Assorted [unedited] photos from the past week, including flowers in The Grandparents' yard, the look down from the top of the metal outside stairs going up to the youth room at church, Law's "Dora", Abigail making a snail with her hands, our cat "Murphy", sunrise this morning, moss, and the ornamental pear trees at Victory Rd. I've been taking lots of flower and other outdoor photos - Spring is definitely on it's way around here.
With the past week in mind, I'd like to share here a poem that Bro. Earl quoted from in his sermon this evening.
"Many crowd the Savior's kingdom,
Few receive His cross;
Many seek His consolation,
Few will suffer loss.
For the dear sake of the Master,
Counting all but dross.
Many sit at Jesus' table,
Few will fast with Him,
When the sorrow-cup of anguish
Trembles to the brim.
Few watch with Him in the garden,
Who have sung the hymn.
Many will confess His wisdom,
Few embrace His shame.
Many, should He smile upon them,
Will His praise proclaim;
Then, if for a while He leave them,
They desert His name.
But the souls who love Him truly,
Let woe come or bliss,
These will count their dearest hearts' blood
Not their own, but His.
Savior, Thou who thus hast loved me,
Give me love like this."
-Amy Carmichael
The past week has been an emotional one, internally. And externally, I suppose, when I'm alone, just the Lord and me.
A little over a week ago (Friday, Feb. 28) Uncle Alvin's family came to visit for a couple of days. Jaylyn and Jewel had seen a mutual friend a couple of days before, and told Trissy and me that she had asked them to pray for one of her friends. He had been out chopping trees in the woods by himself when one hit him in the head. He had been found four hours later, and now he was in the hospital.
We don't know the boy personally (just know of him) and, though it certainly didn't sound like a mere stick-a-band-aid-on-it kind of accident, I must confess that I wasn't struck by the enormity I now realize the situation possessed. I simply received the information, expressed my surprise and sympathy, may have said a prayer, and moved on. How sad. How typical - Christians, who have the indescribable privilege of speaking with God, are so often presented with others' needs, and then neglect to excercise that awesome gift on behalf of the hurting.
This past Tuesday, Mar. 4th, I received an e-mail from that mutual friend. It was a prayer request, sent out to most of her address book, I imagine. It was about T. R., her young friend.
The e-mail gave a few details of the accident and his recent progress toward recovery, then told that he'd taken a bad turn and they were trying new things to help him. It still didn't really hit me until this sentence:
"The doctors really don't know if he will make it or not, but we serve a mighty God who can heal him if it's His will!"
The doctors really don't know if he will make it or not...
I read that, and it hit me; and the impact of it was like getting kicked in the stomach. This kid is seventeen years old, people! Seventeen!! And he 'might not make it'.
Praise the Lord, this boy knows Christ as his Savior. If he dies, it will be his gain. But for those left behind... What a tremendous, unspeakable loss.
I have never prayed for healing quite like I have this past week. I've prayed for healing for adults, people close and dear to me who have already lived long, healthy, God-honoring lives, and have had a life to look back on with contentment. I've prayed that children would be granted to precious friends who had none. I've prayed for confused young Christians trying to find their way. I've prayed for the salvation of souls who I knew did not know Christ. And I've prayed for people in all of these situations with a passion and desperation and love that was so strong I often wondered that I did not explode with it.
But I've never prayed prayers for the life-or-death situation of a seventeen-year-old Christian boy.
I don't even really know T. R. I was at a youth camp five years ago, and he was there as well. He was one of the youngest campers, I was one of the oldest. We didn't really hang out together! I did notice that sharp little twelve-year-old, observing that he was packed with the potential to become a great man one day. My family goes way back with people that know him (like the family of the young lady who asked our family to pray for him), and occasionally through the years I've heard something about him, always in a good light. But he's not even my friend - I don't even know him.
Yet I have found my prayers and thoughts for him this week to be made of the same passion and desperation and love that they have for people very close and/or important to me. What causes the Lord to choose certain people for certain burdens, I don't know. But when He has chosen, you know it!
I have been praying that the Lord would spare his life. That He would heal him, and give him back all the health and mobility that he had before the accident. I've been praying that the Lord would give him a long and great life of ministry and service for Christ, and that this accident would somehow be used to lead many people to the Lord. At first I prayed also that the Lord's will would be done, even if it meant taking him Home. As the week has gone on, with natural human difficulty that part's become harder.
I got that gut-wrenching e-mail Tuesday. Wednesday morning, after dreaming about the situation, I woke up with the old song "What A Mighty God We Serve" going through my head. Haven't thought of that song in ages. Can't just be coincidence.
Two nights ago (Friday), there was some good news. The young lady sends out updates as she gets them, and I got a message saying that his blood pressure was back to normal and he was more stable.
Last night (Saturday), he was worse. Haven't heard anything today.
I'm reading through the Bible this year, and Friday morning I read 1 Samuel 2. The first chapter is about Samuel's mother, Hannah, her desire and prayer for a son, and the Lord granting her prayer. Chapter two is her prayer/song of praise to the Lord. So, with that backdrop in mind, when I read verse six of chapter two, it didn't particularly catch my attention. Until, for some reason, I went back and read it again. And the glory of it blew my mind.
"The Lord killeth, and maketh alive: He bringeth down to the grave, and bringeth up."
The Lord brought T. R. down, oh so very low - and if He chooses, He can bring him back up. That verse was such a strength all Friday. And then that hopeful message Friday night...
This morning, after last night's discouraging message, I was thinking of how hard it must be for his family. How heart-breaking. I know very little about the details of the situation, only what my friend's messages tell, and those are pretty slim updates. But if he's still in ICU, which is quite probable, his family may not even be getting to stay with him. They've got a son, a brother, a friend, hanging between life and death, and they are powerless. What heart-break indeed!
It came into my head to look up verses about how the Lord feels toward the hurting, and how He feels about healing. I didn't have alot of time before we had to leave for church, but these were the four I found right off.
"The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a broken heart; and saveth such as be of a contrite spirit." Psalm 34:18
"He healeth the broken in heart, and bindeth up their wounds." Psalm 147:3 (How appropriate!!)
"...I am the Lord that healeth thee." last part of Exodus 15:26
"...Who healeth all thy diseases;" last part of Ps. 103:3
I jotted the references down on a scrap of paper and stuck it in my Bible as we hurried out the door on our way to church, thinking I might get a chance to look them up and study them a little more between services or something.
Every Sunday morning during the music part of the service, one of the men of the church reads a verse or passage between songs. Today was Dad's turn. He also teaches a Sunday School class, and confessed that he hadn't had a chance yet to get a scripture passage picked out. With my little list in the front of my Bible, I eagerly asked if he wanted a suggestion. He gladly asked me to read him one.
I randomly picked the Ps. 103 one, but knowing that that verse was the middle of a thought, I started at the first verse of the chapter and just started reading. And when I stopped after reading through verse five, I almost didn't hear Dad say thanks or that the selection was "...just right!" - I was stunned by what I'm sure was the providence of the Lord.
"Bless the Lord, O my soul: and all that is within me, bless His holy name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits:
Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases;
Who redeemeth thy life from destruction; who crowneth thee with lovingkindness and tender mercies;
Who satisfieth thy mouth with good things; so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's." (Ps. 103:1-5)
Begin with praise, for whatever the almighty God does is right. Remember the power with which He has answered in the past. He's the one that forgives sin. He's the one that heals. He's the one that rescues life from destruction. He is the tender love and compassion that makes life good. He is the only one that satisfies. He is the one that renews youth.
Wow. Just... Wow.
Tonight, in his sermon, Bro. Earl used part of that poem I included above. So true, so good, all of it. But, thinking of T. R., the last stanza caught me, and both conviction and human pain hurt deep down in my heart.
"But the souls who love Him truly,
Let woe come or bliss,
These will count their dearest hearts' blood
Not their own, but His.
Savior, Thou who thus hast loved me,
Give me love like this."
Love enough to hold all He has given, with an open hand. Love enough to love Him whether heart-break or healing. Love enough to release the most priceless gift from Him, back to Him. Love enough to love like He loves.
I don't know what the Lord will choose to do for this young man. Whatever it is, it will be right, for it will be what He chooses.
It's almost midnight. I'd better go to bed. Soli Deo Gloria!
-Kyrie<><
