Elizabeth’s

Something No One Told Me Might Happen {Velvet Ashes}

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gva

Elizabeth is over at Velvet Ashes today, talking about how she unexpectedly found her gifts overseas:

About five years ago I said “yes” to the adventure of living overseas. I didn’t know all that might entail, but I knew I loved the God who had asked me to move, and I was determined to follow Him. I didn’t, however, know exactly what to expect.

I heard a little bit of what to expect at our pre-field training. There, someone warned me that stepping on a plane wouldn’t turn me into a different person, or magically make me a superhero Christian. No, I would be the same person as always, possessing the same old faults.

And that’s true — I didn’t turn into a different person. In fact, stepping off that plane and entering an unfamiliar culture had the additional effect of revealing my faults, of laying bare my sin problems and defects in character.

But something else happened, too. Something surprising and unexpected, something no one told me might happen: I discovered gifts I’d never had before. They were new and previously unknown gifts. But they were never meant for me – they were meant to be poured out for others. More importantly, they were meant to be poured out for Him.

You can read the rest of the post here.

More Seizure Coma Death Moments

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by Elizabeth

This blog post is brought to you by a 100% Harm Avoidance gal, in the spirit of a life lived the Seizure Coma Death way. I present to you now, purely for your reading pleasure, true stories from this last month:

I.

A fever and a hacking cough recently afflicted my youngest daughter. One night as she’s crying in pain, I wake to give her more Tylenol, to bring down her fever. I leave her room thinking, “Hmmm, she’s worse than the night before, when she slept all night without her fever spiking.” I begin to worry thus: Oh no, it’s probably that new mutant strain of the flu that’s worse than most flus but starts as a regular cold and gets worse and worse and worse until. . . it moves into the lungs and my baby might DIE.

II.

And then, as I crawl back into bed, I notice that my big toe is hurting. This is my OTHER big toe, because the first one is already fighting an infected/ingrown nail. When I realize both toes are hurting, I think, Oh no!!! I have DIABETES!! I never knew a 5-pound weight gain could be enough to propel me into type 2 diabetes. I am going to be stuck the rest of my life having to take meds for this.

So I toss and turn awhile and Jonathan finally notices and asks, “Are you ok?” I answer, “NO! I am not ok! I think I have diabetes. Both my toes hurt. My feet aren’t healing.” He retorts, “The reason feet are a problem for diabetics is because they CAN’T feel their feet, not because they CAN; your feet are fine. Go back to bed.” So I try. Even though my toes are still in pain.

The weather here affects my feet I guess, making them more dry and calloused than usual. So maybe I need to invest in some sort of foot cream.

But probably not Metformin.

Yet.

III.

Later that week, a killer mosquito attacks Jonathan and me. First, it attacks him. We had gone to bed early that night to try to recover from the sleep loss associated with, you know, COUGHING KID. So we are tossing and turning, in and out of sleep, listening to our dear sweet little hacker, when suddenly he jumps out of bed, all flustered, saying a mosquito bit him on the lip. It’s swelling HUGE, and it hurts. I give him the Benadryl cream and we look for, but cannot find, the Perpetrator.

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I cover my entire self with the sheets, except for my face, so I can, you know, BREATHE, and I fall back asleep. Then about an hour later, I wake up with a pain in my lip, and it’s a teeny tiny bit itchy. Fearing the worst, I run to the bathroom, only to discover a bite that is TAKING OVER MY FACE. Numbness and tingling spread all the way down to my chin. My lip simultaneously balloons outward and swells all the way INTO my mouth, where I can feel the bulge on the inside of my lips. I think: And when the swelling reaches my windpipe, I will die.

So I slather on the Benadryl cream and search for that blasted mosquito. When I finally find it, I swipe at it with the electric bug zapper. The zapper buzzes the mosquito no fewer than 5 times (usually 1 or 2 zaps is enough to slay a mosquito). When it falls to the ground, it is STILL WRITHING. Of course, even a mosquito as hardy as that can’t survive my foot: one stomp finishes the job nicely.

It takes all night for the swelling on my lip to go down. The tingling doesn’t fully subside until later the next day.

But my airways are still intact.

For now.

He Unbreaks It

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by Elizabeth

The Twelve Days of Christmas are past; it is Epiphany. Today — the day we commemorate the Wise Men’s visit to Baby Jesus — is our official farewell to the Christmas season. But can I linger on the Christmas story just a little bit longer? Because I’m not quite ready to say goodbye.

I’m amazed by the sheer number of times Heaven enters our world in the events leading up to and surrounding the birth of Christ. First the angel Gabriel, who stands in the very presence of God, appears to Zechariah, foretelling the birth of a son – a prophet — to a barren woman.

Then Gabriel appears to Mary with a message unlike any other, announcing a calling unlike any other: she will give birth to the Son of the Most High. She has been chosen to mother the Messiah, to carry the One whose Kingdom will never end. Of one thing this young Virgin is certain: the God we serve is the God of the Impossible.

And when Mary arrives at Elizabeth’s home and the Holy Spirit fills Elizabeth, causing her to prophesy over Mary, oh, it just takes my breath away. For here in this moment, God trusts not an angel but a fallen human being to deliver confirmation that Mary isn’t crazy, that she isn’t alone, and that the Child within her truly is special.

Joseph is visited in a dream that both confirms the Virgin Birth and ensures that the Babe’s birthplace will be in Bethlehem, just as the Scriptures promise. I’m not one to put too much stock in our night dreams, so I’m thankful Mary’s husband takes heed of his.

And then there were the shepherds, night-shift-workers minding their own business. Non-essential players all – until they hear the host of Heaven, that is. Nudged onto the stage of the Nativity, they travel to the city of David, where their arrival on the stable’s doorstep confirms to Mary and Joseph yet again the specialness of this Child.

Joseph and Mary, good Jewish parents that they are, dedicate their son at the Temple. And God confirms His word once more, this time through a praying woman and a dying man. The identity of God’s Son is revealed to Simeon and Anna, bolstering both the freshly-minted parents and the elderly faithfuls: this is the beauty of the gift of prophecy.

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I’m overwhelmed by the lengths God went to in order to confirm His Word and the coming of His Son. Over and over again, He speaks. Mary certainly had many things to treasure in her heart, to remind herself that she was indeed NOT crazy. But the part about the Christmas story I cherish so very much is what we celebrate today – God’s inclusion of pagans in His redemption story.

These pagans, these Wise Men from the East, were not of the family of Israel. These Magi, these star-gazers, placed their trust in the sky. But God speaks their language: He gives them a sign in their beloved sky. And when their faith leads them to seek and find the Promised Child, they worship Him. God rewards their sacrifices with another sign, this time a dream to send them safely on their way back home. I absolutely love this about God, that He invites ALL people to be part of His story, to be part of His family, to receive His salvation.

Epiphany means “to make manifest.” And today, we rejoice in this Epiphany. We rejoice that God makes Himself known not only to Israelites but also to Gentiles like the Wise Men — to a Gentile like myself. We rejoice that from the very beginning, God wanted communion with every single person He created – and that when He made Himself manifest to Abraham, it was to bless all families on earth. His covenant was not only meant to set Abraham apart, it was meant to draw all people to Him.

So on this day, we honor the heart of the Father, a heart that beats with longing for us.

For all of us.

This world He made, we broke it.

But He unbreaks it.

He unbreaks it, through a tiny Baby.

He unbreaks it, one recaptured soul at a time.

All people may come — praying saints, dirty shepherds, unexpected pagans from afar.

His will is for all to hear His voice, to see His star.

His will is for all to turn toward Him, to journey to Him.

His desire is for the nations.

Glory be to God.

What Good is That??

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by Elizabeth

It’s such a familiar story, this feeding of the five thousand. I’ve known it since forever.

Jesus sees a huge crowd of people coming to look for Him and asks Philip, “Where can we buy bread to feed all these people?” When Philip only answers that they don’t have enough money to purchase food for everyone, Andrew points out a young boy with five barley loaves and two fish. “But what good is that with this huge crowd?” Andrew asks.

But what good is that??

What good is that?

This is something I repeatedly say to God.

“I offer you this, God. My life, my heart, my all.”

And then I turn around and faithlessly say, “but what good is that, with 7 billion people on this planet?” It’s nothing, not good for anything. You’ll never do anything important or valuable with that, I tell Him.

But Jesus is never in a quandary about how to use His created resources — when He spoke to Philip, “He already knew what He was going to do.” He already knew He was going to provide for the people. He already knew He was going to use a small sack lunch to feed the hungry crowd. He already knew He was going to perform a miracle, and blow their minds yet again.

He already knew.

He knew He didn’t need much from the boy, only a little bit. He knew a meager offering is all that’s required, because God Himself would multiply it.

And after He multiplies it, and everyone has eaten as much as they wanted, Jesus instructs them to “gather the leftovers so nothing is wasted.”

So nothing is wasted.

First He takes next-to-nothing from one of His followers. Then He multiplies it, filling empty bellies. And then — oh then — He scoops up the leftover bits of His miracle-working, and He wastes none of it. Not a single scrap.

So when I mourn over my offering to Him, grieving that it’s not enough, I should perhaps dry my eyes. I should perhaps remember instead. Remember that He is the One who gave me my loaves and fish in the first place. Remember that when I offer my daily bread back to Him, He will use it as He sees fit. Remember that He is the One who will multiply my small sacrifices for His own glory. Remember that He is the One who uses even the leftovers of His miracles. Remember that He is the One who will never waste my worship.

So when I tell Him still one more time, “what good is that, God,” perhaps I would be better served simply to still my mouth, to quiet my questions, and to wait. To wait, and keep watch for Him to use even the crumbs of my life for Himself.

Which is all I really want anyway.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He takes no pleasure in the strength of a horse or of human might.

No, the Lord’s delight is in those who fear Him,

those who put their hope in His unfailing Love.

Psalm 147:10-11

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The Fool of God

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by Elizabeth

In John 7:37-38 we read that “On the last day, the climax of the festival, Jesus stood and shouted to the crowds, ‘Anyone who is thirsty may come to Me! Anyone who believes in Me may come and drink!'” These statements are followed by an uproar in the crowds.

When I read these verses earlier this week, I realized afresh that people must have thought Jesus was crazy. I certainly would have. Yet He was not deterred: early the next morning, we see Him back at the Temple, teaching the crowds.

It wasn’t enough for Jesus to go to the synagogue as He did in Luke 4, to read the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, and to declare the fulfillment of that Scripture that very day. No, he had to keep.doing.crazy.things.

I am sure if I had been a regular religious person in that time, I would have thought he was nuts, not that He was a prophet — or even less likely, the Messiah. He was always speaking in riddles and parables, and I’m sure even if I HAD been His disciple, I wouldn’t have understood even half of what He was saying. I might have been hopelessly lost, even with the Savior of the world standing right in front of me.

As I thought about this, I remembered Michael Card’s song “God’s Own Fool.” His songs are sometimes deceptively short, but the lyrics are incredibly rich in meaning:

Seems I’ve imagined Him all of my life
As the wisest of all of mankind
But if God’s Holy wisdom is foolish to man
He must have seemed out of His mind
Even His family said He was mad
And the priest said a demon’s to blame
But, God in the form of this angry young man
Could not have seemed perfectly sane

We in our foolishness thought we were wise
He played the fool and He opened our eyes
We in our weakness believed we were strong
He became helpless to show we were wrong

So we follow God’s own Fool
For only the foolish can tell
Believe the unbelievable, come be a fool as well

So come lose your life for a carpenter’s son
For a madman who died for a dream
And You’ll have the faith His first followers had
And you’ll feel the weight of the beam
So surrender the hunger to say you must know
Find the courage to say I believe
For the power of paradox opens your eyes
And blinds those who say they can see

So we follow God’s own Fool
For only the foolish can tell
Believe the unbelievable, come be a fool as well