suffering

Why Do We Still Suffer?

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

Wednesday night at my church, our pastor asked an interesting question regarding 1 Peter 1:5. The passage reads, “…who, by God’s power, are being guarded through faith for a salvation ready to be revealed in the last time.” Pastor John asked us how we would respond to someone asking why Christians still suffer if our God is guarding us through faith.

In other words, if God is so powerful and loving and if He truly guards His own, why do His people still deal with sickness, loss, grief, financial ruin, and the like?

My first thought was of Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 5:1-2: “For we know that if the tent that is our earthly home is destroyed, we have a building from God, a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens. For in this tent we groan, longing to put on our heavenly dwelling…”

I think of it as the tabernacle/temple/eternity paradigm.

Incredibly, God gave us an illustration of worship in temporary accommodations while in exile when He gave the budding nation of Israel the tabernacle (a specific type of tent) in which to worship Him during their journey between Egypt, the place of their captivity, and the Promised Land. You can read about it in the book of Exodus.

Once they were in the Promised Land and a kingdom was finally established, God gave the third king of Israel permission to build a more permanent worship site – the temple (see 1 Kings 6). However, because even the temple was built from corruptible materials in this sin-corrupted world, and because the people of the young nation were also sin-sick and twisted, the nation divided and eventually the first temple fell.

Yet even the temple is just a glimpse of our ultimate eternal worship place in the very presence of God. In the future city of the New Jerusalem, there will not even be a temple, “for its temple is the Lord God the Almighty and the Lamb” (Revelation 21:22). This will be our permanent home; this will be our permanent place of worship!

So what does this have to do with tents and suffering?

This body – this life – is all temporary. What’s more, it belongs to a reality in which everything has a contrasting opposite: up and down, good and evil, fast and slow, light and dark, and so forth. But when we are “born again,” as Peter mentions in 1 Peter 1:3 (see also John 3, et al), we die to this duality and are made into a new creation – one prepared to someday live in a reality without sin, darkness, death, and decay.

Yet until then, the new creatures we are still reside in these temporary, frail containers of meat and water. In this way, our physical bodies are like tents. And for those of us who are in Christ, our current bodies are temporary residences meant to be maintained long enough to function during our sojourn on earth, but they are not our permanent homes.

We are in essence camping in a foreign and often hostile territory on an ambassadorial mission for our King. We are sent here to represent Him to the world at large as well as to convince others the value of relinquishing their earthly citizenship and joining us in exile for the promise of a homecoming like no other.

Because we are not home, we will suffer the same homesickness, feelings of isolation, and sense of being misunderstood as any other stranger in a strange land. Also, because we are still housed in bodies inextricably tied to a planet broken by evil and sin, we will suffer just as all inhabitants of this world do. Sickness, death, and pain do not pass us by just because we are citizens of a different and eternal realm. We still live here, after all.

In addition to these general sufferings, there is the added complexity that we will suffer because of our choice to align ourselves with the King of kings, especially as we navigate in a world largely hostile to His message and dead-set (pun intended) on each individual being his or her own little god and calling the shots.

Suffering is part and parcel of the tent-dweller, and yet it is not all bad. Suffering strips us of self-reliance, of hubris, of many ignoble traits and daily reminds us we are not yet home. It also daily reminds us to rely on our God who is powerful and able to sustain us, even through suffering, until the day He calls us home.

Home.

It’s because of the promise of home we endure suffering. This homecoming will be unlike any earthly homecoming, because all of earth is still under the domination of sin. When our “tents” are destroyed and we clothe ourselves with our heavenly dwelling, all the bad things of the world will be destroyed along with them.

The new reality we were born into will finally be realized in its completeness. No more sorrow, no more shame, no more sin or death or pain or tears. All will be made new – even the heavens and the earth – and we will see the beauty of our King unveiled and in His splendor.

And THAT, my friends, is worth every ounce of suffering and more!

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more. And I saw the holy city, new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, “Behold, the dwelling place of God is with man. He will dwell with them, and they will be his people, and God himself will be with them as their God. He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away.” And he who was seated on the throne said, “Behold, I am making all things new.” Also he said, “Write this down, for these words are trustworthy and true” (Revelation 21:1-5).

Where Else

~ Heather Davis ~ 6 Comments

When a person’s best efforts to serve God faithfully fall short; when life feels lonely and purposeless, your back is raw from cross-carrying, and the ministries you poured your heart and soul and everything into crash and burn, it’s tempting to wonder if the Lord really does care. Do our efforts really matter? Is all the sacrifice really worth it? At such times, only one thing stops me from quitting: I know Jesus has the words of eternal life. Where else can I go?

After this many of his disciples turned back and no longer walked with him.  So Jesus said to the twelve, “Do you want to go away as well?”  Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life,  and we have believed, and have come to know, that you are the Holy One of God” (John 6:66-69 ESV).

Even if I don’t always like the truth, it remains true.

But in all honesty, every season of trial and every dark valley I’ve walked through in life was followed by a new dawn. There are moments of rest, refreshing, and joy. Even so, the times of failure and heartache often cast long shadows.

The truth is, my call was never to make something of myself, nor indeed to make something of my children (although I desperately wanted to make them dedicated heart, mind, and soul to Christ). My call was never to comfort, convenience, or even what the world calls success. My call was – and is – to die to myself; to take up my cross daily and follow Jesus. No matter what the outcome.

Cold comfort, maybe, but comfort nonetheless because it is true.

But then, there’s the beautiful part of Truth – it IS true. Even when my hopes, dreams, and efforts have collapsed into ash and ruin, there is always a light breaking into the darkness of the tomb; a breath of hope amidst the stench of death: none of this is forever.

No pain, no failure, no sorrow or suffering will last forever. Even if the last lap of my life yields only more failure, so long as I have Christ, it is enough.

There will come a day when living no longer means pain, fruitless toil and wasted time, lonesome weariness and grief. The tiny speck of my earthly labors will be swallowed up by Life – eternity in the presence of the Glorious One.

Where else would I go? Nowhere.

Even when the way is hard and dark and full of sorrow, there is nowhere else I would rather be nor path I would rather take, because no other road leads Home.

A Theology Built on Suffering

~ Heather Davis ~ Leave a comment

My walk with the Living God is not your typical Southern I-was-raised-in-church story. Although I did attend church with my family as a child, I didn’t “get it.” Nothing in my childhood Sunday school classes penetrated to the core of my will and reason, and so I was unprepared for the inevitable hardships of life in a sin-wrecked world. I had no theology for suffering.

As a teen and young adult, I adopted a worldview based on atheistic humanism. The problem was, this worldview necessitated I remain busy and preoccupied at all times. Otherwise, the reality of pain, despair, and emptiness would press me in a suffocating embrace. From my godless perspective, suffering was meaningless, and since life held a great deal of suffering, life seemed meaningless to me as well.

Then I met my Creator through His Word, and everything changed. But the verses that first resonated with me were not the standard reassurances of God’s love – the fear nots and the comforting promises of faithful love. To the contrary, the very first Scripture I remember striking a deep chord and reverberating through my brain was from the prophet Isaiah. It was a Scripture about pain.

Behold, I have refined you, but not as silver; I have tried you in the furnace of affliction. For my own sake, for my own sake, I do it, for how should my name be profaned? My glory I will not give to another.
(Isaiah 48:10-11)

For the first time in my life, I learned the anguish and angst I’d experienced in life had a purpose. There was meaning in misery; a reason for the suffering.

The craziest idea I’d ever had took hold of me. My pain wasn’t even ultimately about me at all. It was all allowed to occur for God’s glory. And He wasn’t going to share His glory with anyone – not even with me.

In those two verses, read in the context of the entire chapter but impressed into my heart by the Holy Spirit as a personal message, I realized all my life to that point had been a refining process.

The torturous heat I’d felt, sometimes due to my own poor choices and other times inflicted upon me by circumstance, wasn’t merely rotten luck. Instead, the intense heat of anguish melted down every atom of my being in order that the ugliness inside me could be separated and removed.

Even my stupidity, my “looking for love in all the wrong places” and the horrors I’d found in dark corners I never should have probed, was included in the liquefaction. The Great Refiner applied heat to every part of me, discarding what was useless to Him and reshaping the rest into a vessel He could use – for His glory.

My pain was for His glory, and yielded to Him, it became a thing of beauty; a connection point by which I could share my eternal hope in a merciful and magnificent Creator God with others who are wounded and broken by suffering. Life and life’s pain were no longer meaningless.

From these two verses, the Holy Spirit continued to reveal a theology of suffering to me through the Word of God. I was unsurprised to read Paul’s assertion that we should rejoice in our suffering or James’s admonition to “count it all joy… when you meet trials of various kinds” (see Romans 5:2-5 and James 1:2-4).

Nor was I surprised to learn that my salvation was purchased by the suffering of the Son of God, or that my obedience to Him required further suffering. I was simply ecstatic to learn all the pain had a purpose after all.

Staying the Course

~ Heather Davis ~ 6 Comments

During my youngest daughter’s high school cross country career, I quickly learned it was no sissy sport. On the best days – cool and lovely ones – the team seemed exuberant, almost giddy after practice and I enjoyed their high spirits, gaining insight on the term runner’s high by watching them interact. But on brutal race days in the late-summer Tennessee heat, my cross country kiddos told me the only thing that helped them stay the course was knowing there was an end and a healthy fear of Coach.

And several of those races were grueling. Runners often finished their race lighter in body weight than they began it – not only from lost water weight due to heavy perspiration, but also because many of them lost the contents of their stomachs along the way. Watching them, I can only imagine what it feels like to run a marathon.

I think this is why Paul likens following Yeshua (Jesus) to running a race. There are moments where everything is working together in glorious rhythm; legs pumping with vigor, breath coming steady, and strength coursing through every atom. The cool air is a caress and the course a feast for the eyes.

Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us… (Hebrews 12:1)

But then there are those other days; days you’ve given your all, yet there’s more running to be done. Much more. Behind you on the course lie the remnants of all you hoped would bring nourishment and strength, now only waste. You’re bone weary and your very soul aches. The course is tedious and stretches on without end, cruel, unforgiving. You keep going because you know there is an end, and a healthy fear of the One who set you on this path pushes you on.

I know it’s like that for me at times. This race – the Christian race – is no 5K but an ultra marathon. It starts the moment you surrender to the Lordship of the Christ and continues until He calls you home. There are moments of unspeakable, exquisite beauty and moments of equally exquisite pain. At times, you run in harmonious fellowship, and at times you run alone – alone, that is, save for the One who sustains you by His grace.

There are high peaks and deep, dark valleys. There is pleasure and pain and loss. And yet, you run because you know the One who ran this course before is worth more than the sum total of your breath and being and experience and everything. Far more.

At first, you probably run for yourself, but as the kilometers fall away, you learn to run for Him. He is the goal; He is the very great reward.

He is the One who endured an anguish so intense, it cannot be expressed in mere human terms. His life sets you on fire; His suffering would have ended you many times over, the weight too staggering for a frail human vessel to contain. Yet He did contain it, drinking the brimful cup of righteous wrath to the bitterest dregs.

You run because you know He ran the course before you and knows every punishing hill and ankle trap.

You run, not for glory nor any feeble trophy, but for the King of kings and Lord of lords who endured the curse of humanity so those who love Him might find endurance to continue even when their strength is spent.

… let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God (Hebrews 12:1b-2).

You run for Yeshua and for the crown of life He promises those who love Him and who are faithful even to death.

I know it’s hard; it’s hard for me, too. It was harder for Him who had so much more to leave behind even to be born as a human. When I feel like giving in, I reflect on how much more He suffered to die as an outcast, scorned by the creation of His own hands.

So, keep running, friend. Don’t let the length of the course nor what you’ve left behind discourage you. Let it go, and be lighter for it. Press on for the upward goal, staying the course because you know there will be an end and the One you run for is worth far more than you have to give.

That’s what keeps me going. May it keep you as well.

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus (Philippians 3:12-14).

I write this, not because I’m running well but because I need the reminder for a torturous stretch of my race. Stay the course.

Job: A Summary of Reflections

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

A brief walk-through of a few of my reflections through my latest reading of the book of Job:

JOB 1:6 – Why do most English translations grant the accuser a proper name when the original language is merely a noun with a definite article roughly translating to “the accuser?”

JOB 1:8 – Imagine the honor of being showcased by the Almighty as an exemplary servant! I mean, yeah, the temporal consequences stunk, but still…

JOB 4:12-16 – Job’s buddy Eliphaz seems to confuse either nightmares or demonic visitation with a word from God.

JOB 8:4 – Bildad isn’t the most comforting, either. I can’t do better than the paraphrase of this verse I heard on Wednesday night: “Sorry your kids are dead, but they probably deserved it.”

JOB 11:6b – And his pal Zophar tends more toward condemning than comforting, too. The title of this section in the ESV says it all.

JOB 13:5 (NIV) – Nice one, Job. Silence would indeed suit these guys well.

MOST OF JOB – Lord, help me not to be like Job’s fair-weather friends. Teach me how to shut my mouth and listen more. Also, I hope Job got some better friends after this crisis.

JOB 38 – What is it about the human race (yours truly included) that makes us believe we are actually entitled to know things? We are created things yet we somehow think all our whys should be indulged by an answer, as if we could possibly grasp the vast and ancient wisdom of the Ancient of Days. How like a small child we are, sulking when our Father doesn’t provide us with an answer we can come to terms with and not realizing we aren’t even capable or understanding even if He deigned to tell us (see also Genesis 2:16-17; 3:6).

JOB 41 – What in the sweet summer sunshine is Leviathan and how can I avoid ever meeting one??

My overall takeaway from this past reading of Job is to stay in my lane and trust my God even when nothing around me makes any sense. Lord, help us to remember who we are and who You are, amen!

Migraine Phase Three | The Attack

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

It is good for me that I was afflicted, that I might learn your statutes. The law of your mouth is better to me than thousands of gold and silver pieces.

Psalm 119:71-72

There’s not much funny about this phase. However, I can’t say there’s nothing good about it. But first, a couple of details: the attack or headache phase is the most straight-forward. It’s <drum roll> a headache!

But it is not just a headache. A migraine is a very distinct kind of headache, usually (but not always) one-sided with a pulsing, pounding, or throbbing quality. I used to liken the early sensation to a gong being rhythmically and silently struck behind my left eyeball, although that probably only makes sense if you’ve ever been close enough to a gong to feel the vibrations in your teeth – or if you happen to have migraines similar to mine.

Of course, medication helps in varying degrees, but without medication (and sometimes even with it ) there’s a lot that goes on.

Besides head pain, this phase also comes with a complement of varied and sometimes bizarre symptoms. Nausea, vomiting, confusion, fatigue, and sensitivity to light and sound are common for most migraineurs. And when I say nausea, I mean that you feel like you’re going to vomit if you move even an eyelash, you do vomit if you move even an eyelash, and you pray you can vomit in a dark, quiet place or else the pain quadruples (and if your stomach does rebel, the cool tile of the bathroom floor seems a perfectly sensible place to ride out the rest of the storm. After all, any attempt to exit the necessary room would only bring you back).

Aside from the typical complement of migraine headache symptoms, my personal little collection includes facial pain, muscle spasms in my neck or upper back, and a sensation that my heart is pounding along with an ability to hear or feel it pound in my left ear. In addition, my husband always tells me I feel feverish but I never have a fever. There’s also a kind of weird altered consciousness that I couldn’t describe if you asked me to – just a sense of everything being ever-so-slightly off.

I said earlier that the prodromal phase is the longest, but that’s only true when medication works. An unmedicated episodic migraine headache can last anywhere from four to 72 hours.

Then there’s chronic migraine.

For nearly a decade of my life, I had chronic migraine and “status migrainosus,” meaning a migraine that never really went away. You heard that right – a years-long headache that waxed and waned but never disappeared. And yes, it came with all of the above symptoms mixed in with prodromal and postdromal symptoms in a kind of general stew of unwellness; a sort of ouroboros of illness.

It was impossible to sort out, and much more than just a headache. But medication helps, and I literally praise God for triptans and for giving human beings the ability to concoct medications!

But let me circle back to my second statement of this post: there are good things about the headache phase.

It was during a medication-resistant migraine as I lay in a darkish room with my arm draped over my eyes that I first really grasped what the Lord Jesus did for humanity.

The thing is, I rebelled against my Creator, mocked Him, mocked His people, and tried to set myself up as my own little deity. For this, I deserve annihilation. Pain is a mercy, when you think about it, because pain is a signal that there’s something wrong. And if you deserve to be unmade, pain is a slap on the hand. Even after surrendering to the Lord, I fall short of holiness every day. Even my very best deeds are tainted by selfishness. If I may be brutal in my candor, I have become keenly aware of my own thirst for reciprocity or recognition and I would love to be free of it. I am far from selfless.

But the entire earthly life of Jesus exemplified selflessness. He did not deserve pain; He didn’t even deserve to don this moist and malfunctioning mess of meat, bone, nerve, and vessels we call a body.

The One through Whom all things were created didn’t deserve to submit to the humiliation of becoming an infant; of being hungry or thirsty or cold or any of the unpleasantness that comes of being human. And He most certainly did not deserve to have the eternal fellowship with the Father severed by taking on the foulness of my sin – not to mention the sins of the entire world – and endure an excruciating death devised by the twisted mind of His own creation.

Yet He entered into sorrow and anguish to pay the cost of all our sin in order that we could be free from it and once more enter into the Divine Presence by donning the righteousness of Jesus to cover our shame. Because of this, I have found a sweetness in my suffering and a unique fellowship with my Lord in pain.

Because of what He endured for me, I am even able to thank Him for the pain that helped me understand a little bit more. It is good for me that I was afflicted.

The Long Haul

~ Heather Davis ~ 9 Comments

For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead.

2 Corinthians 1:8-9

I thought I’d steal a few precious minutes to give an update from my little corner of the South. A quick note to my Facebook followers before I dive in: Even if this article posts to Facebook, I am taking a break from Zuckerberg’s social media platforms for a time. So if you have a comment to share, please share it here on WordPress… or better yet, consider helping support this writing ministry by visiting my Patreon page! Become a Patron!

I’ll be offering extras for my Patreon supporters, building in more as I go, but this blog will remain free (and sparse so long as our family’s needs require me to work outside the home!)

It’s been an interesting year. I’ve been working part-time at my kids’ school teaching cell phone photography to middle school students – a feat roughly equivalent to swallowing live eels while guiding two dogs, eighteen kittens, and a chicken safely through New York City using a homemade map and the Force.

And while it must be admitted that middle schoolers spend more energy attempting to circumnavigate the school’s network restrictions than taking photos with their phones, it can still be fun to see the photos they do take and hear their thoughts.

Then a week before Christmas break, I came down with the Bane of 2020 – COVID 19. My symptoms were mild and I recovered at home over the break. But a couple weeks after I began feeling better, the body aches and fatigue came crashing back. And again a couple weeks after that… and again… and again…

So here I am in mid-March wrestling with unpleasant facts: Not only am I blessed with the invisible illness of ME/CFS, I also get a free – and equally invisible – membership to the COVID Long Haulers’ Club.

Not fun. Incredibly humbling. But nonetheless, I am blessed.

I admit, this blessing doesn’t really feel like one. If given a menu of blessings, it isn’t one I would have selected. And it doesn’t go particularly well with the 70% pay reduction our family tasted in 2020, nor with the 2-car, 4-driver dynamic we’ve been noshing on since last fall, nor with any of the banquet of bland fiscal fare we’ve been sampling in the last 18 or so months. But it’s a blessing still.

I don’t know when, I don’t know why, and I absolutely don’t know how, but I do know the Lord will use this newest struggle in some way for the comfort of His people. Perhaps in some way I will be able to speak to those who share in this weird and unpredictable cycle of flu-like aching and exhaustion and point them to the comfort I have in Christ.

Or maybe the Lord simply wants to make His power abundantly known in my profound weakness.

I have no idea what to expect. All I know is that I committed myself years ago to walk the narrow, difficult path that leads to life. Whether this current dark valley is a brief foray of reduced visibility or just the beginnings of another steep descent into utter blackness, I have no way of knowing. The road curves just ahead and I have only enough Light for the path beneath my feet.

Still, no matter where this Way leads and no matter how short or long the journey, I know I never walk alone. The Lord Yeshua is with me. Regardless of the personal cost, with Him as my Guide I am in it for the long haul.

Unmasked

~ Heather Davis ~ Leave a comment

Share in suffering as a good soldier of Christ Jesus. No soldier gets entangled in civilian pursuits, since his aim is to please the one who enlisted him.

2 Timothy 2:3-4

Here’s a bit of irony for you: the issue of whether or not to wear a mask has unmasked a disturbing dereliction of duty within the Church.

If only the problem were confined to small bits of cloth…

But it isn’t. Every time I browse social media, a heaviness invades my heart.

So much of my feed brims with frustration. So many responses are subtly, or even overtly, hostile. So many opinions flung into virtual print seethe with smugness and accusation but lack verifiable data.

It’s sad to see the bickering in the secular world, but it’s appalling to see it within the Body of Christ. It’s as if we’ve forgotten who our enemy is.

Our enemy is not the lady asking you to please put on a mask in the grocery entryway, nor is it the man walking around without one.

Politicians, political parties, billion dollar industries, liberals, conservatives, illnesses, treatments, “THEM” – none of these are our enemies. And none will be our savior.

In truth, all the issues causing us distress and mouth-foaming rage are temporary. Transient. A vapor soon dispersed by the wind.

For those of us who are in Christ, the time we spend here is not a matter of rights or politics or safety. It’s a matter of eternal life or death.

Brothers and sisters, the hour is growing late. We are ambassadors for the King, and it’s imperative we remember what this means.

And if I may be frank, getting caught up in the swirling digital babble clamoring over politics and masks and disease numbers and the maelstrom of controversy does not point the hurting, sin-weary heart to Christ.

We are called to share in suffering, not dodge it. We willingly sacrifice all else in order to proclaim forgiveness of sin through the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

If we are in Christ, our allegiance is not to any worldly agenda. It is to God’s agenda, and it we take it up at any cost to ourselves. A quick glance through the pages of Scripture yields several examples.

Jeremiah endured public ridicule and imprisonment, but not for his rights – for the Word of God. And he did it after God told him no one would listen.

Hosea did not place his right to a happy and satisfying marriage over his obedience to God’s command to marry an unfaithful prostitute. The command of God superseded his rights and he knew it. And acted on it.

Ezekiel did not spend over a year lying on his left side and eating bread baked over a poop fire because it brought him joy. He did it for the Lord.

Paul did not suffer persecution, torture, and chains by standing up for his earthly freedoms. He, too, did it for the honor of serving the Lord.

They knew what today’s Church seems to have forgotten. This world is dark, broken, horrible. Bad things will happen. And yes, we will lose rights and freedoms; we will be persecuted. We will suffer harm.

But if we belong to Christ, we will not be overcome so long as we remain faithful to Him and His calling on our lives. But we must have a willingness to share in suffering as good soldiers.

The enemy is not out there, fudging numbers and plotting to cover the faces of the globe with cloth. The true enemy works intimately, stirring up our pride; our selfishness; our sin.

Mine. Yours.

And he is gloating over our distraction from our primary purpose as ambassadors for the Kingdom of God. Let’s no longer give him the satisfaction.

See that no one repays anyone evil for evil, 
but always seek to do good to one another and to everyone. 
Rejoice always, 
pray without ceasing, 
give thanks in all circumstances; 
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you. 
Do not quench the Spirit. 
Do not despise prophecies, but test everything;
hold fast what is good. 
Abstain from every form of evil. 
Now may the God of peace himself sanctify you completely, 
and may your whole spirit and soul and body be kept blameless at the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. 
He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it.
1 Thessalonians 5:15-24

Flowers for Floyd (and Aubery and Breonna and…)

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together. Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.

1 Corinthians 12:26-27

I have so much to say and so little time to say it. My heart grieves for my black brothers and sisters. My heart also grieves for my nation, torn apart by violence and division.

If you haven’t already, I urge you to watch this conversation, especially if you are a white Christian. Dr. Phillips brings some very useful insight and perspective into the plight of our darker-skinned brothers and sisters. We are still part of one body. Let’s suffer together now and look forward to the great Day when we can rejoice together forever.

And let’s do what we can.

It may be a small thing, but for the last 19 years, I’ve done my best to raise children who see one race – the human race; a race with a beautiful array of skin colors, sizes, shapes, and so forth. I’ve taught them to look at a person’s heart and attitudes, not their outward appearance. And I’ve taught them the most by living it out, because I’ve always loathed racism in all forms.

Already, it’s time for me to go to work. But I am praying. I’m praying for an end to the underlying implicit cultural memory which may well be what lurks at the root of the problem in America. I’m praying for those who belittle peaceful protests by using them as a cover for evil. And I’m praying for those who hurt, who are afraid, who are grieving.

My Lord saves. He comforts those who mourn. He binds up the brokenhearted. Because of this, I also pray that all who do not know Him will be drawn to His love and given peace in place of turmoil and joy in place of sorrow.

I love you. ALL of you. No matter how much or little pigment your skin contains. We are all bearers of the Divine Image. We are in this life together. Let’s draw close to the One who made us and close to each other in love.

For only in Christ can we truly be made whole.

The Spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me to bring good news to the poor; he has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and the opening of the prison to those who are bound; to proclaim the year of the LORD’s favor, and the day of vengeance of our God; to comfort all who mourn; to grant to those who mourn in Zion— to give them a beautiful headdress instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, the garment of praise instead of a faint spirit; that they may be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the LORD, that he may be glorified.

Isaiah 61:1-3

And he [Jesus] began to say to them, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

Luke 4:21

Christmas Present

~ Heather Davis ~ 2 Comments

For it has been granted to you that for the sake of Christ you should not only believe in him but also suffer for his sake…

Philippians 1:29

It’s that time of the year when peppermint and pine have staged a coup and sent all things pumpkin spice into an ignoble retreat to the clearance shelves.

The North Pole has launched its annual penetration into American homes as well. All over social media, parents are documenting their complicity with the greatest stalker of our age, the Great Elf Himself (you know who I mean – the man in the red suit), by positioning his elvish spy network in various locations throughout their homes. Evidently this is how he sees you when you’re sleeping and knows when you’re awake…

But of course, all of this martial festivity is a feint to disguise the main offensive which targets our contentment and will lay siege to bank accounts and credit lines for the month of December: the tantalizing lure of the perfect gift.

Ah, Christmas!

Is it just me who sees the irony in all the smiling faces and twinkling lights when the first Christmas was celebrated in the murky stink of a stable? When the first Gift was born to be raised up as the Lamb of God who would be slaughtered to take away the sins of the world?

Perhaps this is why Paul told the Philippian church it had been granted to them to suffer for Christ.

Being a nerd, I had to peek into the original Greek and research the word translated granted. That word, transliterated echaristhe, carries the connotation of doing a favor, graciously bestowing, or giving freely.

Think about this: the Philippian church had been favored with suffering for Christ’s sake.

If you’ve read this blog for long, you’ll know that I have written about the unusual blessing of chronic migraine and what my God has done in me through pain. But I can hardly say I’ve suffered for His sake; I’ve just learned – or rather, am learning – to suffer well for His glory.

But meditating on this verse lately has changed the way I pray for my kids.

Like most parents, I’ve wanted to give my kids good gifts. I’ve longed for them to learn from my mistakes and spare themselves the hardship of self-imposed suffering. I’ve sincerely desired for them to have a better life than mine; to make better choices and live with less difficulty.

But by praying for them to be spared hardship, struggle, and suffering, am I praying to deny them a wonderful, God-given favor?

As I look back over my life, I see suffering that I had no control over, but I see more well-deserved suffering brought on by stubborn attempts to live for myself.

I’ve no right to complain about any suffering, really, when I consider that my Creator chose to join in human suffering despite never engaging in human sin. But I have zero reason to complain when I brought pain down on my own head simply because I refused to obey God – or at one point, refused to acknowledge Him at all.

Yet in His astonishing grace, even the harrowing consequences of my crimes are redeemed. Once I surrendered myself utterly to the Lord, He even turned the most awful, negative consequences of my sin into a glorious gift.

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. For those whom he foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the image of his Son, in order that he might be the firstborn among many brothers.

Romans 8:28-29

And He really does. In the economy of my Sovereign, truly nothing is wasted!

And so, I no longer pray that my young people will be spared suffering.

Instead, I have begun to pray that no matter how or why they suffer in this life – whether brought on by their choices or thrust upon them by others – God will give them the grace to suffer well.

By suffering, I pray they will be drawn closer and ever closer to the redemptive, compassionate heart of God. That they will choose to suffer for Him for a little while so they can rejoice together with Him for all eternity.

And when I think of suffering in the terms of eternity, what gracious favor is offered to us – embrace suffering for few paltry decades with the promise of everlasting joy to look forward to when it’s done.

What a gift, indeed!