of God. On countless occasions I have come into His presence as a patient in His care and the treatment plan has started with the familiar refrain, "Hold still, this will only hurt a bit." But I don't want to hold still. I don't want to feel pain, not even a bit. I want to avoid all discomfort. I want to be made well without being given the shot.
But I've learned a thing or two since my childhood days in the dental chair. Fighting against the physician won't change the protocol.
God is more persistent than the dentist with a more effective strategy for commanding compliance. He doesn't even need a straight jacket. He compels my heart with the cross of Christ. He puts Jesus in front of me and instructs me to yield to His will and submit to the procedure of His plan. It may hurt a bit, in fact it almost always hurts a bit, but just like the Novocaine shots of my youth, this pain is momentary and for my good. The numbing is to save me from the pain of a life apart from God's care. I need the shot of submission to Christ in order to endure all of the drilling, filling and fixing that follows and makes me whole and eternally well.
I still don't like shots but I'm learning that in the right hands, in God's hands, they are necessary and for my ultimate good. God's shots are a vital tool He uses to save my perishing soul. Without His shot of spiritual Novocaine I wouldn't be able to relax, rest and peacefully endure the trials and tribulations that are part of making me fit for Heaven.
So, Mom I'm sorry for throwing a fit at the dentist and I promise to never put you through that dental torture again. I've grown older, wiser and I'm learning to cherish shots - well, at least one kind of shot. God's shots. Because I know I need them and I am choosing to submit to them. No straight jacket required.