Finding Puzzle Pieces

Healing is like putting together a puzzle with a million pieces and no picture on a box to follow. Just when you think you've gathered them all, that there couldn't possibly be another piece to add to the puzzle, another shows up. God presents a missing piece you didn't even know you were missing. He drops it into your lap and it takes you by such surprise. It isn't the size or shape of the puzzle piece that shocks you. It is the remarkable realization that you've been so long in missing such an important piece to your puzzle.
A thousand times on my journey to complete my own healing puzzle I've thought I had all of the pieces. I was sure that it was just the placement that was off. What more could I need to be whole? What more could my heart be missing? What more could my body be needing?
With my own eyes and without the precise picture on a box to follow, I've never been capable of seeing the missing pieces I need. Only God has been able to reveal them in His time and by His mysterious methods.
The discovery of a new puzzle piece is always exciting, invigorating and even humbling. It is exciting to be one step closer to a whole image of healing perfection and invigorating to hear from God. But it is humbling to see what massive puzzle pieces I've missed for so long. Pieces of forgiveness, joy and laughter. Pieces that would have brought me peace and other pieces that would have lifted burdens. Along this journey I've picked up precious pieces of my physical body's healing puzzle but the pieces I cherish most aren't the pieces that have helped put my body back together again. My most precious pieces are those that have healed my heart.
The pieces that would have transformed my eternal life are the pieces of salvation and mercy. They are the center pieces of God's grace and love. It's these everlasting pieces that have not only renewed my health here on earth but have put the puzzle of my eternal life together.
God's puzzle piece placement and timing is perfect. He delivers the pieces just when I need them, when I have the eyes to see them and the place in my heart to put them. My puzzle isn't complete just yet. This side of heaven it never will be but one thing I know for sure. The image at the end, on the other side of the gates of perfect healing, the image of complete restoration will be worth every moment spent collecting puzzle pieces along the way.

Shhh...

 

I wasn't born with an innate love of quiet and stillness. Case in point: Growing up my Dad nicknamed me "M.A." to be utilized in circumstances in which I was acting particularly rowdy. "M.A." stood for Maximum Annoyance. As you might imagine I wasn't fond of the not-so-endearing term but I was even less fond of being still or quiet.
Thankfully, as I matured, so did my behavior. I stayed loud and rambunctious but lost the maximum annoyance flare. By high school my "rambunctious" behavior had transformed into studying for tests and belting out musical productions on the stage and worship songs in church. I grew up but I didn't grow quiet or still, just a different, more agreeable, variety of noisy.
It wasn't until I became sick and weak that my voice began to quiet and my speed began to slow. I didn't take kindly to losing my rambunctious spirit. For years, nearly all seven years of my illness, I fought hard to keep the volume of my life as loud as possible and the pace as quick as I could manage. As I deteriorated physically that fight became an all-out battle with more losses than wins and more tears than celebrations.
When the frailty of my body finally forced me to surrender to the quiet life I threw fits. When I could no longer resist stillness I wailed like I was being tortured. If ever there was a time to don the nickname "M.A." those tantrums were the time.
It took becoming deathly sick and completely physically depleted to realize that stillness isn't a curse. The still, quiet life is actually a blessing.
Before my health became so compromised I thought a full life was defined as one bursting with adventure, excitement, experiences, going and doing. I was blind to the ill effects of needing to be surrounded by constant activity and incessant noise. I was unwilling to surrender to the silence. I didn't want to embrace the quiet.
But God works in mysterious ways. He has used my illness to open my eyes to see the precious blessings found only in quiet life. God has shown me a life of bliss in the stillness.
Despite my reluctance, God's pursuit of my surrender to the quiet life has been relentless. He has pulled me away from the world so that I can experience the serenity of His presence. God has revealed to me that my identity, contentment and fulfillment do not come from doing, accomplishing and experiencing. My worth and purpose are found in Christ. Peace, rest and joy are found in His quiet presence.
Whether ill or in full health, I have life to the fullest because I have my life hidden in the quiet, still and eternal life of Jesus Christ.

Just call me Wile E.

I'm thinking of changing my name. Wile E. sounds about right. Heaven knows I certainly feel a whole lot like that loony coyote cartoon character on a perpetual chase ending with a brick wall or anvil to the skull. The prey of my chase's pursuit is far more illusive than the coyote's feathered fowl and much trickier, too. The Road Runner's tricks are child's play compared to the feats performed by the object of my never-ending quest.
Health, the illusive prize I covet, has me chasing, running and pursuing it with all of the obsessive (and at times spastic) passion of Wile E. Coyote. I've tried to be level headed and learn from the foolish predator's mistakes. Avoid anvils. Look out for brick walls. Be careful of cliffs. Don't press big "DON'T PUSH HERE" buttons. But, alas, you know how thi story goes. The same place it did for Wile E. With a boulder falling from above, a river damn breaking open, lightening striking a nearby tree and an anvil falling from the clear blue sky - all at once.
Well, at least that's how it feels.
Right when I think I've finally found my prize - it's so close I can smell it, taste it and sometimes even see it - the earth drops out from underneath me. It's all a trick. Health escapes me faster than an animated road runner. Wellness evaporates into thin air.
The crushing reality of defeat takes me down every time in a cartoon like ending all too real to be comical. With a crash and a bang I end up under an anvil weighed down with hopelessness and despair. A brick wall knocks me face down into depression. The storm's thunder disrupts my confidence and the lightening pierces my peace.
But, just like Wile E. Coyote, I always end up back on two feet, standing and ready for the next round of the chase. No matter how hard and steep the fall, how heavy the blow or devastating the defeat the the show goes on. Another episode begins again the next day. My health series has yet to end at the anvil.
The explanation to Wile E. Coyote's death defying survival is simple. An author wrote his story that way.
The answer to my survival is precisely the same.
My author wrote my story this way. 
God, the author of my life's story, has kept the series of my life going through every season of health. His power has pulled me from pits of doom and sure death. God alone has put my feet on solid ground and bandaged my wounds. When I've been too weak to dig out of the boulders of sorrow that have nearly suffocated me, God has been the one to lift the burden and revive me with His eternal life. At the end of my every health episode He refreshes my spirit with springs of hope.
I don't know many more anvils have left to fall in my health series but I know who will be lifting the burden. I know how I'll end up back on my feet.
At the brick wall of my episode's defeat I know God will be there to meet me, restore me and revive me. Just like Wile E.

Look up...what do you see?

I look up and what do I see? 

God's promises surrounding me. 

I look to the leaves on the trees and in their gentle swaying my eye perceives a promise of peace.

I turn my gaze to the birds of the air and see God's glorious promise of protection and provision.

Everywhere I look God's promises are there. 

I see them written on street signs and stacked on store shelves, typed on billboards and delivered in the mail.

They pop up in places I would never expect to see them and reside in spaces I never thought to look.

Dear Friend, look around with me. What is it you see?

Check every nook and don't miss a single cranny. 

Look to the sky and glance to the ground. 

Do you see that all around you are promises of God's everlasting goodness? 

Do you see His everlasting covenant of eternal salvation and endless grace?

Whenever you look, wherever you look, look for God's promises because they are there.

They are everywhere. 

May we never stop looking for them.

Humpty Dumpty (Pippy Love Version)

Humpty Dumpty isn't the only one who has had a great fall. 

I've had plenty of falls without sitting on walls. 

I've fallen on my pride and fallen on my sin. 

I've fallen down in depression and fallen hard in despair. 

I've fallen apart from sadness and difficulty. 

I've fallen into doubt and hopeless defeat. 

I've fallen away from God... away from trusting Him....away from resting in Him...

away from peace in His everlasting and mighty arms. 

But without the help of horses or the might of men, 

the Lord my God always puts me back together again. 

From the brokenness of my sin to the cracks in my soul, 

God knits me back together always better than before. 

It is all my King's power and all my King's love that faithfully, 

graciously and tenderly always puts me back together again.

Honey lasts forever

I was eight year old when a hot and humid July and August turned into "The Summer of the Bees." The hive affixed to the door frame on the front of the house was a constant (and all-too close for comfort) buzz of activity. I did my best to play away from the hive and Mom did her best to remove the residence of the stinging intruders but they were a tough hive to crack. The front door became a danger zone. Apiphobiacs beware. 
I remember my first stinging encounter with that hive and its buzzing residents. I vividly recall shedding alligator tears while cursing all bees. How dare they interrupt my afternoon fun with a pain all-too similar to the injection of a doctor's needle. I never had been one to tolerate vaccinations with bravery or grace and my encounter with the bees was no different. I endured the pain with the help of baking soda, a Mother's comfort and, of course, an ice cream sundae. In time I recovered and by the end of the day I was back outside (by way of the back door) to play.
The Summer of the Bees passed and although I still avoid run-ins with hives, I'm no longer cursing bees or the pain they inflict. I've actually come to love bees. Stingers and all.
I've come to love bees because of what they provide and I'm not talking pain. I'm talking honey. Bees are honey masters. For all of the pain they are capable of inflicting, bees are no stranger to sweet. They are the only buzzing insect capable of making the sticky goodness that give Honey Bun's their name. Bees alone cultivate the liquid gold that supplies a touch of sweetness to freshly brewed cups of tea. They work wonders of pollination to transform nectar into a treasure. I love and appreciate bees because underneath their stinger, they create something incredibly sweet. On the other side of the pain they inflict is the honey they provide.
Bee's aren't the only provider of both stinging pain and gloriously sweet honey. God can deliver both, too. He is a master at bringing beauty out of ashes, restoration out of destruction and sweetness out of a sting. God transforms seasons of pain and difficulty into jars of honey overflowing with His love. He uses the sharp stings of sorrow and loss to produce the sweetness of gentleness, compassion, kindness and grace. God never allows a single stinging pain to penetrate the skin, heart, mind or soul without it producing something gloriously beautiful and eternally beneficial.
May I never try to avoid God's stinger because, although there will be pain, it will only last a moment but the honey will last forever.

20/20 Vision

Go ahead. Take off your glasses. 

But I need them to see.

Not now you don't.

Take off your glasses. 

The command came with such authority I immediately heeded to its directive. As if my glasses had turned into a hot potato I pulled them off the bridge of my nose, scrunching the tips of my ears along the way in my haste to remove the lenses from my face.
I set my torturous shell frames on the night stand next to my bed and looked straight ahead at a world gone fuzzy. I'm never without my glasses or contacts. They are my security. They give me sight. Without my glasses I am hesitant, unsure of where to go, which way to turn and what danger could come next. I wouldn't dream of driving without my glasses. I barely even walk down the stairs without the help of a corrective lens. But with four words and one command I abandoned my glasses.
I put them on the table and blinked my eyes to adjust to the blurry sight of the room around me.
The bridge of my nose enjoyed being released from the burden of bearing a plastic frame and my ears agreed. Even more stunning than the physical relief was the relief that came washing over my soul. All at once I was overcome with an inexplicable freedom and a new hope that I can and will see clearly again.
God has faithfully restored my most important and eternal sight of the heart and His works of restoration aren't over yet. When I was blinded by my sin, living in a haze of rebellion, I put on a set of glasses that showed me a world I wanted to see and refused to look through God's eyes. But God broke me. He broke into my life and told me to take off my wayward glasses so that He could be my sight. I surrendered my glasses of sin but kept a second set, a set that demanded I have control, securely affixed to my life and heart.
I wonder how long God has been telling me to take off this set of glasses?How long have I been too stubborn to hear God's voice and too rigid to release my way? Too stuck on my own sight to give God control of my eyes?
I've been wearing physical glasses since I was twelve but I've been wearing a heart set on own way and my own control for twenty seven years. I've kept wearing lenses of determination that demand I have some grip on the direction and future of my life. I've been stubbornly trying to be my own vision.
All this time, all my life, God has been directing me take off my glasses. Abandon every last hold of control I have on my life, my future, my security, my comfort. Let it go. Risk being recklessly abandoned and utterly blind to the world so that I can be entirely reliant on Christ, dependent to God for more than my every step. Be dependent on God for my every sight.
I must give up on providing my own vision in order to live with God's 20/20 sight. I have to throw away the prescription lenses that I have had affixed to my very soul in order to have the life I want, the life perfectly united with Christ.