Relationship with God – EAST WILLOW PLACE

New Hope for When You’re Weary & Discouraged

The guys were taking a night to try to find normal again.

A crazy rollercoaster of experiences and emotions in the last couple weeks had shattered their world – and now they still felt unsure of which way was up. More importantly, they were unsure of what they should do next.

So they went fishing – something they knew well, something routine and ordinary.

But things still seemed askew and off – because no matter their efforts and expertise, after working all night there were only dripping empty nets, growling stomachs, and bleary, red-rimmed eyes in the grey, early morning light.

Then, a stranger walking in the early morning mist on the nearby shore called out in a friendly, fatherly way, “Hey guys, catch anything?”

Ruefully they called back, “Nope, nothing – not even after being out all night!”

Probably with a smile in his voice, the stranger called back, “Try the right side of the boat.”

Maybe they rolled their eyes at this advice, maybe they were too tired and hopeless to argue. Maybe they figured it was just so inane it was worth a shot, so they did as he said…

And immediately their net almost slipped from their hands with the weight of the heavy catch of fish that filled it to nearly bursting.

Then – after recognizing the stranger as Jesus, their newly-risen Savior and Teacher – the suddenly rejoicing, energized men were welcomed from the coldness of the morning sea to a brightly flickering fire on the beach.

Then Jesus himself, the Lord of life and Creator of the Universe, served them a hot breakfast of grilled fish and bread. (John 21:1-13)

He who should have been served instead tenderly served the same men who had recently abandoned him, denied him, and hid from being recognized as his followers. He who could have sharply reproached instead showed heart-breaking kindness.

This gracious, humble, and loving Savior is the one who cares for you and me in all our weakness and brokenness and strugglings today. When we work wearily without success, when we feel hopeless and uncertain and discouraged – He is the one who asks us to tell the truth of our lack (“Nope, we got nothing!”), and then to try again – with him.

Any outcome of our efforts is his gift. “For without me you can do nothing.” (John 15:5)

And then he welcomes us to sit with him and be warmed and fed – and he himself serves us.

This is our Lord – and in his kindness he is lovely beyond words.

I pray that you are comforted and fed today in the rich satisfaction of knowing the kindness of our King – and find in his kindness the hope to go on.

_{-Wear your crown. Carry your sword.}
Maria

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How to Be the Story of the Glorious Kingdom, Part 3

… We are citizens of heaven, and are called to live in a manner worthy of our King and his Kingdom (Philippians 1:27).

So how do we do this?

The simple answer is far from easy: We become the People of his Book.

To consider the Holy Bible as the highest treasure of our hearts and the strongest connection to our King and our homeland is the simplest, most straight-forward way to live out our calling as Ambassadors.

The Spirit-inspired Scriptures are to be in our thoughts, words and actions – every day. We need to carefully, sincerely, and reverently read them, ponder them and pray them. We are to sing them, teach them, write them and live them.

But most of all, we are to love the Scriptures – because if we do, the rest will follow.

"And now, what does the LORD your God require of you? He requires only that you fear the LORD your God, and live in a way that pleases him, and love him and serve him with all your heart and soul. And you must always obey the LORD's commands and decrees that I am giving you today for your own good." (Deuteronomy 10:12-13)

Ambassadors appointed on behalf of their nation do not lose their distinctive language, traditions, customs, philosophies or citizenship merely because they are stationed in a foreign country. On the contrary – it is because they are constantly representing their homeland and government that they remain unmistakably different from the local culture around them.

We are called to live unmistakably different lives as citizens of Heaven.

We have been given the “Protocol Guidebook” of our nation’s customs, language, history, beliefs and laws – it deserves our daily, intentional, devoted study and thought. How else will we understand our own King’s laws? Speak our country’s language? How else can we explain to others why they should want to immigrate there, or how our King vastly surpasses any other ruler in excellence? How else can we accurately disciple and mentor other younger citizens (our children or any given to us to teach) so that they can one day fill their own appointments in their own embassies?

This should be our passionate desire – to be so deeply steeped in the Book of our King that if he should come on a visit of State, we would not be ashamed by how we have been representing him, but delighted to introduce the One we have so faithfully served to those around us.

And what joy to have those people say – “Now we believe, not just because of what you told us, but because we have heard him ourselves. Now we know that he is indeed the Savior of the world.” (John 4:42)

Wear your crown. Carry your sword. – Maria

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The Story of the Glorious Kingdom, Part Two

Photo by Luis Fernando Felipe Alves on Unsplash

If you, like me, claim Jesus to be your Savior and King, the Story of the Glorious Kingdom (click on it to read if you missed it!) is not just a fairy tale.

It’s OUR story.

WE have been set free from the dark kingdom and are now commissioned as Ambassadors of the Glorious Kingdom. This is OUR King’s book, written in the language of the Kingdom, carrying His instructions and teaching us all we need to carry out our calling as His representatives.

The definition of “Ambassador” is: a person of high-rank appointed by their ruler to represent them and their country for a special and temporary assignment in a foreign country. (I checked Wikipedia)

This is the perfect description for who we are called to be as followers of Christ:

Adopted into his family as sons and daughters of the Most High God (Ephesians 1:4-5) – we’re nobility personified! We are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, Peter says (1 Peter 2:9) – those called to mediate between God and the people who don’t yet know him as King.

We’ve been appointed to represent our ruler and his kingdom: 2 Corinthians 5:18-20 says God has given us this task of reconciling people to him, emphatically stating: “We are Christ’s ambassadors.”

It’s a unique assignment to each of us, because we each are unique creations, specially placed in the circumstances, locations, and in the communities we are because we each have a unique work to do: 1 Corinthians 12:12-26 compares us as a group of believers as a body with many varied parts, all working to accomplish a unified goal. Ephesians 2:10 declares we each have been created in Christ Jesus to do the good works that God himself prepared before time for us each to do!

It’s a temporary assignment because we each don’t know how long we have or when we will be either placed somewhere else, or called back to our homeland. Our lives are not our own, and tomorrow is not promised. Therefore we work each day we’ve been given as best we can, knowing we might be called home tomorrow! Psalm 90:12 prays that we might know the brevity of our lives and live wisely because of it.

We’re to consider ourselves as foreigners and outsiders because this world is not our home and we are not to hold onto it too tightly – we are citizens of heaven, and are called to live in a manner worthy of our King and his Kingdom (Philippians 1:27). 1 Peter 2:11 exhorts, “Dear friends, I warn you as temporary residents and foreigners to keep away from the worldly desires that wage war against your souls. Be careful to live properly among your unbelieving neighbors… [so that] they will give honor to God when he judges the world.”

And the question likely burning in your mind now is… “HOW? How do we do this?” (Stay tuned…)

Wear your crown. Carry your sword. – Maria

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The Story of the Glorious Kingdom: Part One

Let me tell you a story…

Once upon a time, there was a glorious kingdom ruled by a monarch of unsurpassed excellence, wisdom, and might. This king had two adopted children, and daily he met with them in the palace gardens to teach them about the kingdom. They had wonderful times together, and they loved each other dearly.

There was, however, an insidious and evil High Chancellor who plotted to take the throne! He had planted his traitorous spies and assassins throughout the kingdom.

One dark night, war broke out. Though the King and his armies were victorious, as the enemy retreated, the royal children were kidnapped and taken as prisoners.

Gagged, bound, beaten, thrown into a filthy cart, they could only weep in terror and sorrow as they watched their beloved home shrink in the distance.
The dark shadowy mist of the wild territory of their enemy became all they knew in the months ahead. They were forced to work as slaves deep in the mines of the enemy’s fortress, chained in the cold darkness and treated with brutality.

The children tried to recall the things their King-Father would talk about with them in the gardens back in the wonderful, dreamlike days before their imprisonment, but it was hard to remember clearly. Hope was thin and threadbare.

Then, one day, an unusual Messenger rode into the dark territory – an Ambassador sent by the King of the glorious Kingdom! He had come to reclaim not only his children, but all the slaves, and had brought an unimaginably large amount of treasure as ransom.

Their foul enemy mockingly laughed as he greedily counted the treasure, for he planned to keep the ransom and the slaves and kill the Ambassador.

Suddenly his laughter strangled in his throat, and he cowered like a dog, as the Ambassador threw off his outer robes and was revealed to be – the King himself, with a blazing sword in hand and fire in his eyes!

The King contemptuously and furiously beat him with the flat of his sword, sending him yelping in pain and humiliation and scurrying like a rat out the nearest door.

Then the King searched the dungeons till he found his children. He struck off their chains and brought them out to a light-filled open square. He wept with joy as he held their bruised, filthy bodies close to his heart.

Kissing their faces and looking into their tear-filled eyes, he told them that though they were now free, it was not yet time to return home.

In the meantime, they were to tell as many slaves as possible that their time of enslavement was over! Because their freedom was purchased by the King, they now had citizenship and a future home in the glorious Kingdom. They and any slave who claimed the King as their own would be given full rights and citizenship as his royal children.

The King had the children bathed and fed, and gave them clean, lovely robes and bright crowns of gold to wear as proof that they were his Royal Ambassadors.

Then he pulled from his bag a large leather book, carefully copied by his own hand. Written in the language of the glorious kingdom, it contained all that the Ambassador-Children would need to know to complete their task before the King returned.

As he handed them each a copy of his Book, it transformed into swords exactly like His – swords that glowed with a warm white light, strong enough to kill a dragon, sharp enough to split a hair, yet light enough that a child could carry it.

The children solemnly and with fierce joy strapped on their weapons. Then after one last long embrace and promise of His swift return, the King rode off.

The children, watching, saw his strong, upright form slowly grow faint in the mist. Then they turned, bright faced, back to the dark territory to start the task of declaring to the other slaves the same truth and promise they had been given, and to wait with fierce joy for their King-Father’s victorious return.

(Part Two coming soon – stay tuned!)

Wear your crown. Carry your sword. – Maria

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Relief = Happy? Maybe Not – What You REALLY Need Instead

We humans can be so short-sighted.

In a challenging situation or a season of suffering or hardship, all we care about is obtaining relief – and we think that if the challenge were to be removed, suddenly everything would be great. We would be so happy!

But is that true?

Exodus 17:1-7, written by Moses, tells about a time when the people of Israel camp in the wilderness at a location called Rephidim. “At the Lord’s command,” the text declares emphatically.

So what’s the problem?

There was no water at Rephidim.

For a large community of people, children, and animals, that’s a big problem.

Please note that these are the exact same people who saw the terrors of the ten plagues in Egypt and then the parting of the Red Sea only a few weeks prior. These folks saw the hand of God move mightily on their behalf, and have been following the moving pillars of cloud and fire – physical manifestations of God’s guidance – through the wilderness.

So with this new challenge, what do they do? They quickly turn in angry complaints to Moses, demanding for him to give them water.

Moses warns them to be quiet – clearly wanting them to respectfully ask and patiently wait to see the provision of God (as he had done so powerfully before), and reminds them not to test God.

But when they continue to feel the torment of strong thirst – they not only continue to argue but they attribute Moses (and therefore God, who is directing him) with harmful, hateful intent, saying “Why did you bring us out of Egypt? Are you trying to kill us, our children and our livestock with thirst?” (Exodus 17: 3)

Their discomfort and suffering completely overwhelmed them – all they could focus on was their current misery and how it would vanish with what they craved – water.

The beleaguered Moses cries out to God asking what to do – and God tells him. “Walk out in front of the people. They accused me publicly, they will be answered publicly. Take the same staff that struck the Nile and turned water to blood – and bring some of the elders to join you. I will stand before you on the rock at Mount Sinai. Strike the rock, and the water will come gushing out – and then the people will be able to drink.” (Exodus 17: 5-6, my paraphrase)

Did you see that?

God himself would stand on the rock that would gush out water.

Why?

Because what the people needed more than water was the Presence of God.

In our own ongoing struggles, the challenges and sufferings of life in a sin-darkened world, it is so very easy to be forgetful of what we know to be true.

God is always and has always been faithful, AND it is by his direct guidance that we are exactly where we are in this place of lack or suffering or hardship.

Therefore it means we are to stop blaming other people, stop accusing God of harmful intent or careless indifference, and smash our idols of perceived comfort and relief.

Because what we need most, no matter how much we crave other things, is not relief from the suffering – it is HIMSELF.

David wrote Psalm 63 during his own time in the wilderness – I encourage you to pull out a Bible and pray this Psalm for yourself, asking the Spirit to make it genuinely true for your heart:

“Oh God, you are my God; I earnestly search for you. My soul thirsts for you; my whole body longs for you in this parched and weary land where there is no water…  Your unfailing love is better than life itself; how I praise you!” (Psalm 63:1,3)

May we be a people who can sing this up to him in truth – even in a wilderness of no water and with suffering – that we find our God and his love better than life itself.

Wear your crown, carry your sword. – Maria

*(_{This post was inspired by John Piper’s excellent sermon “Water from the Rock for Undeserving People” from August 11, 2022, found here.})

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Broken & Beautiful: How to Hold Hope in the Imperfection

I felt quiet and sad. I was nine, and my only close friend was moving far away. Because I moved so much as a child, it was hard to make close friends. And by “moved” I mean different hemisphere moves, not different states or cities.

It didn’t help that I was shy, awkward, and mostly lonely. So I was almost pathetically grateful anytime another kid was friendly to me and showed kindness.

This friend had been especially sweet, and I wanted to give her a goodbye present to show her how much I cared about her – one that she could keep to remember me by.

Asking my dad to purchase a gift was out of the question: money was always tight and he would inevitably say the same thing he always did: “Make something yourself!”

I found the idea in a book of creating a little bird in a nest, using a blown egg and a little piece of egg carton. I painstakingly went through each step by myself, poking a tiny hole in the top and bottom of the egg and blowing it out of the shell, then letting it dry. I painted the eggshell a lovely aqua blue, glued on a little paper beak and two soft black paper eyes, and made a little “nest” with a painted brown cup of an egg carton, carefully gluing the egg-chick in place.

I was utterly delighted with my special gift, and very proud of my handiwork – especially since I had done it all by myself. I excitedly envisioned my friend’s joy on receiving her present.

The last day I would see my friend was on Sunday at church. That morning my dad, siblings and I all rushed out to the car to drive to church, running a few minutes late. I had grabbed the little chick and the card I had made, and placed them carefully inside the car next to my seat. Then, as I got in, I unthinkingly put my hand down to fasten the seat belt – and smashed the chick.

I was too stunned to cry, and too grief stricken to speak.

There was no point in crying. There was nothing to say.

We were already late for church, my friend was moving away the very next day, and there was no time to create anything new for her. All my hard work and loving effort was gone, and I had nothing tangible to show for it except crushed fragments of a lovely aqua blue. And it was my fault.

I have felt like that little nine year old often throughout my life. (Have you?)

I have an idea or a hope of how something I do will turn out, especially since as a believer I know that what I carry out each day is supposed to be to the glory of God.

But then, often inadvertently, I feel like I clumsily end up ruining it somehow. The gift that I had wanted to give to God of my day or my effort ends up so much less than I had hoped: a broken, shattered version of what I had envisioned. Things sometimes just end up sort of smashed and irreversibly damaged.

This is where it takes sheer stubbornness to hold on to what I know is true: God sees my heart, and He knows my intentions and yearnings. Even in the brokenness, He sees the love that I hold in my heart for Him when I offer what I have as a worship to Him. And therefore what I do has value and meaning to Him when I work out of a desire to honor Him with it.

What you do, how you faithfully keep going with your work and how you live your days – it matters.

When we deliberately choose to see our lives as something we offer up to God, even in its broken imperfection, He takes our love-gift and gauges it with a metric of grace.

As one of my favorite song lyrics say,

“So take my broken offering and make it whole/ And set my feet upon the road that leads me home/ Let me walk as one fixed upon the goal / Even though I’ve got a thousand miles to go.”

_{(Caedmon’s Call, “Thousand Miles”, Back Home, Essential Records. 2003)}

Even in those moments when all we think we hold is a crushed little egg-chick, He sees the time, care, intent, and the love that we truly offer.

“So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.”
Galatians 6:9, NLT

– Maria

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A Heart of Unusual Grit: A Look at Courageous Thankfulness

One of my lovely daughters is blessed with a forelock.

That is to say, she has a patch of thick hair from above her forehead that grows forward rather than backwards. Even as an infant she began resembling Highland cattle, and I was tying her hair back from a very early age so we could see her eyes. (Or she looked like this:)

(Highland Cattle – photo by Shane Aldendorff on Unsplash)

The other morning, as I was trying to quickly get through brushing and tying up the various girls’ hair (I have on average 3-4 daughters who still require help), I got to this particular daughter. She clearly and politely requested only two ponytails, but I knew from experience that this would not work with her particular head. The forelock was a factor, and needed its own individual tie. So I made a small ponytail at the top of her head to wrangle the forelock into control, then incorporated it into the two larger pony tails that she had asked for.

Then she realized what I had done.

In short: Devastation.

I had used THREE and not TWO hair ties, disregarding her request.

Huge eyes welled up with tears, little shoulders hunched, lower lip out, while gusty sobs began, showing just how much I had disappointed her.

Staring at her in mild astonishment, I watched as enormous tears streamed down her face. She dropped to the ground and wept, apparently inconsolable. This continued for about thirty seconds. Which seemed a lot longer than it was.

Finally, with some moderate impatience (yes, I’m not a perfect mom), I said, “Can you please just stop crying and say ‘Thank you’?!”

She needed her hair tied up. I knew what was going to work best for her and what would last throughout her busy day playing, and I had given her a very cute hairstyle. She had no real reason to cry, and should instead be grateful for my loving care.

Then it struck me: I think this is something God wants to say to me sometimes:

“Can you please just stop crying and say, ‘Thank you’?!”

I have my idea of how something should go. I have my plan that I think is the right way, the perfect path, the only option I find acceptable. And I’ve asked Him for it politely, or just merely expect it because it’s the thing that will make me happy. Since I see no reason why it shouldn’t happen, I calmly await the certain delivery of my (ahem) “request”.

Then when I get something different, or it’s not what I had hoped, or I walk through unexpected loss or hurt, I am devastated by the pain and disappointment.

But knowing Who God is, knowing that He knows infinitely more than I, that He understands all the microscopic nuances of my life and its outcomes, I am showing a blatant lack of trust in my Father when I don’t say, “Thank you.”

Even if it wasn’t what I wanted.

Even if it makes me sad, or I don’t understand, or I wish it were different.

Those feelings can be there, but I can still choose to declare my gratitude to the Father who is working for my good, because I love Him and I know I am given a purpose in His Kingdom (Romans 8:28).

The command to “give thanks for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ” (Ephesians 5:20, NLT) leaves no room for my feelings, as much as I may rebel and writhe with the apparent callous indifference to them.

If I want to be obedient to God’s Word, this is a direct choice I must make, regardless of how I feel.

Easy? More like terrifying and incredibly difficult.

Yet I must draw a line in the sand and decide in my heart whether or not I believe that my Creator God is truly the kind, all-knowing, always inherently loving Father the Bible says He is, and thank Him for what He has allowed to be for me and my loved ones.

Or I don’t, and thereby deliberately choose to disobey this clear command.

This is not comfortable.

This is not a placid, soft, warm-and-squishy kind of thankfulness when I’m feeling happy and things are going my way.

This is where my trust in this God I cannot see becomes the granite of reality and I obstinately choose to believe Him and His Word over my emotions, my experiences, and even my own understanding.

Like my little girl, I need to choose to stop crying and say “Thank you.” This is where the sacrifice comes in my “sacrifice of thanksgiving”.

As King David said, “I will not present offerings that cost me nothing.” (1 Chronicles 21:24)

May God graciously grant you and I the courageous hearts and flinty-faced grit to be thankful for truly everything.

“But giving thanks is a sacrifice that truly honors me. If you keep to my path, I will reveal to you the salvation of God.”
(Psalm 50:23, NLT)

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Hungry? A Hidden Surprise Feast for Your Heart

One of my favorite short animated films is “Piper”, from Pixar Films. It tells the story of a sandpiper chick urged by its mother to leave its safe warm sandy nest and begin digging for clams with the rest of the flock down by the shore.

At first, the reluctant chick assumes its mother will still feed it. When the mother instead shows the chick to search for clams in the wet sand, the chick looks askance, but hesitatingly tries – without success.

Completely oblivious to its surroundings, the chick suddenly realizes that the rest of the flock have retreated… and by itself, is knocked over by a wave of cold seawater.

Shivering, sodden, scared, the chick huddles back in its nest, when the mother gently encourages it to come out and try again. Its growling belly shows the growing need to find food.

This time, almost incapacitated by fear and dread, the chick cowers higher on the shore – when it meets a little hermit crab stolidly making its way down to the water.

Following, curious but still cautious, the chick watches as the crab spies a wave coming. Instead of running, it simply burrows down to create a safe nook to hide from the sweep of the water. Unable to escape in time from the wave, the chick quickly copies the crab’s methods, digging itself down into the wet sand just as the wave rushes over the pair, engulfing them both.

The chick hunkers underwater, eyes closed tight, trying to survive till the water recedes. Unexpectedly, the crab taps on the sandpiper’s beak. The chick opens its eyes and to the piper’s astonished gaze, the sandy floor under the water is rich with many clams, each having risen to the surface. As the wave washes back out, the clams begin to retreat below the surface again, digging down deeper, hidden once more.

This little underwater glimpse is electrifying to the sandpiper chick – and the change is extraordinary!

Gone is the little cowering, shivering, fearful chick who hides in the safety and warmth of its nest and is fed by someone else. Suddenly, the chick is energized, knowing where to find the largest clams! Running and piping with delight, it even brings an enormous clam to its mother, so large that several other sandpipers join the feast.

The little piper is still soaking wet. It is still being hit by incessant, cold waves. But now the piper is joyful, revitalized, and is no longer hungry. Instead of avoiding the waves, it realizes that they are rich opportunities for nourishment.

I can relate so well to that little sandpiper. I too often long to stay in the safety and comfort of a warm, sunny nest. I am perfectly content to avoid the cold of suffering and challenges – even while I grow hungry.

Yet when God, like a loving mama sandpiper, nudges me out of my comfort zone and I somewhat uncertainly (and often reluctantly) follow Him down to the shore, I still often expect to be completely coddled, expecting warmth, ease, and safety…

Then when frustrations, disappointments, and difficulties smack me down like chilling salt waves, I too want to give up and run far, far away, back to the shelter of the dry nest and comfortably starve.

Yet, God keeps encouraging me to start living as I was meant to be, growing in maturity and wisdom, learning how to find and consume what is most nourishing to my soul – and it’s down by the water’s edge, not up in the barren nest.

Then, in a time of apparent hardship or difficulty, completely certain that I am unable to breathe or survive in the suffocating cold flooding my senses, He also gently helps me to open my eyes in the middle of it… and reveals a feast of strength and plenty that wouldn’t otherwise be accessible to me unless I was there under the water.

In the time of hard there is nourishment. In the experiences of difficulty there is fulfillment, and in the times of loss God provides for your heart. He knows what is best for us, and He knows what we need. In His care, “even the hard pathways overflow with abundance.” (Psalm 65:11, NLT)

In our experiences that knock us over and threaten to overwhelm, if we open our eyes to Him in trust instead of fear, we will discover an entirely new strength – and even though we might still be outwardly wet, cold, bedraggled, and look a little crazy, we will have deep joy and full hearts, with plenty to share for others.

A person who is full refuses honey, but even bitter food tastes sweet to the hungry.
Proverbs 27:7, NLT

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How to Best Hold Your Broken Heart

Today my heart feels broken.

A friend I love is facing an agony of loss. In joining her in her grief, my own heart is heavy and sorrowful. There have been many prayers and many, many more tears.

And as I think of this friend in her particular pain, more loved ones come to mind who are grappling with their own unique weight of sorrow, loss, or grief.

Each precious person carries such a heavy load – unable to be measured adequately or fully comprehended except by the bearer. I feel so helpless and unable to lighten their weight, even as I take some of their sorrow to carry in my heart alongside them.

So what do we do to find hope in the dark? How do we find strength when the pain and anguish seem like the only real things and the world spins on, heedless and indifferent? What perspective should we hold to enable us to move forward?

Years ago, I read a strange and beautiful short story which I have never forgotten, and which I share an adapted excerpt from here, in the hope that it will help answer the above question.

As a brief introduction, a young wife has just delivered her first baby, who is unexpectedly stillborn. This is a great loss to both herself and her husband, who had both been eagerly anticipating the birth of their son.

In this scene, the wife has been lying in bed, grieving and weeping over her baby, and thinking a great deal. She then unexpectedly prays the following prayer to God:

“O God, if you will not let me be a mother, I have one refuge: I will go back and be a child: I will be your child more than ever. My mother-heart will find relief in childhood towards its Father.

“For is it not the same nature that makes the true mother and the true child? Is it not the same thought blossoming upward and blossoming downward? So there is God the Father and God the Son.

“You will keep my little son for me. He has gone home to be nurtured for me. And when I grow well, I will be more simple, and truthful, and joyful in your sight.

“And now you are taking away my child, my delight from me. But I think how pleased I should be, if I had a daughter, and she loved me so well that she only smiled when I took her plaything from her.

“Oh! I will not disappoint you – you shall have your joy. Here I am, do with me what you will; I will only smile.”*

This woman’s prayer is no bitter spurt of cynicism or anger.

She is not being weak in her acceptance of her loss, nor does she minimize the pain or depth of it. With courage she chooses an unusual perspective, but one in which she senses the thrum of a Truth far greater than herself:

She knows herself to be a dearly loved little girl who is under the care of a wise and trustworthy Parent, One in Whom she can trust even when she doesn’t understand why she is experiencing loss or pain.

This kind of trust is terrible and terrifying to us who have become adults and enjoy the [seeming] security of independence and self-reliance. But implicitly loving, joyful trust is natural to a young child, especially one who has utter confidence in the kindness and ultimately good purpose of their parent.

When they experience pain or sadness, a little child finds comfort in the shelter of their parent’s arms – even if the pain is not ended or the sadness is not stopped. It is enough to rest there, knowing they are held and loved.

In our grief, in our feelings of lonely sorrow, we can find solace knowing that our Father not only understands, He is able to relate well: “He was despised and rejected— a man of sorrows, acquainted with deepest grief. We turned our backs on him and looked the other way. He was despised, and we did not care.” (Isaiah 53:3, NLT)

Our part then, is to humble ourselves as little children. Choosing to place ourselves, our lives, and even our loved ones under His care, we are called to the courageous place of behaving as a little son or daughter should to their loving Mommy or Daddy. (Matthew 18:1-4)

Without negating any of the anguish we feel, and truthfully acknowledging our loss and sorrow, we can look up at Him through our tears and, with open hands, offer up what was a gift from Him in the first place.

And each step, each breath, each moment afterward, we can walk in our journey through our grief knowing that He is right there holding us up, walking with us, tenderly caring about us and the hurts we carry in our broken hearts.

“ God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others.”
2 Corinthians 1:3-4, NLT

Are you carrying a grief in this season? I would be honored if you share it with me by replying below. I read every response, and I will pray for you.

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*Adapted exerpt from Birth, Dreaming, Death – The Schoolmaster’s Story from The Gray Wolf and Other Stories, by George MacDonald. Emphases mine.

Toenails & Why Your Life Counts: Finding Ultimate Worth

We are all called to great things. The real question is whether or not we understand what greatness means.

Because sometimes it might mean spending time cutting children’s nails.

Amy was a young woman who loved God and felt his call on her life to serve Him by traveling as a missionary to other countries. She believed strongly that she was to share the truth of the Bible, and her focus was mainly on reaching women (who were often ignored or socially restricted from interacting with male missionaries).

Her travels led her to India, where after traveling around in an ox-cart, evangelizing to women in villages with a small, devoted team, she eventually became aware of the prevalent practice of child prostitution in the temples (both young girls and boys). When a little girl escaped from a temple and fled for refuge to Amy’s home, the issue became personal.

Amy began working to free children from this terrible form of sexual slavery, and her efforts led to hundreds of children being freed, fed, clothed, housed, and educated at the orphanage and mission she founded.

No longer able to travel about evangelizing, she instead became “Amma” (Tamil for “mother”), and her newfound duties as a mother of many included that of “cutting the toe nails of a thousand children” (as her biography quotes*).

Amy Carmichael died today, January 18, in 1951, at the age of 83. She had worked in India as a missionary for 55 years without furlough. A law was passed outlawing temple prostitution for children about three years before her death.

The mission she founded still operates today.

She had traveled to India planning to work as a evangelist and focusing on teaching adults about the Gospel… and ended up cutting toenails and mothering a huge number of little children instead.

Would you say her life was wasted? Do you think she missed the mark of making an impact? Toenails seem like an insignificant task compared to preaching the gospel… but apparently not to God.

God had so clearly orchestrated the timing and work He brought her to be about that she cheerfully and joyfully submitted to His plan, His definition of great things.

Her faithfulness and deep humility give me such encouragement, especially in my current season of diapers, pots and pans, laundry, constant teaching, and yes, often cutting toenails.

What I am called to do right now as a homemaker, a wife, a mama, may not seem like high value in the eyes of the world, but I have no doubt it is exactly where I am supposed to be, and therefore I can trust that my God in His wisdom has decreed it to be worthwhile and significant.

And in that trust I can wake up each morning and know that my longing to live a life of worth and purpose is carried out by my faithfulness in serving and loving those around me to the best of my abilities, with the strength and joy He gives.

I fiercely believe this is true for you, too.

What have you been given to do in this season? Do you also fight the thoughts that sometimes come to tell you your efforts are meaningless and trivial, insignificant, worthless?

Here’s what the Bible says: Whatever you do, work at it with your whole being, for the Lord and not for men, because you know that you will receive an inheritance from the Lord as your reward. It is the Lord Christ you are serving.
(Colossians 3:23-24)

I find joy in remembering Amy and her work as “Amma” because it gives me renewed strength in my own often seemingly mundane and unimportant work . You can take heart knowing it applies to your work, too.

God sees you, sees your faithfulness, your efforts given in love and service. And He finds that to be of great value – regardless of your opinion or perspective, or anyone else’s. Keep on in your faithful work, my friend. Keep on walking each day in what you have been given to do!

So let’s not get tired of doing what is good. At just the right time we will reap a harvest of blessing if we don’t give up.
(Galatians 6:9, NLT)

Even if doing what is good is clipping the toenails of little children.

Maria

* Amy Carmichael: Beauty For Ashes, A Biography; Iain H. Murray, Banner of Truth Trust, Carlisle, PA (2015)

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