Time for Healing

Mark 8 records the healing of a blind man in Bethsaida. This is, to my knowledge, the only account of a gradual healing in the Scriptures (and it was pretty instantaneous when you consider sight was completely restored to a once blind man). I wondered why, when Jesus healed others from afar, instantaneously, with only a word was this man's healing so different? And, right between "Phase 1" and "Phase 2" Jesus asked the man if he saw anything. If Jesus wasn't second guessing His success (and I'm certain He wasn't), what was that all about? Curiosity led me to Google.

Most commentaries and pastors see this healing as a reflection of the spiritual healing that comes when we surrender to Jesus. The "seeing" bring us to Jesus, and He takes us by the hand and begins to transform us -- slowly, maybe, by our standards, but pret.ty quickly when you consider this is a complete resurrection and reconstruction! That was an explanation I could tolerate.

Then I turned back to my study guide, a booklet from Moody Bible Institute (1964), written by Keith L. Brooks. Brooks quoted a Dr. Parker in saying, "Some men cannot stand instantaneous." It was merely an interesting thought until I continued reading Mark 8. Jesus and His disciples are traveling along when Jesus asks, "Who do men say that I am?" Once they discuss public conjecture, Jesus asks, "But who do you say that I am?" And Peter says it,the "Granddaddy of all confessions", the cornerstone of the church universal: "You are the Christ." The long awaited Messiah. Matthew adds, "Son of the living God." Peter got it! And yet...

As Jesus began to teach the disciples of His impending ordeal, the rejection He would face, the pain and suffering, His murder and His resurrection three days later, Peter took offense. He confronted Jesus privately and rebuked Him, a rebuke that Jesus sternly corrected with words that must have pierced Peter's soul: "Get behind Me, Satan! For you are not mindful of the things of God, but the things of men." Although Peter readily accepted Jesus' identity, he rebuked His role.

Peter was a man whose sight came to him gradually. It had to be so -- he couldn't stand the instantaneous. When Peter realized the true identity of this Man with whom they'd traveled so much, and from whom they'd learned so much, he eagerly, emphatically confessed it -- "You are the Christ." But when Jesus began to reveal to him the rest of the picture, Peter refused to fill His mind with the things of God, choosing instead to be mind-full of the things of men. Peter chose to "see men as trees walking", rather than open his eyes to the gory details of a comprehensive remedy for all of creation. To use Brooks' language, Peter "did not have the spiritual sight to see the deity of Christ all at once."

And I understand! Sometimes I feel God's presence in a way that leaves me gasping for air. I think to myself, "This is too much. I need to get out of here." It's His love, His goodness, His might, His justice, His wisdom, His holiness -- the weight of which I can only withstand a portion. But it is a much larger portion than that first moment I placed my hand in His and He led me to a place of healing. When some of us cannot stand instantaneous, God takes His time.

A Time to Rest

I woke up wondering if I was going to make it to the end of the day without a visit to the ER; the pain was excruciating. The only portion of my body that was at all willing to do its given task was my feet. Enough to get me out of bed and moving toward some coffee, right? Rain was coming down in sheets -- which explained my inability to move -- and it didn't appear anyone was rushing to make me breakfast in bed or, at least, carry our arthritic sixty-pound lap dog downstairs to use the outdoor facilities.

Back upstairs with a bowl of caffeine and a less restless dog, I settled in to do devotions. Mark 6:31-32 was part of today's reading. Jesus' disciples had returned from their first "missionary journey." They'd been preaching, healing, casting out demons; and they began telling Him all they'd done and taught. I'm sure they were excitedly talking over one another. But Jesus said, "Come aside by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while." Jesus knew the drain of ministry. Even as they wanted to relate every detail, Jesus knew they needed rest, and sailed them off to a deserted place. "I need rest today," I thought.

Homework. Laundry. A shower for Mom. Breakfast. So much for "Six days shalt thou labor..." Some time later I found myself sitting on the sofa watching episode after episode of The Golden Girls, with Mom. Not restful, but Scott was doing some much needed repairs in our home, and I wasn't about to leave Mom sitting alone on Mother's Day. So, I sat. And I stewed. "Jesus was so selfless; He anticipated the needs of others, and eagerly, cheerfully met them. I need rest today."

But, as I've stated, "Mark 6:31-32 was part of today's reading." The story doesn't end there. As they were headed to their retreat, the multitude saw them, and actually beat them to their destination! I tried to imagine the look on the disciples' faces, but it was unnecessary -- I needed only to look in the mirror. Fatigued, annoyed; lips clenched tightly. Jesus could have told the multitude to leave. He could have had Peter turn that boat right around and head for someplace else. He could have spirited His disciples away supernaturally, over the heads of the crowd -- taught those pests a lesson.

"And Jesus, when He came out, saw a great multitude and was moved with compassion for them, for they were like sheep without a shepherd." (v. 34)

He preached until late in the day, and even fed them before He sent them away.

Jesus hadn't lost the desire to care for His disciples, to give them the rest they so required. But these were sheep without a shepherd, and His disciples -- as exhausted as they may have been -- for now, had their Shepherd. The multitude had the greater need.

I looked across the sofa to my mom. "You good, Mom? Can I get you something to eat?"

The Truth About Setbacks

Have you ever wanted something -- badly? A more reliable car, a wife. Have you ever needed something -- badly? A job, healing. So you get to praying. You fast. You call your prayer warriors. You ask your church -- and any church you can find -- to put your on their prayer list. And things start to happen. You hear of a friend who might be selling his vehicle. Your job interview seems to go well. God is at work! But, just as suddenly...

Setback.

I and many others are praying for someone with serious medical issues. When we began praying months ago, some really neat things started to happen -- positive news, doors opening. This week...

Setback.

I remember when I was teaching our children to ice skate. I would hold their hands, and pull them gently toward me. For those first few attempts, I held onto them constantly, watching their feet, studying their faces, keeping them from landing on that cold, hard ice. As their skills and confidence improved, I'd let go and skate back a few feet, urging them to skate toward me. I never left their sight; I'd watch their feet, I'd study their faces. "Don't look at the ice; look at me," I'd coax. Sometimes, as they began to skate toward me, I'd move back. "Mom!" they'd squeal, annoyed I was making them go farther. But, I wanted them to cover ground they'd already covered, to see we'd come that way before, and everything had turned out just fine; they'd learned some things, they'd gotten more confident. And now, it was time to go further. I had to challenge them to do more and learn more; I had to take them to a new level. It wasn't a setback; I was urging them forward!

I think God works that way sometimes. It may look like a setback, but what He's really saying is, "We've covered this ground before. I'm not leaving you; I'm going to teach you more, to show you more, to give you more. You trusted Me before; trust me again." When the cancer returns, God says, "We've fought this fight before; we'll fight it again. I'm not going anywhere, but I am going to stretch your faith and grow it. Don't look at the road, look at Me!" When the relationship, apparently, was moving along better for you than it did your (now) ex-girlfriend, God says, "What has changed? You trusted Me before that phone call, trust Me as I show you more."

We want "one and done." But that's not who God is, and that's not how life works. What benefit would it have been to my children if I'd taught them to skate five feet, handed them a hot chocolate and said, "Way to go! Check that off your list. No more challenges for you today." They would have never known the feeling of having pushed themselves to truly master a skill, and what I was willing to do for them to make sure they succeeded! They would never have known the freedom of whipping around a noisy rink, feeling the air on their faces and feeling alive.

God is a "big picture" God. He is all about the journey; He is all about growing relationships. He won't leave us tottering around some remote area of the rink. He wants us in the fray. Engaged. Fresh air on our faces. Legs getting stronger. Eyes always on Him. And knowing that what may feel like a setback is God's way of urging us forward.

Life. Is. Good!

Some days you know your life is good, and you cling to that knowledge to make it through, constantly reminding yourself you are blessed. Other days, it's everywhere! At every turn, with every moment's passing, a whisper through the trees, the light in your child's eyes: Life. Is. Good! Yesterday was one such day, but it was the final few hours of the day that were extra special.

Mom's condition has no rhyme or reason to it. Sometimes, when she's had no sleep at all the night before, she is agitated and restless the entire day; other times, I fight to keep her awake so she doesn't have another wakeful night. When I entered Mom's room yesterday morning, I could tell she'd had a rough night. Her things were everywhere. Clothes unfolded, a pajama top in her sock drawer -- those sorts of things. I got her dressed and the day continued with her usual disengagement, her silence and childlike adhesion to me. Despite her lack of sleep, she didn't try to doze, nor was she on edge. It was a "normal" day.

But something happened around dinner time -- a time of the day in which she is usually at her worst. She began watching the airplanes flying overhead, as my grandson does when he visits. She'd point out every plane, each one more special to her than the one before -- and clearly worth my attention. Our streak of Seattle-like weather had broken overnight, and I'd come out on the deck to write in the quiet; my enthusiasm over ordinary aircraft did not mirror my mother's -- at first. When it became obvious her sky watching was more than a momentary flicker in her eye, I joined her. It was then she began asking me questions about things she'd been unable to recall for years. She didn't quite have all the pieces, but she was eagerly trying to make sense of what she had.

"Why am I here?" I explained we all live together because we're a family.
"But I didn't always live here. Who brought me here?" I explained her house had become too much for her to care for, that living alone had become unsafe for her.
"I can't remember it all. What's wrong with me?"

I suppose most people, upon hearing such a question, their hearts would break; but that's the paradox of a condition like Mom's: a question like that is a beautiful, unexpected, glorious milestone! She knows! She knows she is not who she was, that her life is not what it was. This woman is not some empty shell, a ghost; my mother is in there. And it was marvelous to see. A true blessing.

Life. Is. Good!

The Blessing of Do-Overs

Being a stepmother has had its challenges. But, being Olivia's stepmother, is a unique privilege. Maybe its because she is such a great kid. She keeps an open mind and rarely judges others. She is all about relationships. And she is clever. She has a God-given wisdom that -- even at a very young age -- allowed her to see truth although deception was clothed in enticing promises. And Olivia wants to learn. We talk about things that are going on at her school or in the news; she wants to process the information that's constantly flooding her life. It was on one such occasion -- during one of our "processing" talks -- that I was given a wonderful, undeserved second chance.

Olivia is caught between two worlds. One in which she has no spiritual foundation, and one in which her father and I have clear, passionate, life or death beliefs. During this particular discussion, she mentioned something that set off some spiritual alarms for me. Inside I was screaming, "NO! That's not okay. That's not something that's up for debate, or is in any way relative." But outside? The "I'm not shocked" face. (I heard that on a radio program one day, and thought it was one of the best nuggets of wisdom when relating to others, I had ever heard.) And as I sought to control my expression, I prayed. And I let Olivia speak. I listened. I asked questions. "Let me see a picture of this," I said. Before I knew it, our discussion had become a general discussion about looking at other's motivations and seeking to know their hearts, no matter what they appear to be doing on the outside.

Now, that is not where I wanted to go with that. I wanted to tell her exactly what the Bible says, chapter and verse. I wanted to plead with her about the dangers of "losing spiritual ground" and becoming desensitized to the laws that keep us safe. I wanted to put up those "Do Not Enter" signs and lock that door to keep her from going there. But God had wisdom for me to share with her. Wisdom that would help her to discern many future situations, not tell her to avoid this one -- or worse, leave her feeling it is unsafe to speak to me about anything. He gave me an opportunity to do that. A do-over.

I didn't have this kind of wisdom when my biological children were at home. I wasn't trusting the Lord and praying for my children as I should have been back then. Age, also, has made me a bit wiser; looking back over areas where I erred and working to correct those responses. I now have the time to seek parenting advice that I didn't always have when I was actually raising children full-time. And "stepmothering" allows me to be a friend and confidant, more than the neurotic, "everything is riding on me getting this right", legalistic authoritarian I thought I had to be years ago.

Olivia's mom does all the heavy lifting -- I know that -- but, I hope I can help take care of some of the light work. It is a privilege and a marvelous blessing to do so.