I said good-bye this week to my oldest, dropped him off at the airport and watched him disappear with his carry-on, following his itinerary back to the life he is carving out on the other side of the country. I am growing accustomed to this new relationship that is mostly carried out in words, on a screen, and only occasionally face-to-face– but oh how good it was for a short while to wrap my arms around him again, see his eyes, fall back into the familiar rhythms of family again around the table, in the car, morning and evening. Next time he comes home it will be for his sister’s wedding, and there will be more good-byes to face. It is hard to think of, makes me want to hang on just a little longer to the way things are. But the truth of Christus Victor resounds within: Christ is risen and that changes everything in this world. There is a Hero who has come to save us, and slay the dragons, and there will always be a happy ending to our stories now, even when we walk in shadows for awhile. Good-bye is not the end.

This week friends of ours said good-bye to their own boy most unexpectedly, in the way no parents ever want to face. He was sandwiched between our two, his growing up years threaded through theirs, although I knew him only through the news and photos from his parents. He was getting married next month, a few weeks before our daughter’s wedding. And suddenly he is gone, and what do people do with all the plans and hopes left undone? How do you keep on missing the sound and look and solid weight of your boy beyond that last good-bye? It makes my good-byes so far seem very small, and I weep for them in this wrenching-loose from life that seems like the end of everything.  But I know my friends and I know what kind of boy they raised, and they will face this as they faced all of life, with the truth of Christus Victor over-arching. Our Hero has already defeated the enemy Death, and even this story will have a happy ending, though now we see it only by faith.

All the hard good-byes this week remind me of the theology we are studying in Sunday Small Group, oddly enough, because it matters so very much what we believe. It’s like Justin Holcomb says: “Whether we’re aware of it or not, we all have ideas about who God is, what he expects, and what our place in the world is. Our theology shapes how we live….We are all theologians. The question is, are our thoughts about God true?”

Truth about God gives us an anchor in this world, a framework for understanding our experiences, and hope that does not disappoint because God’s love is poured out into our hearts by the Holy Spirit. The Truth is that no good-bye is final and someday there will be no more of them, and God is weaving even our partings into the story He is writing. 

“…You make all things work together for my good.
You stay the same through the ages,
Your love never changes,
There may be pain in the night, but joy comes in the morning.” (Your Love Never Fails, Jesus Culture)

“Therefore God exalted him to the highest place
    and gave him the name that is above every name,
 that at the name of Jesus every knee should bow,
    in heaven and on earth and under the earth,
 and every tongue acknowledge that Jesus Christ is Lord,
    to the glory of God the Father.”  (Philippians 2:9-11)

There is a quote on my refrigerator from Oswald Chambers, that devotional chaplain from the last century who is often obscure, occasionally brilliant, and quite well-known for his collection of daily thoughts entitled My Utmost for His Highest. I read the collection through, two years in a row, and copied these sentences down verbatim that capture the whole of it: “There is only one relationship that matters and that is your personal relationship to a personal Redeemer and Lord. Let everything else go, but maintain that at all costs, and God will fulfill His purpose through your life.”

I liked it at first because of the sense of direction, and simplicity. If you want your life to count for God, if you want to know what His will is for you, just devote your time and attention to cultivating a relationship with Him, and you will become what He wants you to be. It boils everything down into a nutshell of what matters most. And I liked the paradox of letting all else go, in order to gain the One Best Thing; like Jesus said, “If you cling to your life, you will lose it, and if you let your life go, you will save it.” (Luke 17:33, NLT)

After awhile though, I began to see how the principle applies to so many things.  Get that one thing right and you have answered a whole slew of thorny questions. I encouraged women to “stay close to Jesus,” praying it for the people I love. Carrying grief around like a weight on your back? Stay close to Jesus, because He can give peace and comfort.  Wrestling with temptation? Stay close to Jesus and value Him above anything else on earth. Worried about the future? Stay close to Jesus, who knows every one of your days already and can lead the way. Angry with a friend? Stay close to Jesus who knows how it feels to be mistreated and gave back love and forgiveness. Baggage from the past? Stay close to Jesus, at the cross where He took it all.

When I stay close to Him, everything else arranges itself around Him in perfect order, whether or not I can see it at the time. It’s the only way to live well here at all. The only thing that matters.  It’s that simple.

“He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose.”  (Jim Elliot)

“Well, I’ve carried this a long time,
in a well-hidden bundle on my back,
but I’ve realized repentance is weightless,
so I’ll leave my burden on the tracks.”  (Weightless, Christa Wells)

I awoke in the still dark of early morning with a children’s song in my head: “Stand firm, when life changes; stand firm in the ups and downs; stand firm for you know that God is in control….”  VBS song mixed with a swirling storm of anxieties (that night-time dragon we evade somewhat successfully during our waking hours). When you are half asleep there is no defense, and emotions hit raw and overwhelming; all the what-ifs and should-haves and if-onlys bigger and stronger for the darkness of night. King David must have faced them too, discovered how to weather the storm from within the shelter of the Most High: “He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings you will find refuge….You will not fear the terror of the night…nor the pestilence that stalks in darkness….”   (Psalm 91:4-5)

No coincidence that these songs for children speak so clearly to my heart this Summer. In the swirling changes I have been feeling much like a child again, vulnerable and unsure, trying to regain a sense of self.  I need to find a firm footing. “The storms of life may push and pull, but we are standing on the Rock that never rolls…”  My roles and relationships may change, but His love does not.  Families shift and alter, and it feels like tearing apart, but there is Truth that never moves.  Friends struggle with grief and death and loss, and we carry their sorrows, but in the strength of that Rock there is hope and power.  I grow weary in the wind and waves, but that’s all it is– just a storm that buffets in the night– and morning is ahead.

So I push my head up against Him like a child needing comfort, lay my aching heart down in His peace, and I sing. “The storms of life may push and pull; we will keep standing, God is in control.” The night won’t last forever.

“He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will abide in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say to the Lord, ‘My refuge and my fortress, my God, in whom I trust.'” (Psalm 91:1-2)

“When a train goes through a tunnel and it gets dark, you don’t throw away the ticket and jump off. You sit still and trust the engineer.” Corrie ten Boom

We kept repeating the Bible Points to the kids every night at VBS, the important points that Daniel and his friends learned in captivity in Babylon– the things that made them strong. I would start the line and all the little voices would chime right in there, raggedly unison and enthusiastic…When things change, God is with you….When you need help, God is with you.  I kept thinking that it was good for the adults to repeat it too, and remember the basics all over again…When you are afraid, God is with you….When you are lonely, God is with you.  Funny how we never grow out of that truth.

Today I read in my devotional book about how the Israelites stepped out of their tents every morning not knowing where they were headed, looking to the pillar of cloud to see if they were moving or staying, and willing to follow where it led. It would be comforting to have such a visible presence lingering over your house, a reminder that God was with you in every situation, and providing concrete direction as needed. As quickly as the thought entered my head, the knowledge was also there, that God-With-Us, Emmanuel, is more intimately present than any pillar of cloud and fire, and that we are uniquely blessed to be following Him now. When things change, God is with you. When you need help, God is with you. Remember this.

And I still don’t know what the day holds when I get out of bed, but I turn my eyes upward and ask the One who does know, and get ready to follow where He leads. Sometimes obvious paths, like the laundry waiting to be done and the dishes in the sink, the questions that need answered and the appointments met.  When I need help, God is there. Sometimes unexpected interruptions that turn out to be what the day is all about, when it is over. When things change, God is there. Sometimes waiting and praying and being who He wants me to be is work enough for one day. When I am lonely, God is there. Always reasons to be thankful and grace flowing from unexpected places. When I am thankful, God is there.

“God has said, ‘Never will I leave you, never will I forsake you.'”  (Hebrews 13:5)  Important point for Daniel in ancient Babylon, thousands of years ago; important point for kids last week in VBS; important point for me this day.

I love the birds that come to the feeder outside my kitchen window.  Unassuming, tiny, fragile creatures flying recklessly into God’s expanse of sky, dependent on someone to feed them.  I wonder if they know they praise Him with their wings and songs.

My favorites are the pair of doves that come in the early morning and evening, with their tiny gray heads, and smooth wings mottled pink and white and charcoal, their voices trilling soft and throaty. They walk on the ground under the feeder, content to pick up the seed others have dropped, never flashy or quick, nor loud and cheeky, or even quick to startle– humility in bird form– more aware, as if they know to Whom they belong and are content to be in His care. Sometimes they sit right down in the grass in calm contentment, the quiet, serious contemplative souls of the bird world. “Blessed are those who dwell in Your house; they are ever praising You….blessed is the one who trusts in You.”

I wonder if King David, the songwriter, watched the birds too, and marveled.  “Even the sparrow finds a home, and the swallow a nest for herself…a place near your altar, Lord Almighty, my King and my God.” On the days when all I can see is all the ways I don’t measure up, and I wish I were more, I remember the little birds, and the doves especially. I wish I could fly the way others seem to, and they make it look so easy with all their bright colors and strong wings.  But maybe it is enough to just be in His care, when you are quiet and unremarkable. Maybe humility is accepting that you can praise Him best just being how He made you, never mind what everyone else can do, and being content to walk before Him faithfully in each ordinary day. “How lovely is your dwelling place, O Lord Almighty. My soul longs, even faints for You. For here my heart is satisfied, within Your presence. I sing beneath the shadow of Your wings.” Maybe there is a freedom there, that I am barely glimpsing, a wide expanse of grace and love that is bigger than I know, waiting to be explored if I could let go of these measuring sticks.

The king knew well where he belonged, sang from a heart that had learned lessons the hard way: “Better is one day in Your courts than a thousand elsewhere; I would rather be a doorkeeper in the house of my God than dwell in the tents of the wicked.” (Psalm 84:10) Even for a king, the best place was sitting quietly and contentedly in God’s presence, like the smallest of birds, and maybe fly free in unexpected ways.

Here I am on Your doorstep,
With all my earthly belongings–
Nothing more than daily graces;
All I have is Yours,
And this my only Home.
I’d rather stand on Your porch
Than go build a palace of stone:
I am dust to dust, clay to clay,
So I will stand before You,
Clutching grace with both hands,
And be satisfied with Your presence.

A mother bears all this weight. Of love that was born with the swell of her changing body. Of responsibility that flooded over the moment she accepted this fragile bundle into her arms for the first time and felt the tug of helpless need and the certainty that another life would be shaped by her own. Of fierce protection that rises from nowhere to transform even the meek into warriors. Of fear and worry and care crashing down with the realization  that the world is not a safe place– so many things a woman cannot control– and it’s one thing to swim for your own life, but another to send a babe afloat into the unknown. It’s humbling to bend under this weight of motherhood. It could be crushing, if you had to carry it alone.

Bowing down under all this weight is where I learned how big is the One who carries me. Because if I cannot trust Him fully to carry me, and bring me safely Home, how can I trust Him to carry my precious little ones, and do all things well for them? Despite the weight, there is peace in knowing that “underneath are the Everlasting Arms.” (Deuteronomy 33:27)

Bowing down under all this weight teaches you to shape worries into prayers, and moments into growth opportunities for both of you. Under this weight you learn to feel God’s love and forgiveness and grace. Under this weight you learn just where your limitations and weaknesses lie, and learn to depend on the One who has none. “They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary…” (Isaiah 40:31), at least enough to get through another day. And when the burden gets so heavy it is breaking your heart, that’s where a depth of worship can grow, when you learn to say “Blessed be the name of the Lord.” Sometimes it is miracle enough to “walk and not faint.”

So we keep on, because how could we ever stop?– these children are woven from our own flesh and bone, and fill up our whole hearts. Mothers are meant to carry this weight, and to be carried by the Everlasting Arms, and He says the burden “is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison” if we fasten our eyes on the things that are unseen and do not lose heart. (2 Corinthians 4:16-18)

There is nothing like the musings and prayers and poetry of fellow worshipers to lift the spirit into God’s presence and seal His truth to the heart….

GOD, THOU ART LOVE

By: Robert Browning

If I forget,
Yet God remembers! If these hands of mine
Cease from their clinging, yet the hands Divine
Hold me so firmly that I cannot fail;
And if sometimes I am too tired to call
For Him to help me, then He reads the prayer
Unspoken in my heart, and lifts my care.

I dare not fear, since certainly I know
That I am in God’s keeping, shielded so
From all that else would harm, and in the hour
Of stern temptation strengthened by His power;
I tread no path in life to Him unknown;
I lift no burden, bear no pain, alone:
My soul is calm, sure hiding-place is found:
The everlasting arms my life surround.

God, Thou art love! I build my faith on that,
I know Thee Who has kept my path, and made
Light for me in the darkness, tempering sorrow
So that it reaches me like a solemn joy;
It were too strange that I should doubt Thy love.