I really really
don’t have time to write this post this morning, but some ideas God just sticks
in your heart, and those ideas - they rub together and ignite a flame, and that
smoke-smell hits your nose, and where there’s smoke, well....
{ Five minutes. I’ll write this in five minutes. }
I had an excision this week. It was the second of two
procedures springing from that one night I brushed my hair back and noticed a spot
on my scalp and freaked out and showed my mother who freaked out and insisted
we show my Lyme doctor who freaked out and sent me to a dermatologist who
showed her P.A. who scheduled an appointment and grabbed a knife and cut it out.
During the excision, when the first shot of anesthesia pierced my skin and
that tiny piece of flesh was scraped out, I bit my tongue to avoid speaking
out loud what I was thinking: the frustration, the ache that something else was being taken away.
It stung. As the nurse came into apply the bandage, I rolled onto my side and prayed, Lord, you know what it was like when Lyme entered in and you know how it's robbed these years of my life, so now - why are you letting something like this happen again?
{ Three minutes }
This morning, almost a full week after the surgery, I listened to the book of 1 Peter and picked up coffee and dropped off jackets and -okay - just looked for an excuse to drive around in the
rain.
And this morning, I heard the trickle of tears flowing behind
the words of the letter, a letter written to exiles, people who didn’t just
have an inkling of what it meant to lose something: but who knew what it was
like to lose it all.
Peter’s words - I’ve always wondered if maybe he was just
penning drama the way he described the inheritance that belongs to those who have been born
again:
“...imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven
for you...”
But
this morning, I heard it: the emphasis on the living hope these people could
grab onto without fear that it would suddenly slip through their fingers. God knew the lives of these people: He knew what they needed to hear. He knew how they had hurt because their lives had changed, and how they felt like they had nothing left on this earth. He knew they needed something to hold onto, so He gave them the most glorious promise to claim as theirs. They were a people grieving losses, but in this they rejoiced.
{ Thirty seconds }
The stunning beauty of these words sinks into my soul,
filling all of the hollow spaces carved out from the losses of the years. “Though
you have not seen Him, you love Him” – would these words penetrate as deeply as
they do now if I hadn't gone through the seasons of stripping away? Merciful God, that He would
take what Satan meant for evil and use it to bring forth inexpressible joy -
In this, I
rejoice.
{ Three... two... one... }
Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus
Christ! According
to His great mercy, He
has caused us to be born again to a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus
Christ from the dead, to an inheritance that is imperishable,
undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you, who by God's
power are being guarded through
faith for a salvation ready
to be revealed in the last time. In this you
rejoice, though now for a little while, if necessary, you have been grieved by various trials, so that the tested genuineness of your
faith—more precious than gold that perishes though it is tested by fire—may be found to result in praise and glory and honor at the
revelation of Jesus Christ. Though you have
not seen Him, you love Him. Though you do not now see Him, you believe in Him
and rejoice with joy that is inexpressible and filled with glory.... ~ 1 Peter 1:3-8
