“Gratitude bestows reverence, allowing us to encounter everyday
epiphanies, those transcendent moments of awe that change forever how we
experience life and the world.” -Sarah
Ban Breathnach
“Out of the darkness of the cross, the world transfigures
into new life. And there is no other
way.” -Ann Voskamp
“He who calls you is faithful” 1 Thessalonians 5:24
Out of the pit and into the light. Prayers of the saints carry the weary. A renewed strength. Eyes on the Grace Giver…Soul Saver…Kinsmen
Redeemer… keeps all else in check. Because
it’s here that I realize who I am and where my hope lies. That I am broken and busted up. That no matter how hard I try to fix and
change and organize and carry the self-sufficient torch to triumph, the light
snuffs out with the smallest gust of wind. Wrecked, I abandon all hope in myself…which
proves to be the safest most beautiful place where peace clears the angst. And I can finally give over the burden of
expectation to the One sweetly waiting to take it. Whose light will show me the way and whose torch
cannot be extinguished.
Because He is faithful.
He has walked close and carried our tender hearts and “taken account of
our wanderings. He has put our tears in
His bottle –Psalm 56:8”. Flames raging
all around, but we are not on fire.
Because the Lord is with us walking in the blazing furnace, protecting and
loving us (Daniel 3). Flames only to
purify and burn away dross that hinders hearts from living fully alive in
Christ.
Corrie Tem Boon in her book The Hiding Place has been
teaching me so much about grace and suffering and purpose and joy. She and her sister have been taken to a concentration
camp in the heart of Germany where the atrocity is almost too much to
bear. They ask how can they get thru
this? And God had just given them their
answer that morning as they had read their daily Bible reading (1 Thess
5:11-18) to hundreds of women in their barracks that was designed for 400 and
held 1400. Can. You. Imagine. The conditions were appalling.
“Comfort the frightened, help the weak, be
patient with everyone. See that none of
us repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to
all…’”
“Go
on, “said Betsie. “That wasn’t all.”
“Oh yes:
‘…to one another and to all.
Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for
this is the will of God in Christ Jesus”
“That’s it, Corrie! That’s His answer. ‘Give thanks in all circumstances!’ That’s what we can do. We start right now to thank God for every
single thing about this new barracks!”
I stared at her, then around me at the
dark, foul-aired room.
“Such as?” I said.
“Such as being assigned here together.”
I bit my lip. “Oh yes, Lord Jesus!”
“Such as what you’re holding in your
hands.”
I looked down at the Bible. “Yes!
Thank You, dear Lord, that there was no inspection when we entered
here! Thank you for all the women here
in this room who will meet You in these pages. “
“Yes,”
said Betsie. “Thank You for the
very crowding here. Since we’re packed
so close, that many more will hear!” She
looked at me expectantly. “Corrie!” she
prodded.
“Oh, all right. Thank You for the jammed, crammed, stuffed,
packed, suffocating crowds.”
“Thank You,” Betsie went on serenely, “for
the fleas and for—“
The fleas!
This was too much. “Betsie,
there’s no way even God can make me grateful for a flea.”
“’Give thanks in all circumstances,’” she
quoted. It doesn’t say ‘in pleasant
circumstances.’ Fleas are a part of this place where God has put us.”
And so we stood between the piers of bunks
and gave thanks for the fleas. But this
time I was sure Betsie was wrong.
A few pages later in
the book, God shows Corrie how He had used the fleas. Whenever they would hold their “worship”
services in the barracks, reading the Bible, praying, singing softly as the
Word of God was passed around in Dutch, German, French, Polish, Russian and
Czech. The guards would never enter
their room. Corrie couldn’t figure it
out since they were always in every other aspect of these prisoners’ daily
affairs. Come to find out, it was the
fleas! They wouldn’t step foot in the
barracks because they wanted to avoid the fleas. And so God had shown Corrie how even the
fleas had a role in bringing Hope and Truth and Saving Grace into this
hellacious place.
This book has taught me much and touched me deeply. The miracles they witnessed and the
perseverance and suffering for the Gospel is like nothing that I have ever
heard or seen. I am so thankful for
their lives and their story. They are
fighting for joy and love and hope in the wake of insurmountable evil and
suffering. And what beauty was birthed
from the darkness has rippled fierce and far.
God has our family here for a reason. This is His story. We have been placed in the company of a group of people that are often lost and forgotten and
discarded. An amazing chance to bring good
news of hope and salvation and redemption to hurting souls.
” For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.” -Luke 19:10. He is a relentless pursuer of the rebel. He is a Shepherd to the lost sheep who wander
far from His love. He is our great
Redeemer. He restores, renews, and heals
bleeding hearts.
We need Him so desperately and sometimes it takes
desperately horrible circumstances for us to finally see. And even that is a great mercy. For if He is all that our heart needs and
longs for and nothing else on earth could ever satisfy, how good could He be if
He let us go on our merry way thinking that the fleeting dying things in this
life are IT?
Last weekend I went to see Rick by myself. It’s been a very long time since we have had
that much time together without any interruptions and just being able to enjoy each
other and talk and laugh. The large
visiting room was crowded. He only
knew probably half of the inmates that were in there visiting with their family
and friends. He went around the room and
shared story after story of these men and what he knew of their lives and
families and hearts. So much brokenness
and sorrow. Many of them have been in
for years. Serving out the remainder of
a 20 year or more sentence in the camp. You
can only be in the camp if you have less than 10 years to serve, so many have
been transferred from higher level security prisons to this place. One of the things Rick was telling me is that
they long for pen pals. That is their
only way of really communicating with the outside world. Pen pals…hmmm…a seed of a thought planted.
Their marriages are falling apart because they don’t have
money to call their wives. Their
families can’t afford to travel to see them.
They have little to no contact with the outside world. Their treatment inside the prison is of scum
of the earth. Hardening the hardened
criminal. What would it look like if
there was some kind of ministry like Compassion where people are assigned a
child who lives in poverty in other countries and you “sponsor” them and write
to them and pray for them and encourage them.
What would it look like to start a prison ministry with something like that? Just starting with pen pals. Maybe putting a little money on their
commissary so they can call their wives and their children. To keep them connected to these relationships
so that when they get out they will have some support and stability. Because the government is not really
interested in rehabilitation. Their form
of treatment seems to be fear and force.
Rick was FINALLY seen by a doctor yesterday after over 2
weeks of waiting. He still isn’t getting
his meds. His bad cholesterol is back up
to super high levels. They say their
working on getting him the proper meds, so PLEASE PRAY for God’s swift hand in
this. He’s been sick with a cold and
lost his voice. But he has been settling
into his routine and making friends and playing chess and cards and working
out. His first job was cleaning the
front main lobby everyday where he whistled while he work. But the warden thought his mopping skills were not up to par so he was fired. He
will now be working in the green house planting tomatoes and other various
plants. I like this job. He’s not so sure. I like that he will get to see new life
spring from dark dirty earth brought on by water and light. A sweet picture of redemption.
Rick is innovative and creative. He’s been trying to create and organize some
wellness and educational groups for the inmates that would stimulate minds and
hearts and could only be positive, but has been denied all efforts. Again, I am aghast at the lack of desire to
help these people.
I read Ann Voskamp’s book A thousand Gifts a couple of years
ago and it was one of those eye opening heart changing books. It was exactly about what Corrie and her
sister are doing in their darkest hours.
Giving thanks. And it is a
discipline, especially in the overwhelming ugly circumstances, when it seems
like there is nothing to be thankful for.
But as I began to start looking…I found that there were so many gifts
that I had never even seen. A whole new
world of beauty and wonder all around that my thankless heart had been blind
to. And as I began to name the gifts and
thank God for them, something changed.
My thoughts no longer tarried in the black tar sticky hopelessness that
clings and destroys. I felt free and
full. Full of gratefulness to my sweet
Savior who loves me and gives good gifts.
Even in the dark painful pits. I
had to name them to see them. I had to
look to discover. I had to hunt. For beauty all around, laboring to see in the
black bleak shattered spoils. Sweet
succulent splendor. And joyful songs of
praise sang my heart right out of despair.
A thirst soul-garden being watered every day. And so much changed for me. And although the pain is searing at times and
I fall hard and get banged up….God’s truth and miracle of giving thanks and
what it does to my heart, beckons. And
so the fleas that infested the bed and home of these sister prisoners who were
there for helping save lives of the persecuted, reminded me again, that I can
be thankful in all things….ALL things.
And God’s glory and grace will far surpass even the most horrific of
circumstances.
May we be able to live out 1Thessalonians 5:11-18 better
because of it. Because for Corrie and
Betsie, it all became real right in their darkest hour. Those ancient words on tattered pages burned
right into the hearts of dying souls and changed everything. Because the words are Living Hope. Saving Grace.
Jesus.
“…all new life comes out of dark places, and hasn’t it
always been? All new life labors out of
the very bowels of darkness. That
fullest life itself dawns from nothing but Calvary darkness and tomb-cave black
into the radiance of Easter morning. It
is suffering that has the realest possibility to bear down and deliver
grace. And grace that chooses to bear
the cross of suffering overcomes that suffering. Darkness transfigures into grace, empty
transfigures into full. God wastes
nothing-‘makes everything work out according to his plan’ –Ephesians 1:11” –Ann
Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts
