healing

Broken and Spilled Out

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I think every single believer will at some point go through a breaking process. It will feel like our lives have been irreparably shattered into a million little pieces that can never be put back together in any semblance of order. It will feel like the end, but for God it will only just be the beginning.

To be broken means that God can use our lives, our very selves, to minister to many more than we could have dreamed of had we remained whole. Most likely, we would have remained self-reliant, self-seeking, self-focused, never really acknowledging our deep need for God.

To be broken is to come to the place where the only way you can look is up. And that’s where you find God and realize He’s the one who was looking for you first. He’s the one who made the first move to make you right with Him. You only chose God because He chose you first.

The beautiful part with God’s blessings in terms of baskets of bread and fish is that there is always more than enough. There will always be an overabundance. Not only did all the 5,000 (and with the addition of women and children closer to 15,000 or more) get fully satisfied with food, but there were twelve baskets left over, one for each disciple. One tangible reminder of God’s more-than-enough favor for each of those disciples to carry with him.

Remember your life is being broken for a purpose beyond yourself and anything you could dream or imagine. God is up to something good.

They Overcame

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“They overcame him by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of their testimony, and they did not love their lives even in the face of death” (Revelation 12:11, TLV).

Tonight I attended something called What a God: A Night of Testimony & Thanksgiving at Brentwood Baptist Church. Basically, it was a night of worship interspersed with testimonies of people who experienced the healing of God in their lives and a time of prayer for those dealing with serious illnesses.

It was a beautiful reminder of the goodness of God. Time and time again, we saw how the Lord was faithful to do what He promised. Time after time, we saw how the miracles came because people were bold enough to ask in prayer. I don’t believe that God heals everyone every time on this side of heaven, but I do believe that we often don’t receive from the Lord because we do not ask.

There’s something powerful about someone’s testimony that points people to Jesus. You can argue points of doctrine and theology all day long, but it’s hard to dispute eyewitness accounts. Add that to some powerful songs of thanksgiving, and it was a good night.

I still say that the best antidote for worry is worship. The cure for anxiety is adoration. Once you take your eyes off of yourself and put them on Jesus, everything that seems so pressing and urgent falls back into place. Of course, I know that certain kinds of extreme anxiety have physical causes and it is no sin to take medication or have counseling at times.

Every time we gather for worship, we remember that we are singing not for a potential victory but from a promised victory. We declare that the battle is the Lord’s and He has already overcome. The enemy is already a defeated foe. We are already more than conquerors through Him who loved us.

I’m thankful to Travis Cottrell and all the worship team at Brentwood Baptist Church for putting on a night like this where God was the main attraction. It could very easily have been another concert with an audience of multitudes, but it was instead a worship night with an audience of one. And boy, did He show up.



We Cannot Wait

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The Bible says that in the fullness of time, or when the time was ripe, God sent Jesus into the world. From a purely human perspective, it would have made more sense to wait until the world was more advanced technologically. God could have waited until we had the ability to communicate instantly to any point on the globe, but He didn’t.

The moment God chose was the moment God chose. In a divine wisdom that is higher than our understanding, God chose that precise moment in history to take on flesh and blood and dwell with us. That was the point that has defined how we measure time, B.C. for Before Christ, and A.D. for Anno Domini or in the year of our Lord (after Christ).

I found this lovely poem by Madeleine L’Engle about God choosing the perfect time to be born into our world:

“He did not wait till the world was ready, 
till men and nations were at peace. 
He came when the Heavens were unsteady, 
and prisoners cried out for release. 

He did not wait for the perfect time. 
He came when the need was deep and great. 
He dined with sinners in all their grime, 
turned water into wine. 

He did not wait till hearts were pure. 
In joy he came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt. 
To a world like ours, of anguished shame 
he came, and his Light would not go out. 

He came to a world which did not mesh, 
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn. 
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh 
the Maker of the stars was born. 

We cannot wait till the world is sane 
to raise our songs with joyful voice, 
for to share our grief, to touch our pain, 
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!”

Known by the Scars

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I have a few scars. One is on my left hand, a reminder from when I was in a wreck back in the day. I pulled out in front of a full-sized truck, thinking it was a four-way stop. It was not.

Thankfully, I ended up being okay aside from a deep cut on my hand from the dashboard and being generally stiff and sore the next day from the impact. My scar is a reminder of how God saved me from my own foolishness that day.

I remember that Jesus also has scars. His resurrected and glorified body still had the nail piercings on His hands and feet, as well as the wound in His side. Those were the proofs that it was really and truly Jesus raised from the dead.

But also it’s a way of giving value to all those who have scars of their own. Some are more obvious than others. Some are hidden, but some are in places where we can’t hide them. Some of us are ashamed or embarrassed by our scars.

But scars tell a story where you survived. Scars are the reminder of something that could have killed you but didn’t. Scars are proof of a divine intervention. In a way, when you can wear your scars proudly, you identify with Jesus and His own scars.

Most of all, your scars should remind you that Jesus bore the wounds that gave Him the scars for you and for me. He was wounded for our transgressions, as it says in Isaiah 53. By His stripes, we are healed. He bore what we should have born because of our sins, and we get the rewards of a perfect life that should only belong to Jesus. That’s the great exchange. That’s the gospel.

Scars can be something to hide, like those humiliating moments or shameful parts of the past, or they can be part of your testimony. A pastor once said that true healing is evident when that part of your story that you swore you’d never tell anybody becomes the first line of your testimony.

“Do you know what St. Peter says to everyone who tries to get into heaven?” 
…
“Peter says, ‘Don’t you have any scars?’ And when most would respond proudly, ‘Well, no, no I don’t,’ Peter says, ‘Why not? Was there nothing worth fighting for?” (Matthew Perry, Friends, Lovers, and the Big Terrible Thing).

Stories from Scars

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I have a scar on my left hand. It goes back to when I was 18 or 19 years old. I was driving down Poplar Avenue in Memphis, Tennessee to Cat’s Music to do some trading of music. At some point, I passed my destination. Later on, I came to a two-way flashing red light stop.

The problem was that I didn’t know it was a two-way stop. Even if I had known, I probably still wouldn’t have known what to do. The result was me pulling out in front of a full-sized truck and getting hit in the driver’s side door.

In case you’re wondering, I survived. I ended up with a rather garish wound on my left hand. At first, I could see clear to the bone. That’s when I realized that it hurt. A lot.

Thankfully, that was the extent of my injuries. Unfortunately, my car did not survive the encounter. But to this day, I carry the scar as a reminder of the foolishness of my youth and the ever-present and ever-protective grace of God.

Scars tell stories. They speak to wounds that have healed but left visible reminders. As much as the memorial stones set up by the people of God in olden times, scars are a kind of memorial to a time when you survived. They are a testimony to how God met you in the moment of your wounding and carried you through it.

Every time I see my scar, I see God’s goodness. Every time my hand cramps up when I’m writing, I think back to how close I came to not being here. I’m still thankful.

Scars can be shameful if you focus on the wound and the hurt, but they can be sacred if you choose to see how God turned that painful moment into something beautiful and good.

“Darkest water and deepest pain
I wouldn’t trade it for anything
‘Cause my brokenness brought me to you
And these wounds are a story you’ll use

So I’m thankful for the scars
‘Cause without them I wouldn’t know your heart
And I know they’ll always tell of who you are
So forever I am thankful for the scars” (Ethan Hulse, Jon McConnell, Matthew Armstrong, Matthew Hein).

Faith in the Waiting

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I’m revisiting season 3 of The Chosen in anticipation of the new season premiere in February. I just finished the episode where Jesus has a talk with Little James about how God has chosen not to heal him but is sending him out to preach and to heal.

Jesus says that the testimony of Little James’ faith in the midst of his suffering is a greater witness than if he had been healed. God is trusting Little James to be faithful for a little while until the full and final healing comes in eternity.

How many of us are waiting? How many of us have desired that God should make us healed and whole but have yet to see it? How many have prayed for the healing of others and not seen the answer they prayed for and desired so earnestly?

If God granted us everything we ever wanted, our faith would seem like a natural response. It’s only when we hear the words not yet to our petitions, when we don’t get what we ask for, that trust shows itself as supernatural.

The prayers of the saints throughout history has always been along the lines of “Lord, I trust You, no matter what. Use me however You see fit wherever You see fit for as long as You see fit. Have Your way in me, no matter the cost.”

That is the prayer that God honors. That’s the prayer of lives who leave a legacy of faith behind for us to follow.

So you and I can rest in the promises of God even in the waiting and know that whatever God withholds is only because He has something much better in mind that we are not yet ready to receive. Best of all, what we find is that more than anything God could give us apart from Himself is God giving us Himself completely.

Safe Places

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“…maybe on the days we want out of our lives — it isn’t so much that we want to die from shame, but *hide* from shame. But let’s remember: shame gets unspeakable power only if it’s unspeakable. Shame dies when stories are told in safe places.
You know what? Your scars are proof that you’re a kind of bulletproof — because living through the hardest battles proves you can live through any battle. You can trace those scars and let it feed your courage and feel no shame for the wars you’ve come through, no shame for any of your broken.
And tonight we’re just going to take heart — take His heart
and pour a brave and willing love like His
over all the open wounds…
that we may even now
take hope” (Ann Voskamp, The Broken Way). #TheBrokenWay #StrengethingPrayers

Normally, I like to share my own thoughts, but this one practically begged me to share it. I’m positive that someone out there needs this tonight, someone who’s battled shame for a long time and needs to know that there’s hope and freedom just around the corner in one of those safe places.

You’ll never know the freedom over the power of shame until you can find your brave and share your stories– even the hardest and most shameful ones. As my pastor said, healing takes place when the worst moment of your life that you never thought you’d ever share with another living soul becomes the first line of your testimony of God’s deliverance.

My prayer is that you’ll find someone and somewhere safe to tell your shameful secrets so that they no longer hold you captive. Then perhaps your story will encourage someone else to tell his or her story. Someone will her their own story in your words and find their own healing.

 

An Attitude of Gratitude

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I found out that a friend of the family is currently walking through his own valley of the shadow of death in dealing with incurable cancer. To hear the word “cancer” coming out of the mouth of a doctor is scary enough, but to hear it preceded by “terminal” has to be frightening to an almost paralyzing degree.

Yet this friend of mine has faced this diagnosis with dignity and peace and an unswerving faith in the God who is still in the miracle business. While the odds seem insurmountable, I’m reminded yet again that what seems impossible to us isn’t even remotely difficult for God. Just ask any of the blind or lame men that Jesus healed. Or the lepers. Or Lazarus.

My friend said that it all starts with an attitude of gratitude. I truly believe that. A positive mental outlook is half the battle when dealing with a grim medical diagnosis.

Yet it’s more than that. This attitude of gratitude comes from the same place that allowed the Apostle Paul to pen the words that to live is Christ and to die is gain. It’s literally a win-win with Jesus.

Either my friend gets healed here and becomes a witness of God’s healing power or he is resurrected and finds ultimate healing and stands in front of Jesus to hear the words, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

When you think about it, we’re all terminal. After sin entered the world, death followed close behind and that proverbial hourglass started on each one of us. Unless Jesus comes back soon, all of you reading this will come to the place where you breathe your last.

Thanks to Jesus death will not have the final word. The grave is only temporary. The resurrection truly does mean that the worst thing is never the last thing and Jesus will have the final word in your story.

I’m praying for my friend for healing here and now knowing that no matter what happens, God is always good and we are always loved and that grace still wins in the end.

 

I’m Sick Part Two: The Diagnosis

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I finally broke down and went to a walk-in clinic. As it turns out, I have pneumonia.

Let that sink in. That is one scary word right there. I mean, people die from pneumonia, right?

In my case, what I have is nowhere near that bad. I got a shot in the butt (which was awkward) and a prescription for an inhaler and some pills. I should be as good as new in about a week or so.

At least now I know why I’ve had the on-again, off-again fever and fatigue. The condition has a name and a cure.

I have a lot more sympathy now for those who struggle with health issues and undiagnosed ailments. It’s hard to continue feeling bad and not know why you feel that bad. If it looks like there’s no end in sight to the illness, it’s much harder to endure on a day to day basis.

God, be with all those whose ailments have not yet been given a name and give them strength to bear under this season of suffering. Grant to the doctors wisdom and understanding to be able to diagnose and give hope to those who are weary with waiting for answers.

Most of all, bring healing in Your own way and in Your own time to those who need it most.

Amen.

 

Intercession

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“True intercession involves bringing the person, or the circumstance that seems to be crashing in on you, before God, until you are changed by His attitude toward that person or circumstance. People describe intercession by saying, ‘It is putting yourself in someone else’s place.’ That is not true! Intercession is putting yourself in God’s place; it is having His mind and His perspective” (Oswald Chambers).

I heard someone say recently that intercession is being with God for someone else. I have to give credit where credit is due, so most of what follows is based on what I heard from Mary Lou Redding in a prayer talk she gave recently.

It’s not necessarily me praying what I think that person needs. It’s not even sometimes me praying for that person for what they need.

Sometimes the best kind of intercession is the kind where I am silent before God as I visualize bringing that person into the light of God’s presence and letting God decide how best to meet that person’s need.

I do believe we are to pray specifically for others and their needs and we should always pray for people for what they ask us to pray for. I also think that sometimes the best kinds of prayers for others don’t involve words at all.

It’s not like God will do less than what we ask. Oftentimes, He will do more. If you look at the four friends who brought in their paralyzed friend for physical healing, what they got was not only the physical healing but salvation for their friend as well.

I’ve mentioned before that sometimes the way I pray for family and friends is to visualize a chapel with Jesus standing at the front. I see myself bringing that person to Jesus and I see Jesus enveloping that person in a big bear hug. I envision healing washing over that person I am praying for as Jesus wraps His arms around them.

That said, I think all of us who claim the name of Jesus need to do better at praying for others. Not so much in saying, “I”ll pray for you,” and never following through but actually praying for people and letting them know we are praying for them. I know I need to do better.

Maybe today’s a good day to start.