To my dear friends:
Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life. (Pro 13:12)
The year my father died defined a complete change in my life. I was thirteen and the middle child. I was closest to my father and yet there was a tension at the same time. His sudden death was a time of family rallying around us to make it better. In my mind, it was futile. I just wanted to be left alone, but it became a very busy and trying year. We were immediately introduced to church. That was one aunt's way of helping. It did, but not exactly, the way she had expected. My mother's brothers came over to provide some manly help from time to time. We moved three times that first year.
During that summer, we went to San Diego to see my mother's sister and her husband. They had no kids. For the five of us kids, it would prove to be a long week. While my uncle was driving us around and all five kids were in the back seat, he asked if we wanted to see the San Diego Zoo. We all said yes but then he turned back toward home and we never went. Later that day, my aunt found me in the backyard sulking and in tears. She figured that I missed my dad and came to comfort me. I told her that I didn't understand why my uncle would ask us if we wanted to go to the zoo then not take us. I really wanted to go. I loved animals. She told me that the way we said it sounded like we could care less, so he thought we were not interested. I merely told her she was wrong. I never liked him after that.
I come from a family of broken promises. As with many families, it starts with the cute little baby pictures and then begins to get out of focus. Sin enters in and relationships are damaged. People, who said they would be there for you, leave. People who said they loved you, act like they don't. Things they said you would get to do never happened. Hope is destroyed. Where hope is destroyed, so is the faith to hope again. When my uncle asked us if we wanted to go to the zoo our answer was true, but it lacked hope. He took it as ambivalence or disinterest.
What he couldn't see was fear. Fear of being hurt again. We were right. We were disappointed again. Hope was crushed. We didn't understand that we caused it ourselves, but we were certain that it would happen. It became clear that letting others make decisions for us meant that our needs would not be met. We had little hope.
When I met Jesus, I saw the same cycle begin again. I had become very controlling so that the only way that hope would be lost or differed was because of me. Now, Jesus had been introduced into my thinking. Hope, of salvation, peace, and love. How could I reach for that?
I was introduced to Jesus long before I accepted Him. In fact, soon after my father's death, church became mandatory. I went through catechism and learned the basic tenets of faith. I was baptized Lutheran, and joined the church, never making a commitment to Christ. I went because I was told and stayed because I could serve. Jesus was an adjunct that no one really required of me. I merely needed to know about Him, not live for Him. This suited me as I could look good to others and keep control of my life. It was a hollow place, I used control to fill.
As soon as I was an adult, I left the church. Control was still my god for the hope I wanted was always couched in the knowledge of what I could do. I did not disappoint myself as I had a clear understanding of my abilities and limits. They served me well and I finished an education, had some unique jobs, and finally became the teacher I had hoped to become. Why then was my life just like the kid in my aunt's backyard? Feeling as if I had hoped for something and then not gotten it?
Finally, when the pain got too intense, I went back to church. The church I am presently attending. I did so on a challenge from a good psychologist. Nothing changed. People were still undependable. I was still let down and life was still something that gave only empty clouds. There was no rain unless I made it myself. However, I was drawn to stay there. I heard something different but I didn't know what it was.
On the Easter of 1987, I watched a simple musical called "Then Came the Morning." The players were my acquaintances it all seemed so safe. Then, my morning came. I saw Jesus for who He really was. The sacrifice. I also saw Him for who He had said He would be: the completion. I was physically shaken by the words Christ uttered on the cross, "It is finished." I knew how much things in my life needed to be finished and I had found someone who could do it. But, would this become another empty promise? Was this just a story? Would I be left in the backyard wondering why no one ever heard me?
I decided that I had to try it. The problem was that there was no "trying it." Instinctively, I knew that I had to trust Him with everything. I couldn't try, I had to take what He offered and never renege on that. I sat in that pew so conflicted. "Just speak it," the voice in my head cried. Then my heart returned, "But what if nothing comes of it?" My head and heart fought through the musical but eventually they both won. I gave up control. I gave my heart to Jesus.
I had believed, but I had not come. To come, meant letting Jesus have it all and following Him, lose control, and trust another. Both must happen. To me, believing was a safe place. Keep the facts right, know what there is to know.
I saw this move and every other event in my life as a contract. I will do my part of the bargain and you do yours. I was always angry because others never kept up their end of the bargain. I thought that I had. Life was nothing but broken contracts. Now, I was entering into a covenant. The onus was on God. He had set the parameters and the outcome for me was eternal life if I would merely come. It didn't depend on what would be done in the future because it was already done! "It is finished!" All I had to do was accept the covenant. What a monumental shift in thinking!
I did come and hoped that there would be some obvious outward sign that God was in on this covenant. There was not, at least for a while. I had to believe without any signs. Soon the signs started to come. I realized that I was not angry any longer. After thirty years of drinking, I was finally able to stop. Slowly I stopped making silent contracts with people and trying to control everything. Life became easier and I became hungry to know this God who would keep His promises.
We have now spent 23 years together. I am always learning more. God has provided everything He promised. I have not always been true but His forgiveness outweighs all of that.
The question that begs to be asked is, "what about this cancer?" Did I expect this as a believer? Honestly, no. Does it matter? No. Because the covenant is not that Jesus will keep me safe it is that He will make me holy; sanctification. This I see Him doing in so many ways. He waited to allow this cancer until both my husband and I were Christians. He knew we would need to be equipped. Since then, the journey has been all His. He has guided us, answered the questions, loved us, and grown us. The covenant was not about making my life perfect, I will have that in Heaven, it was about letting God have control of my life. In doing so, I must accept whatever He puts in my life to bring me closer to Him. I admit that, before I was diagnosed with this cancer, I thought I was close to Jesus. Now I see how far I was from Him. I am guessing that the closeness we now share is not as close as it can get. Now I seek to be closer not satisfied.
That does not mean that some of God's decisions are not difficult to handle. I have asked for healing almost daily. Many of you have done the same. It does not come. At the same time, I have asked for God's will in my life even if that will differs from mine. Apparently it does. Does that mean that God does not love me or that He is not keeping His covenant with me, of course not. God showed me His love by allowing His Son to die on a cross for me. He would have done that if I were the only person in the world who needed to be saved. I could never love like that. He has shown me so much love that I believe that His not healing me is an act of love. I just don't understand it.
It is very difficult to let go of the life scripts that we build to protect ourselves from the hurts of life. I know now that I was not ready for forty years. I could see the gift in front of me but found no way to reach out and take it. Please, understand that this is completely different from anything you have ever known. God is not like us. He does what He says He will do. He will give you an eternal life that is magnificent. Reach past your fears. Believe in Jesus and come to Him.
This is my prayer for everyone who is reading this and has not made that step of faith. For those of you who have made that step, pray with me for the others. I love you all so much and I really want to see you in Heaven. It is clear to me that prayer is the way God moves in all our lives. Please contact me if you have prayer needs. I will pray for you. As I send this out I also ask that you pray for me. Who knows maybe this is a time for God to heal me. If it is not then pray that I will have the grace to accept His will and to change my will to match His.
With all my love
Marj.
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