Second Corinthians 5:21 is the core of the gospel. Today we commemorate the cross from which our blood-bought wholeness flows. The crucified Jesus was made sin so that we might be made right with his father and ours. Glory. So be it.
Father, please enlarge our hearts to receive all you’ve provided.
When the woman touched the hem of Jesus’ cloak and was healed, Jesus says, “Someone deliberately touched me.” The disciples, when Jesus asked who’d touched him, had said that the crowd was pressing against him and how could anyone tell who’d touched him? But Jesus was asking about a deliberate touch, one that had taken healing power from him. He had felt the power leave.
Sometimes people say, “If God wants he heal me, he will.” With the implication of “I don’t have to ask him specifically or repeatedly or in particular circumstances for him to heal.” The report here in Luke 8:45 suggests otherwise. Though the woman’s request was implicit, it was deliberate.
Most aspects of healing are mysteries to me and to most of us. But here’s a clear message: Be deliberate in our requests. Seek to touch Jesus. I don’t know what that might mean for you, today, in your circumstance. But it means something specific, measurable, and particular. Go to a healing room and request prayer from one of their small groups dedicated to healing prayer. Go to a healing communion service. Get alone with God in the night and cry out with your whole heart to be healed.
I wish he healed more regularly. I wish for less mystery. And yet, I am grateful he heals at all. Had he never responded to my desperate requests, my life would be far different.
More, Lord. More. We need your deliberate touch. Give us grace, this Easter season, to stretch out our hands again to reach the hem of your garment. For your glory. Amen.
Today I’m recommending Beautiful Battle, Mary DeMuth’s new book.
Though I’ve only read the Kindle preview at Amazon, I trust Mary’s writing, wisdom, and authenticity. She understands that Satan plants his lies through traumas and challenges. Those lies undergird our weaknesses. Those weaknesses create battlegrounds where Satan seeks to destroy us.
She points us to Jesus whose victory is sufficient for our victory. I especially appreciate that she talks more about the state of our hearts than about outward techniques. Much of our warfare is about learning to rest in the Father’s faithfulness. And Mary knows the territory and will help you through the minefields.
Father, thank you that your faithfulness will bring us to your heavenly city, for your name’s sake and for your glory. Amen
“Only 30% of the congregation tithes.” While Jerry read the paper after Sunday services last week, I was looking through information on a capital campaign.
Jerry put the newspaper down and smiled at me. “They don’t know what they’re missing. How sad.”
Malachi 3:10 (NIV) says, “Bring the whole tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. Test me in this,” says the LORD Almighty, “and see if I will not throw open the floodgates of heaven and pour out so much blessing that there will not be room enough to store it.” I thought of that scripture again as we went on the recount, as we have recounted before, all the ways God has honored the tithe that we began forty years ago.
We have always had all we need. We were very poor in our early days as Jerry made pottery and we sold his wares at art fairs. But we were provided for. We got to know a woman who ran a small pottery supply store in her house. We purchased a kiln one day for several hundred dollars. ”You guys always have the money you need when you need it.” She knew us well enough to know that we didn’t have a human patron supplying our raw materials.
In the next few years, Jerry got his electrician’s license and began to work for the city, a job he kept until last year. Our tithing continued. Occasionally, I wished for more money, but reminded myself of Malachi 3:10. Once, I noticed a woman wearing designer jeans while I wore Farm and Fleet. “I could have those if I wanted to. I choose, though, to invest in the Kingdom.” Through various means, God provided a mortgage payoff on the same day we took our daughter to college. We have enough money in Jerry’s retirement. Health costs have always been paid, even the tens of thousands of Jerry’s cancer treatments. We are grateful.
Finances, though, are just the beginning of blessing. We experience God’s favor in every area–From the sweetness between Jerry and me to the sense of God’s love and compassion as we navigate our journeys in this challenging world. I know many of you could give similar testimonies.
But if you’re part of the 70%, I understand the fear of not being taken care of. I get the resentment of giving up your cash. But it’s the one place in scripture he challenges us to test him. Don’t miss out on the reward.
Father, your faithfulness is absolute. Thank you.
More than forty years ago when I needed University-approved housing at the last minute, I took a cancellation at a boarding house in Champaign. One of those accidental roommates in that small triple room was God’s intentional means to draw me into his heart. This excerpt from my memoir, Trading Fathers, describes our first encounter:
“When I returned to Leeman Lodge, the roommate who’d claimed the single bed was kneeling next to it on the floor. She had long brown hair, lively brown eyes, and a full mouth. She glanced up and smiled. “Hi, I’m Mercedes. I’m praying. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.”
“I’m Karen.” She probably saw my face fall before I ducked behind the chest that separated her bed from the bunks. I sat on the lower bunk, my head in my hands. Praying, huh? Right.
Jerry had warned me about those “Jesus freaks.” He’d gone up to DeKalb, to Northern Illinois University, to sell some handmade ceramic incense burners to the head shops. The Jesus freaks had accosted him and wouldn’t stop bothering him. Though he’d also been raised a Catholic, like me, he had stopped going to mass. Neither of us thought Jesus had anything to offer us.
I had, however, intensified my search for truth since that suicidal crisis on the day I first talked to Jerry. I had not yet heard “You shall know the truth and the truth will set you free,” but I instinctively longed to know what reality was solid enough to build a life on. But I was sure Jesus wasn’t it.”
I was nineteen years old and knew I was right. God was unknowable.
But God knew my proud and broken heart and within the next year, Jesus revealed himself to me. In the intervening years, God has convinced me he’s not only knowable, but lovable. The God revealed in his Son is the solid foundation of my life. Sometimes he’s confusing, he’s always mysterious, and occasionally, he’s confrontational. He’s also gentle, humble, and kind. I owe him everything.
What’s your story?
Father, thank you for Jesus and for the Holy Spirit who reveals truth to our hearts. Help us to hear your voice and sense your smile today.
“Find a safe person to process your pain with,” I wrote in Trauma Thoughts. Who’s a safe person? Some of us instinctively know who’s safe and who’s not, but others may find themselves repeatedly baring their souls to people who ignore or trample them.
If we need to develop skill in recognizing a trustworthy person, here are three questions: ”Is this person maintaining eye contact with me?” “Is her voice kind?” “Is he speaking truth?” And listen to your own feelings. Do you feel safe? What do you expect them to say and do when you disclose your hidden pain?
If you say, “Sometimes I still feel like a little kid getting bullied on the playground.” Will she say, “Oh, yeah, everybody goes through that. I was so scared, in third grade, of George…” and she sails off on her own tale, leaving you watching from the shore. Her indifference to your pain only adds pain.
Will she say, “You must have done something to deserve it.” Her cruelty will double the old pain. Nobody deserves bullying. Bullying is sadistic. Bullies get pleasure from your pain.
Or will he say, “I’m sorry that happened to you. Do you want to tell me more about it?” If he doesn’t have time then, he’ll say so but he’ll offer you a date when he is available. His attentiveness alone will lighten your load.
Pay attention to the clues others give. Ask God to provide a safe person for you. Don’t let your soul be trampled further by indifference or cruelty. Everyone, including you, deserves love.
How have you learned to distinguish safe people from unsafe people?
Resource: Safe People
Father, help us to recognize trustworthy people.
Does this sound familiar? You’re eight years old and your mother is sitting across the table from you. “What is the matter with you? Why didn’t you brush your hair before dinner? Your face is dirty, too.”
“I washed my hands,” you say, as you shrink down into your seat, embarrassed because it’s the first time your new friend, Alice, has come for dinner. She’s the girl in class who’s so popular you can’t believe she said yes. And now, a never-ending stream of corrections from Mom. Alice will never come back. You may not have words for your feelings, but if you did, you’d think: ”Why can’t Mom get off my case? I’m so humiliated.”
Mom, on the other hand, is unaware of her daughter’s feelings. She’s noticing the cut of this new little girl’s clothes, the style of her hair, and the big name family she comes from. She’s so focused on her goal of getting her daughter to measure up, she doesn’t notice her methods are cutting her daughter’s heart.
While Mom’s intent may be somewhat constructive, her impact is destructive. Will Mom realize what she’s doing in time to repair the damage? Is this a pattern of expecting her children to be something they’re not in order to look good to the outside world? Is she aware of what she’s doing?
Probably no, yes, and no. I heard lots of stories like this in my years as a psychotherapist. Stories of families who wanted to look good rather than be good. Families who ridiculed their children in front of their peers. Families who pointed out deficiencies in public.
Most families are guilty of wanting to look good to the watching world. What looks good to the watching God is when we treat our children with respect and correct them privately and don’t humiliate them in front of their friends. God is more concerned about us measuring up to his parenting standards than our children’s brushed hair at the dinner table.
Father, we want to be good, not just look good. If we’ve been raised in a family who primarily wanted to look good, please heal our hearts. Thank you that you do not humiliate us. Let us sense your accepting love today, for Jesus’ sake. Amen.
My husband’s cancer, diagnosed in 2009 and treated over the next two years, did not traumatize me.
“What do you mean by that,” you might ask. “Wasn’t it intense and scary and didn’t you cry?”
Yes, yes, and yes. But genuine trauma overwhelms our coping abilities and leaves unprocessed feelings stuffed away. We walk away from trauma with anger and pain and fear that are tucked away in the closet of the back bedroom, split off from the physical memory of the event. If we want to live an emotionally healthy life, we must eventually clean out that closet. The memories and the feelings need to be reintegrated into a whole experience. Lies need to be identified and disavowed. God’s truth needs to be experienced. Until the healing happens, the memory of the difficult event feels like it happened yesterday.
No memory-from getting Jerry’s diagnosis to the last PSA test-feels that fresh. It was intense and I was scared and I cried a fair amount. When the first surgery had to be stopped because Jerry would have died from a life-threatening reaction to the anesthesia, I trembled for an hour as my friend Judy and I prayed. I lost some sleep and I ate too much. But on the whole, I stayed in touch with my emotions through it all. No memory brings up any pain.
That’s how we know we need healing–when a memory throws us back into an emotional fire. When stuffed-down memories do flash through our minds, we feel like we are right there again.
If that’s your experience, perhaps it is time to ask Jesus, “How do I heal this memory? What do you want to do with this fragmented piece of my heart?” Take the time to ask him to go with you to the old memories and show you where he was. Ask him what his perspective is on that trauma. Find a safe person to process the pain with.
Though the cancer process was not traumatic, childhood abuse had left my heart fragmented for years, so I know what those intrusive memories and feelings are like. Perhaps you are one of the many who walk around with a traumatized heart. May I pray for you?
Father, you know the fresh pain that comes every time that memory comes up. Please show me how to heal. What people, what resources, what kinds of interactions with you do I need? Give me grace to face what must be faced. If it was easy, I’d have done it before. I need your help. For your glory, Amen.
Sold by his jealous brothers into Egyptian slavery, jailed on false rape charges, and forgotten by one who could help, Joseph, favored son of Isaac, absorbed the suffering. He let that suffering humble his heart. In humility, he accepted that his story is a small part of a God-sized story.
After years in jail, God placed him second in power to the Pharaoh. When his brothers came to him to buy grain in a long famine, he could have refused. But humility allowed grace: “And now, do not be distressed and do not be angry with yourselves for selling me here, because it was to save lives that God sent me ahead of you.” Genesis 45:5
Rather than assert his rights to liberty and a pursuit of happiness, Joseph was willing to step outside his own story and see himself from a God’s-eye-view. In that view, his pain furthered God’s purpose.
In a culture addicted to complaining (I’m guilty), we need a Joseph kind of humble wisdom. A wisdom that looks at the largest possible context, the eternal context, before making a final judgement about our own injustices.
Our pain is important and must be taken seriously. It must also be put in the context of the eternal story, lest it overwhelm us. Only then will we be able to give the grace Joseph gave to his brothers.
What part of your story do you need to put into God’s context?
Wisdom, objectivity, humility. Father, we need you to grow these fruits in our hearts. For your glory. Amen.
When a parent dies who was not the parent we needed, we may feel a very complicated grief. If we’ve mourned the loss over the years of his/her life, the grief will be less. If we have continued to hope for a loving, attentive father or mother, grief will be much more difficult and strenuous. A way to help process grief that I often recommended to clients is to write a letter. Something like:
Dear Dad (or Mom or Father or you who adopted me but didn’t nurture me),
What can I say? There’s so much I wish we could have talked about before you died. I wish we could have had a 
heart-to-heart about that time in third grade when I came home crying because someone teased me at school and you said, “Oh, don’t be such a crybaby.” Or the time in sixth grade when a boy touched my newly developing breasts. I was mortified and humiliated but knew you’d dismiss it as nothing, so I never even mentioned it. I’d sure like to tell you how it felt when you got so drunk at my wedding.
And then there’s what happened in my bedroom at night and how that darkened my heart. I can’t think of those things without hating you. There, I’ve said it. I hated you. I probably still hate you.
How can you just leave me like this? Didn’t you care about me at all? Why raise me if you didn’t love me? There’s so much I don’t understand. Maybe I never will. I’ve got to get past all this pain. Your cruelty does not mean I deserved it.
Your daughter, “Annie”
(And, if you are a Christian) Lord, here’s my torn, messy, sinful heart. I know you love me, even if my parents didn’t. Maybe they thought they were doing the best they could. Maybe they were. Only you know. Please show me what you see here. I need wisdom and grace to grieve. Please. Amen.
Father, may all who grieve be comforted. May those who grieve without you find you in the midst of their pain. And may those who grieve with you feel your arms surrounding them. For your glory and your coming kingdom. Amen.
Some teachings change our lives. At a small Tuesday morning women’s group in 1978, the leader taught on the “three revelations:” the Lordship of Jesus, the love of the Father, and the power of the Holy Spirit.
Lordship, love, and power. If we are believers, then the lordship of Jesus has been revealed to us and we’ve accepted his authority. But we can be believers all our lives without the other two.
A young mother then, I’d walked with the Lord Jesus several years, but guilt and shame fed my restless heart. Though I had experienced some of the power of the Spirit and in my head, I knew the Father loved me, in my heart, I wandered in and out of the rooms of the Father’s house. I wanted to settle in but I couldn’t relax.
As the leader talked that day, I grasped that a revelation of his “love that would not let me go” would allow me to move in. I longed to lie on the couch, to enjoy the light of his face.
She suggested praying for revelation, so I prayed. I’ve written several pages in my memoir about this process, ending with a particular experience: …”a warmth I’d never felt before began at the top of my head and flowed through every inch of my body. In one swoop through my being, God’s love filled my heart. He was smiling at me. His arms were open as I walked into his embrace. It was the revelation of the Father’s love I’d been asking for.” pg. 153, Trading Fathers (Winepress, 2009)
If you question his love for you, won’t you ask for a revelation this year? Every day: ”Father, reveal your love to me, please.”
Let me know what happens.
Father, more love, more power, under your lordship in Jesus. For your glory and our joy, Amen.
Thank you for building my faith in 2011 for___________(insert your own experience). Faith is your gift. Unless you strengthen my trust, I will sink into the mud of unbelief. Let my faith, hope, and love increase in 2012.
Thank you for showing me again, that you are bigger than __________(insert fear). In 2011, you’ve brought me through so much. I will trust you in 2012 for this area where fear keeps knocking at the door of my heart.
Father, thank you, this year, for convicting me of __________(insert sin). You’ve helped me see the destructiveness of those choices and attitudes, in my own life and in the life of those around me. Thank you for your tough and tender love that saves me from my own self-destructiveness. You are a faithful God. I count on that steadiness. Only you will deliver me from evil and bring me safely to the heavenly home.
Add your own prayers of release and thanksgiving at the turning of the year.
As we end 2011 and begin 2012, let’s release all that has held us back and express our thanks for all that has spurred us on.
May the new year be the best because we turn our hearts more and more fully toward our dear Papa-God.
Thank you, Father, for sending your word made flesh to that smelly Bethlehem stable. Your odd, nearly unbelievable advent. Your lethal weapon against this world’s destructive ruler. A soft-skinned flailing infant. Your weakness stronger than our strength.
Thank you for embodied hope. For peace and promise. For abundant expectation in the kingdom that has come, is coming, and will come.
At this season, may we receive again the wonder of this offer. May we recognize that stable’s glory. The beginning of the end of destruction. May your rule and reign come. May your creative, healing will be done. In every heart, in every home, in every city, in every nation, in all the world. Yes. So be it.
© 2012 Karen Rabbitt. All Rights Reserved.
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