This hope we have as an anchor of the soul, a hope both sure and steadfast and one which enters within the veil, where Jesus has entered… Hebrews 6:19-20a

Tuesday evening, August 5, 2003, the day after by-pass. I sat up in my hospital bed, wires and tubes attached everywhere, and watched the news. Time was blurred, and I was aware of the fact that I had completely lost a day or so, but here I was, done with surgery and ready to mend. And then something on the NBC Nightly News jolted me. “The FBI has issued a warning about bombs being smuggled into the country in briefcases, laptops, and cell phones.”

Last night! I remembered. I woke up last night after by-pass in that dark ICU room with nurses fluttering around me like ministering angels…and I heard from God…and saw what this news report is talking about!

Wee hours of the morning, Tuesday, August 5, ICU. I awoke from the sleep of death with a deep, crushing pain in my chest. I’ve been hit by a truck! I thought, and then remembered—I just had by-pass. And as I lay there, pondering, I became aware of Someone Else who had been crushed. He was crushed for our iniquities; the chastening for our well-being fell upon Him, and by His scourging, we are healed (Isaiah 53:5b). That Scripture became my inward fixation; I pulled as much of that chapter as I could from deep within me, repeating it to myself over and over, like a drowning woman clinging to a rope. And as the nurses ministered,  I focused on the One who was crushed for me—and an amazing transaction took place. I became aware of His intense pain that day on Calvary and felt my pain being swallowed up by His. Yes, the pain was there, but I could feel Him bearing it. And the more I mused on His battered body on that cross, bearing my pain, grief for the One who died such a brutal death flooded me. I grabbed the blonde nurse attending me. “Why couldn’t Jesus have gone to this hospital? You guys would have helped Him!”

“O-Kay….” she said. I may have been drugged, but I could tell an “are-you-ever-weird” tone of voice when I heard one. But I didn’t care in the least.

I settled back down and saw a series of three scenes. After each one, I prayed that I would remember it and repeated them all to myself to commit each one to memory. I felt they were significant.

Scene 1: I was in the lobby of a world-class hotel in a big city (I thought it might be New York). I saw a man set a briefcase on a bench under lush plants, leaving it there. “What’s that?” I asked the Lord. “It’s a bomb,” He replied. Less than 24 hours later, I heard about the same thing on NBC.

Scene 2: I was in an empty baseball stadium. I saw three men on the field by the stands who appeared to be from the middle-east. Because they were wearing dark blue baseball caps,  I had a feeling we were at Dodger stadium in LA. I asked the Lord, “Who are these men?” He replied, “They are terrorists.”

Scene 3: I was outside the administration building of my school district. I saw three people confined to wheelchairs. One was the female coordinator of Social Studies and Communication Arts, and the other two were men I didn’t recognize. I asked the Lord, “Why are they in wheelchairs?” He replied, “Because of the work load and the extreme stress they are under, they are being crippled.”

I prayed over each scene and committed to pray even more when I was clearer-headed. Later, in 2008, I ran into the coordinator in Scene 3. I shared with her what I had seen that night. As she repeated the date, August, 2003, a look of recognition and shock came over her face and the color drained out. She identified the men—her fellow coordinators—and remembered the strain and anguish of that season in their careers. “Yes, we were suffocating under the stress in the district; we wondered among ourselves how we would ever make it…you saw that?”

“Yes, and I prayed for you while I was in the ICU. The Lord cares about you three; I guess He just wants you to know how much.”

Sunday, August 3, 2003. At the Sunday night prayer meeting at church, I prayed with others about the time I would be “out” in surgery the next day. My body would be hooked to a machine to circulate my blood and breathe for me while my heart was stopped, but I—the real me—would be out there somewhere. I asked God to do whatever He wanted with me during that “time out” period—whether it was to just rest or to visit with Him or to fight devils—I was ready and available, and I trusted Him for His protection and leading.

Interpersonal attack, summer 2003. After I learned I would be needing by-pass to avoid sudden death, things seemed to ramp up in the spirit against me. I have learned that this is a favorite tactic of the devil to bring despair, defeat, and discouragement right when you need massive doses of faith, hope, and joy. But good news—I’ve also learned that the Lord is faithful to navigate you safely through it all. In a nutshell, this is what I encountered:

• My dad’s fear for my health back-lashed against me in the form of anger and harsh criticism of the way I was approaching surgery and aftercare
• My sister’s plate was already over-filled with the warzone in her own home with an irrationally-explosive, drug-abusing son (who is now doing much better)
• An acquaintance felt the need to warn me that she thought the surgery would make me worse
• A self-proclaimed prophet—a friend of a friend—told me that if I had surgery I would dishonor God by my blatant unbelief—and it would probably cost me my life
• A relationship I’d been in had disintegrated—he moved on and was starting to see other women in my circle; I was beside myself with torment, anger, and hurt
• I learned I had been the subject of false accusations and misrepresentation from outside my current circle
• I became gripped by a deep sense of aloneness in my life

I felt like I was unraveling at the seams. The heaviness of that summer before surgery was beyond any other demonic attack I had ever experienced. As I sat on my living room floor sobbing, I realized that the enemy was targeting me for stealing, killing, and destroying, and that I had to pull out the big guns against him—utter forgiveness of those who had wronged me. I made up my mind—everyone—no matter what their offense—was forgiven. I would hold nothing against them. I couldn’t afford to enter into this life-and-death procedure with even an ounce of unforgiveness in my heart.

Physical attack, summer 2003. In addition to the strange interpersonal assault I was undergoing, I experienced a couple of odd physical attacks, as well—par for the course for the devil. My elderly cat Amos had been cut while being groomed, and in early July, while his stitches were being removed, the tech clipped him and my peaceful old cat chomped down hard on the first thing he could—my thumb. He pierced it clear through with his fangs and immediately my thumb swelled to the size of a Romano tomato. After a tetanus shot and a ten-day dose of horse-pill sized antibiotics, my thumb shrank back to normal and I could proceed with giving blood to be used for any transfusion I might need. (Every drop was needed—and not a drop more.)

Then, the weekend before surgery, I was preparing for my hospital stay when suddenly the power went out. But this was no weather-related outage—something was on fire! I went to the basement and smoke was coming from behind the electric panel. I called 911, horrified at the big scene that soon landed in front of my house with trucks, lights, sirens and a parade of firemen traipsing downstairs—but the fire was quenched.

Early June, 2003. The harsh reality of what was ahead of me enshrouded me. I sat at my kitchen table, dropped my head, and prayed, “God, I have no husband. Would You be my Husband and find me a good doctor?” He did. I discovered later that the cardiac surgeon I used was ranked second best in the world for cardiac anomalies, the best coming from Japan. A Saudi prince had even flown here to go under the knife of this highly-specialized surgeon.

Late May, 2003. My allergy/anti-anxiety pill prescribing doctor was humoring me. He sent me down to have a stress test, flippantly announcing they would find nothing—but if, in the slim chance they did, I would then undergo an angiogram. I had a feeling I’d be having that procedure.

My sister was swamped at work; my dad lived four hours away; my best friend had a full work load; no one was free to wait with me as I prepared for the agonizingly unknown. Heaviness draped over me like a dull, leaden blanket. I was alone.

The techs attached wires to key points on my body, prepping me for the stress test. A nurse explained the procedure and then abruptly stopped. “Dor? Frick?” She peered into my face. Only high school, camp, and college friends called me that.

I looked at her and she said, “Dor! It’s me! Susie!”

And there she was, standing beside me, straight and strong, smiling and fussing over me with medical professionalism and the connected-depth of shared, conquered trauma.

As I started the test, she told me that she had become fascinated with nursing while in the hospital with her broken back; she married her camp sweetheart; they had kids; and they attended church.

Not too long into the procedure, it became clear that my heart was not functioning properly. She stopped me, got me prepped for cardiac cath, and as we waited, the girl who once-upon-a-time thought she didn’t need God held my hand and prayed for me. The girl who long ago vomited into my hands ministered life and help to me. The girl with whom I once waited at the foot of her cliff now waited with me at the foot of my own cliff.

And God had not left me alone.

Way before 2003 when I was 48, I had a sense that something wasn’t right with my heart. It started in my early thirties. I remember teaching away, in my last class of fourth graders, when wham! I was hit in the chest with gripping pains. I’d hold onto my desk as I stood in front of the kids, quietly praying and trusting God for help. Then as quickly as it would start, it stopped.

Several times over the next ten to fifteen years the same thing would randomly happen. Finally, in my mid-forties, I’d had enough. I went to the doctor.

After a history of my family and health—no heart problems on either side of the family, I didn’t smoke or drink, I was underweight (at the time!), and I was the picture of health—the doctor prescribed allergy meds. No heart check. Just pills.

Well, those pills did help; my eyes weren’t as itchy as they had been, but chest pain still randomly struck.

I returned to the doc again. This time he prescribed anti-anxiety medication. I was secretly outraged, but I didn’t know how to “fight city hall”. Believe me, I’m learning to advocate for myself.

I had a very active lifestyle, but in my early forties, I noticed I was losing steam. It got more intense; I was exhausted with little exertion, but since the chest pains were so infrequent, I thought I was just out of shape. I would try to keep up and did to a point, but would experience long seasons of utter fatigue.

But the whole time, I had that niggling thought in the back of my mind: Get your heart checked.

God is so good! He knows how to take all the garbage the devil throws our way and then He remolds it into amazing deliverance and help. How He does it, I have no clue—but that’s why He’s God and I’m not. And am I ever glad of that!

I am a coffee drinker. I drink lots of it. Used to drink even more—the strong stuff—often espresso drinks. I love my mochas! But, as with many women, caffeine can aggravate the tissue in your breasts. It doesn’t cause cancer, but it can trigger fibroid cysts.

In 2003, I found a humongous, painful lump in my right breast. It was different than any I had ever found. I went to the doctor (a different one) who had known my history of cysts, and he was very concerned following the barrage of mammograms and ultra-sounds. Things didn’t look good; this could be a cyst, but chances were, it might be disguising something more malignant. I needed surgery.

My dad came to town to take me to the hospital; he was at my home that night before the planned lumpectomy. But I was an eighth grade teacher with a full schedule, and had to make four days of detailed lesson plans. I was at work till very late, only to greet my dad briefly when I got home, and then get ready for bed—and surgery in the morning.

Dad was in the guest room asleep as I sat on the edge of my bed around 11:30 or 12. And then, WHAM! I was kicked in the left side of my chest by a mule! I clutched my heart, prayed, bound the devil in Jesus’ name, pled the blood of Jesus, and commanded the pain to cease.

God, what do I do? Do I go to the hospital and then call the hospital in the morning and say I can’t go to the hospital—I’m in the hospital? What should I do?!?

The pain slowly faded and peace came upon me. I would sleep and trust God—and in the morning tell the doctor what happened.

The next morning, after telling my dad about the incident, I told the nurses at the hospital, “I don’t want to be impolite and die on the operating table, so I must tell you, I had kicking chest pains last night.”

A cardiologist was called in, and finally I had my first EKG. And sure enough, it showed that my ticker wasn’t quite right. I told that doctor! I thought, feeling vindicated and not in the least concerned—I knew that God was now taking care of the situation.

I went through the surgery—instead of a gargantuan tumor, they found of cluster of seventeen cysts all twisted together—and removed them, and I was good to go. And I had a quest to pursue—find out about my heart.

Through a flood of tests and procedures and a very frightening angiogram (also known as a cardiac cath) in which the cardiologist could not find one of my coronaries and was cursing under his breath and jamming the scope and storming away only to return and jam again—I prayed, God, either help him now to find it or make him quit. No one’s puncturing my arteries!

He quit. I was glad. And in a far more peaceful environment a week later, in a different test, they found the problem. My right coronary artery was attached to the left side of my heart and wound between my aorta (the candy cane-shaped part) and my pulmonary artery, blocking the flow of blood to the right side of my heart when my heart-rate increased—whether through exercise, stress, anger—whatever.

However, here’s the interesting thing: The only known symptom of my condition is not chest pain—it’s sudden death.

A year after heart surgery—by-pass—I was still experiencing exhaustion and random chest pain. Finally in 2007, I went to an allergist and discovered the cause. I had asthma. And then in 2009, my contractor discovered the mold that had been brewing in the house due to previously-addressed plumbing issues, and now, after removing all the mold, and two great allergists (one human and the other, Almighty), my health is getting better and better all the time.

Here’s the deal:

1. Mold in my house aggravated the unknown condition of asthma.
2. Asthma slowed me down enough to keep my heart from going into overload. (Sudden death typically happens due to a wrongly-routed coronary in the forties. Before that age, there’s usually more room for expansion between the vessels through which the smaller artery runs.)
3. Because of random chest pains (due to asthma), I prayed frequently over my heart for its health and longevity.
4. Because of my love of coffee, I was a cyst factory, which “coincidentally” landed me in the hospital for surgery where someone would finally listen to me and order an EKG the morning after I experienced the granddaddy of all asthma-induced chest pains.

Romans 8:28 states very clearly, “And we know that God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”

God can take the worst that the devil devises against you and turn it around for your good. God’s not behind giving someone a house full of mold or asthma or chest pains or cysts, but He knows how to take the raw material of an attack from the devil and rewire and reroute it into your victory and for your good.

If you are dealing with the unknown or the scary, rest assured: God will cause it all to work together for your good because you love Him and you are called according to His purpose. Stand on that truth, and let it be the pillow on which you lay your head at night. You are loved by the Lover of your soul, and He will be your strength, your help, and your deliverer. Amen.

Dorothy

Tomorrow: Not alone

The night before, Susie, a 16 year-old backslidden Christian who joined our group as a junior counselor, said these words to me: “I’m president of student counsel; I’m popular, and I’m doing just fine on my own. I don’t need God.”

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, a couple of girls bounded up to the sleeping counselors, seeking permission to go on an early morning hike.

“Mmmmphh,” I mumbled. Susie volunteered to go with them, so I told them to be back by breakfast.

Off they went while I drifted back to sleep. That slumber was short-lived, however; what seemed to be mere minutes later, Laura, my co-counselor, and I were awakened to the sound of a cry of terror, a loud crash, and the ensuing shrieks of seventeen teen-aged girls.

We leaped up out of our sleeping bags, expecting to see a huge water or pillow fight and all of the accompanying chaos that fifteen year-old girls can create.

Instead, what we saw sent an icy chill up my spine on that quickly warming July morning.

There, under the cliff near the girls’ strewn sleeping bags, lay Susie on her back, screaming in agony, scratching the air and kicking furiously as if at some unseen demon. Strings of profanities were spewing out of her mouth between cries for help. The girls ran around in horrified pandemonium as Laura and I ran to the site.

“She fell! She fell!” one of the hikers burst out, crying hysterically. “She fell from up there!” I looked to the top of the cliff where she pointed; Susie had fallen the thirty-five foot distance and landed on her back right in the center of an old, abandoned campfire circle, her head just an inch or two from a large stone bordering the old site, her legs and arms also just inches from the other hefty boundary rocks. One thing we didn’t notice right away, however, was that she had landed right on top of a jutting slice of bedrock across the lower part of her back. Susie was out of her mind with panic and pain.

We corralled the girls and gave the more rationally-behaving ones the job of organizing everyone else in breakfast, clean up, and break down of our site; Susie needed medical attention as soon as we could contact camp, and that meant leaving the river as soon as possible. (Remember, this was 1976, before cell phones.) The girls leapt into action and were absolute champs in gaining an atmosphere of proactive peace and self-control.

I stayed with Susie while Laura had the daunting task of sprinting a mile or so away to the nearest farmhouse to find a phone where she could call camp.

Meanwhile, Susie’s crying and profanities mixed with apologies and pleas for mercy from God. I prayed with her, listening to discern what the Lord would have me to do. She was in shock, so I covered her with a light sleeping bag and spoke calmly to her. “Let me get up!” she started screaming. “I want to get up! I can walk!”

I continued listening—probing in my spirit—to hear what God wanted me to do. I had heard of miracles; I knew the Lord was very capable of pulling one off right now for Susie, and I thought that would be extremely cool.

But instead, I sensed caution; He reminded me of my first aid classes and the warning not to move a potential back or neck injury victim, risking further damage to the spinal cord. So there I stayed with Susie—who was still alternating between profanity and repentance—as I brushed away the big fuzzy flies that were gathering.

At some point in our wait for help, she needed to relieve herself. What do I do now? I wondered. If her spine moves, it could be worse, but I can’t let her pee all over herself!

I made the decision to give her dignity while attempting to keep her spine as stationary as possible. I unzipped her jeans shorts, and as carefully as I could, I scooted them and her panties below her hips and gently placed a camp frying pan beneath her. Mission accomplished. She was relieved, and I pulled the panties and shorts back up as far as I could to cover her without moving her. That frying pan, however, was pulled out of commission and headed back to camp in the trash.

Laura had returned by now; an hour had gone by; and no rescue team had shown up. The couple in the farmhouse allowed Laura to use their phone; she called camp and reached the guy in charge of transportation. She told him, “Susie had a little fall; we think she may be hurt, and we need to have you come get us right away.” You see, our first aid training had focused on keeping calm and in control; harsh, panicked words could escalate the victim’s alarm and make things far worse. But, Susie wasn’t at that farmhouse; she was under the cliff, and Laura’s calm words sent a false signal of “no big deal” to the guys who could help us. They had another cup of coffee and cleaned up a bit of business before they left. I learned a valuable lesson from this: Never sugar-coat the threat to your security or safety if you want action. This applies, incidentally, right now in our nation.

Three hours after her fall, the guys strolled down the quarter-mile path to our site leading from the place where Big Red and the van were parked. The minute he saw Susie and understood the situation, Rod, the guy in charge, began weeping. “I am so sorry!” he took me aside and said. “I thought that it was no big deal! She’s always visiting the infirmary with something or other; I thought this was just more of the same!”

One of the other guys sprinted the quarter-mile path to Big Red and removed the wooden gate from the rear of the old truck, trekking back at top speed with it under his arm. We padded it with sleeping bags, and the guys, Laura and I, and a few strong girls circled Susie, and at the count of three, we lifted her as a unit onto the padded gate. Then we carried her as level as we could down the quarter-mile path to the cargo van. We followed the same synchronized procedure to place her on the floor of the van, carefully securing the padded gate beneath her. Laura assured me that she and the girls would take care of the rest, and I rode in the back of the van with Susie while Rod high-tailed it to the farmhouse to call the sheriff for assistance.

The call was made, and we drove to the black top highway where we were met by two vehicles. One led us, top speed with sirens blaring, and the other followed, lights flashing, to the county hospital.

At this point, Susie was growing a pale shade of green. “I’m gonna be sick,” she croaked. I surveyed the floor of the van for anything to help; nothing. And then I remembered—my bandana! I was wearing a bandana—pirate (or ‘70’s hippie) style—around my head. I pulled it off, cupped it in my hands, and instructed Susie to only turn her head to the side and not to move her back; I would catch the vomit.

She did—over and over again—while I caught every bit of it in that beloved bandana. And miraculously, she neither moved her back nor choked on the vomit.

I was never more relieved to see a place than I was to see that emergency room. Attendants were at the back door of the van, moving Susie with professional expertise onto a waiting gurney. Rod left me at the hospital to return to the campsite to help with packing and transporting the group back to camp. I tied up the bandana and its contents into a soggy bundle and dropped it in the trash receptacle by the entrance of the hospital.

As I waited there alone, I couldn’t help but reflect on the conversation the night before. “I don’t need God,” she had boldly asserted. And now, she needed Him. And He was willing to help her. Instinctively, I knew that God didn’t cause my young friend to fall off of that cliff despite her defiance; however, I believed He had met her at the foot of that precipice—and that He would not fail her or forsake her.

Soon I was startled into the present again when a stern doctor addressed me. “Are you the one who gave care to Susan after the fall?” he demanded.

Uh oh, I squirmed. “Yes, sir,” I whispered.

“Well, let me tell you, young lady—her back was broken in a very precarious place; any pressure or movement one way or the other, and it would have cost your friend her mobility; it would have left her paralyzed. But what you did ensured that her fracture didn’t damage her nerves, and she will be fine and walking around in a brace in two weeks. And after that—she’ll be as good as new.”

In my numbness, all I could do was nod and thank him.

I have no idea how I made it back to camp; the rest of that session is a blur. But when I returned home between third and fourth sessions, my mom came into my room and sat on my bed to talk, oblivious to the ordeal I had just been a part of. And for the first time since Susie’s fall, I cried. I broke down and sobbed and poured out my heart to my mom as she rocked me and held me tight.

The doctor was right; after fourth session I visited Susie, and she was up and about in her back brace, all smiles and energy. The sweet humility was back, too; she had time to think and pray and process, and although she was unsure how quickly she would jump back in to church, she knew—beyond a shadow of  doubt—she needed God.

Tomorrow: Is it unknown or scary? God can turn it

A microburst of revival hit the camp where I worked as a counselor during the summer of 1975. For all of the staff and many of the campers, Jesus was front and center—whether you liked it or not. When God moves, no one can box Him in or shut Him out.

I was a leadership counselor that summer, meaning I trained teens in a two-summer program to be counselors. I had also gone through the program as a teen, and now—at the ripe old age of 20—I was training 15 and 16 year olds myself. But I was not the bitter feminist I had been the summer before; I had been born again and was on fire for Jesus. For an up-close glimpse into the revival that happened the summer of ’75, see http://www.firstofallpray.com/?p=1447.

One 15 year old leader-in-training that summer had also recently been saved, and she and I had an instant connection in the Lord. Susie’s face beamed whenever I shared my testimony with the other teens, and I always egged her on to tell her story as well, which she was thrilled to do.

In 1976, I returned to help direct the same leadership program. Susie was back as well for her second year of the training, and I was eager to catch up with her to hear about all of her adventures in God. I figured that once you were saved, you stayed on fire. Was I ever shocked to learn that this was not always the case!

Susie had backslidden over her past year in high school. She was gracious enough but made it clear that she had no interest in talking about the Lord. I was stumped, but I just loved her and treated her like all my other counselors-in-training. And I prayed for her.

After their first session as a group under the tutelage of three other twenty-somethings and me, the teens then launched out into the various areas and programs of the camp as junior counselors (JCs). They were not paid for their first JC experience, but many plugged in to other areas after that to make a whopping $30 or so a session. Susie was one of those who stuck around after her first cabin of kids.

Third session arrived, and the leadership program was devoid of boys for that 10-day period—first time ever. So the two male counselors ditched Laura, my cohort, and me to fill in at other positions for the session. That was fine; we had a great group of seventeen rambunctious girls, full of life and fun, and they didn’t seem to care at all about the missing guys.

Each leadership session went on a three-night camping trip, usually somewhere out on one of Missouri’s scenic rivers. We typically chose remote locations—not the big campgrounds—and taught primitive camping skills and rudimentary camp crafts. And mainly, we just kicked back and enjoyed nature and each other. But with this group of seventeen girls, the camp director felt we needed a third leader to accompany us on the camping trip, so he asked Susie to fill the bill.

Off we went, along with an ecstatic Susie, piled with our gear into a van and the back of Big Red. Big Red was a ramshackle old truck that had been there ever since I was a camper, outfitted with wooden rails surrounding the wooden truck bed, and those rails were the only things separating sleeping bags, equipment, and teen-aged girls from bouncing out onto the winding two-lane highways and gravel roads. Our drivers flew down those country roads, and we sang and laughed and hung on for dear life.

We made it to our spot—a very remote location on the Meramec River. What an amazing site! The girls made camp under a thirty-five foot cliff, and the three counselors set up closer to the river, nestling our ground tarps and sleeping bags on the luxurious comfort of the sandy bar by the stream.

Of course, at night, there was the campfire and s’mores following my favorite camp supper of foil packs with hamburger, potatoes, onions, and cheese baked in glowing embers before we built the fire into a towering flaming giant.

After the last song was sung and the last tale had been told, with the fire dying back to quiet crackling, I shared about the Lord of nature who loved all of us so much that He gave His Son. The girls listened attentively, but I noticed that Susie was looking down, not giving eye contact. After the girls retreated to their sleeping bags, Laura decided to turn in for the night as well, leaving Susie and me to talk.

She told me that her past year in high school was incredible. She had made a whole new set of friends and had become very involved in everything. I asked about her relationship with Jesus, wanting to minister the love and grace of God to her.

“I’m president of student counsel,” she asserted. “I’m popular, and I’m doing just fine on my own. I don’t need God.”

She was flirting with danger. As I argued and pleaded and shared with her out of Scripture that she certainly did need the Lord, that He longed for her to return to Him, she rebuffed every word I said.

I crawled into my sleeping bag, praying quietly for her long into the night.

The next morning, at the crack of dawn, a couple of girls bounded up to the counselors—snoozing away in our sleeping bags—ready to hike.

“Mmmmphh,” I mumbled. Susie volunteered to go with them, so I told them to be back by breakfast.

And what happened next to the girl who “didn’t need God” would be indelibly branded onto my soul—and hers—forever.

Tomorrow: On the edge of the cliff without God.

I am a firm believer that God causes all things to work together for good for those who love Him and who are called according to His purposes. Notice, I did not say that I believe that God causes all things, as some erroneously believe. I do not and cannot accept that about the Lord who died for me. He only does wondrous things (see Psalm 72:18, KJV), and according to the Apostle James, “Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow” (James 1:17).

Now this truth in Romans 8 does not mean that you’ll “float by on flowery beds of ease” as one of my favorite Bible teachers used to say. It doesn’t mean that you’ll no longer live in a fallen world; it doesn’t mean that natural law will be forever suspended for you (although God will provide miracles galore for you); it doesn’t mean that you will never suffer consequences due to lapses in judgment or sin; nor does it mean that the devil will never seek to attack you again. It simply means this: As you follow the Lord and love Him with all your heart, your soul, and your strength, you can trust that He will turn everything that comes your way around for your good because you are called according to His purpose. His mercies never fail (see Lamentations 3:22), and He cares for you affectionately and cares about you watchfully (1 Peter 5:7b, AMP).

This Romans 8 truth is where I choose to park my car, to anchor my boat, and to camp out for the rest of my life. Joshua said, “…as for me and my house, we will serve the LORD” (Joshua 24:15b), and I choose to say, “As for me, God causes all things [even demonic attacks!] to turn around for my good because I love Him and am called according to His purpose.” Because of our loving Heavenly Father and His precious Son and the mighty Holy Spirit, all things will turn around for our good and will be made into stepping stones for our feet as we embrace our God and His call on our lives!

When you go through trials, it is critical to remind yourself that God absolutely does turn all things around for your good. And like everything else in His kingdom, you access this wonderful privilege that belongs to you by faith—by simply trusting Him to do for you what He has promised in His Word to do.

This week I will be sharing two experiences from my life which clearly illustrate this fact. And although these two stories are completely unrelated, you will be surprised how God tied them together supernaturally to bring blessing and comfort to me when I most needed it.

We live, move, and have our being under the wings and the protective shadow of an awesome God!

Dorothy

Faithful is He who calls you, and He also will bring it to pass. 1 Thessalonians 5:24

But the Lord is faithful, and He will strengthen and protect you from the evil one. 2 Thessalonians 3:3

Jesus had just fed four thousand men along with at least as many women and children, using only seven loaves and a few small fish (see Matthew 15:34). The leftovers from that meal filled seven large baskets.

After this mind-boggling miracle, both Jesus and His disciples were accosted by vicious challenges to their secure connection with God.

One challenge targeted Jesus Himself. The Pharisees and Sadducees contested the Lord’s authority with a brazenly snide challenge to the miraculous power of God which was flowing from Him. The other challenge zeroed in on the disciples. This one was a devilishly subtle twisting of the words of Jesus in their minds that filled them with shame and a sense of not measuring up.

The disciples vs. the Connection-Challengers

Jesus definitely had the edge over any connection-challengers that came His way. He had this going for Him: “…He did not need anyone to testify concerning man, for He Himself knew what was in man” (see John 2:25). His disciples, however, were not so perceptive. When their connection was challenged, they often didn’t see through the attacks, and they needed help not to succumb to lies meant to undermine their confidence in the Lord.

Jesus had just silenced His self-righteous taunters with the example of Jonah (see Matthew 16:4 and my previous entry, http://www.firstofallpray.com/?p=4391). He took advantage of the “teachable moment” and told His disciples, “Watch out and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.”

What happened next was completely unexpected; out of left field condemnation and a deep sense of shame overtook the disciples because of what Jesus said. As out of kilter as it sounds, this is a common tactic of the devil. Day in and day out, the enemy of our soul busily seeks to twist and weaponize the Word of God against us to bind us up in condemnation, confusion, and shame.

Jesus had just warned His disciples, “Watch out and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.” The leaven of which He spoke was hypocrisy—looking spiritually “together” on the outside, while inwardly, pride and rebellion raged against true connection with the Lord.

Jesus was actually saying to His disciples,”Boys, you’re doing great. You’re  following Me; just keep your connection with the Father genuine, simple, and tight like it is right now. It’s when folks get all gummed up in looking good and keeping up with the religious ‘Joneses’ that they start losing their grip on what’s really important.”

But His disciples didn’t hear that. When Jesus said, “Watch out and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees,” they heard, “You Bozos! You forgot the bread AGAIN?!”

The Book of Matthew expresses their thinking a little more politely. It says, “They began to discuss this among themselves, saying, ‘He said that because we did not bring any bread’” (Matthew 16:7).

Let’s think about this. Jesus was using a teachable moment to train His men to discern religious agendas. The leaven He was exposing was an imposed conformity to looking holy as opposed to simply and freely connecting to the Holy One Himself. This type of leaven was all about how things looked on the surface.

While Jesus was warning them to avoid getting caught up in appearances, the disciples were worried about how stupid they must look because they forgot the bread. We’re idiots! they were probably thinking. We look so inept! We’ll never measure up! Jesus must be disgusted with us—He’s talking about leaven because we forgot the bread! Their minds were spinning out of control and condemnation was having a heyday.

The disciples were yielding to the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees by buying into the agenda of “you have to look right to others to be right”. They yielded to the leaven of hypocrisy by assuming that their relationship with Jesus hinged—not upon the genuineness of humble connection—but upon whether they had performed with perfection.

Unfortunately, this thinking plagues believers in our time as well. Whether you seek to perform to obtain approval from God or man—like the disciples—or like the Pharisees, you seek to appear more spiritual to gain advantage over others, Jesus is speaking loud and clear: “Watch out and beware of the leaven of the Pharisees and Sadducees.”

In closing, here are the notes that I wrote that snowy morning to sum up everything that I had received from the Lord that day about connection:

“PERFORMANCE and APPEARANCE VS. HEARTFELT CONNECTION

“Trusting in my performance and adjusting my appearance to avoid disapproval leads to disconnect before God. But when I prioritize connection with the Lord, performance and appearance will take a back seat to God’s will for me. Interestingly enough, however, as I merely obey what He reveals about connecting with Him, appearance and performance will take care of themselves and be conformed to His will naturally.”

Bless you as you connect tightly with the Lord.

Dorothy

And immediately thereafter…

The Pharisees and Sadducees came up, and testing Jesus, they asked Him to show them a sign from heaven. Matthew 16:1

Jesus had just fed four thousand men along with at least as many women and children, using only seven loaves and a few small fish (see Matthew 15:34). The leftovers from that meal filled seven large baskets.

After this mind-boggling miracle, both Jesus and His disciples were accosted by vicious challenges to their secure connection with God.

One challenge targeted Jesus Himself. The other challenge zeroed in on the disciples. And it all came via the demands of “prove-yourself” religion, complete with a heavy dose of “appearances-R-us”.

Jesus vs. the Connection-Challengers

Instead of scrambling to whip up a miracle to impress the religious heavyweights before Him, Jesus replied back to them with a challenge of His own:

“When it is evening, you say, ‘It will be fair weather, for the sky is red.’ And in the morning, ‘There will be a storm today, for the sky is red and threatening.’ Do you know how to discern the appearance of the sky, but cannot discern the signs of the times?”  (Matthew 16:2b-3).

He stated the obvious: they knew how to accurately predict the weather by looking at the appearance of the sky; but even though they heard and saw the miraculous works of Jesus, they refused to acknowledge the reality of what they were witnessing. In their arrogant rejection of the Truth standing before them, they attempted to dismiss the Lord by downgrading the display of God’s mighty power to the status of carnival tricks (Show us a sign, they mocked, like teenagers at a magic show hosted by a second-rate magician).

Jesus could read their intentions like an open book. Bottom line: they wanted to stop the manifestation of God in His life—or at least control it. And they were attempting to do so by intimidating Him with scorn, hoping to push His buttons. If they could coerce Jesus to try to “prove” Himself to them, they would be in control, having gained the upper hand.

But Jesus would have none of it. Instead, He declared, “‘An evil and adulterous generation seeks after a sign; and a sign will not be given it, except the sign of Jonah.’ And He left them and went away” (Matthew 16:4).

The web had been woven; the spiders were eagerly awaiting their prey; but this One refused to be caught and instead, snared the predators with their own web.

Here’s my paraphrase of the words Jesus used to confront them:

You seek after a sign, you say, but we all know the truth. You don’t intend to give God the glory for any sign He displays in your midst. That’s because you are an evil, adulterous bunch—you’ve strayed from the One to whom you were betrothed.

But the Lord gave them a sign, nonetheless—the sign of Jonah. And then He walked away.

Of all the Old Testament signs Jesus could have cited, He chose Jonah.

Yes, Jonah was swallowed alive by a big fish and was trapped within its belly for three days and nights before being vomited onto dry ground. In this way, Jesus was foreshadowing His death, burial, and resurrection.

But there was another pointed reason that Jesus chose the sign of Jonah, in my opinion. Jonah, the prophet of God and the man with the message, was all about—at least throughout most of the book bearing his name—Jonah. And the Pharisees and Sadducees knew it.

Jonah fled in disobedience from the Lord when God wanted him to preach to Ninevah. The Pharisees and Sadducees knew this.

A storm overtook the ship upon which Jonah was sailing and catastrophe was about to befall everyone onboard on account of Jonah. And the Pharisees and Sadducees knew it.

The storm ceased when the crew threw Jonah overboard. And the Pharisees and Sadducees knew this.

A giant fish swallowed Jonah alive. And the Pharisees and Sadducees knew it.

Jonah was forced to acknowledge his rebellion and sin while sloshing around inside the fish’s stomach contents. And the Pharisees and Sadducees knew this.

The fish vomited Jonah onto dry land—quite an ignoble deliverance for such an important man. And the Pharisees and Sadducees knew it.

Jonah preached to Ninevah, and the Ninevites repented before God with fasting, sackcloth, and ashes—signs of truly humble, repentant hearts. And the Pharisees and Sadducees knew this.

God did not judge Ninevah, and because of this, Jonah was furious. And the Pharisees and Sadducees knew it.

There was more. Jonah rested under a plant appointed by God which gave him shade and comfort…and then it was attacked by a worm and died. And Jonah pouted, whined, fretted, and wished to die. The prophet—the religious heavyweight—threw a tantrum. And the Pharisees and Sadducees knew it.

And the sign of Jonah, given to the Pharisees and Sadducees—men of great religious import—was a fore shadow of the death, burial, and resurrection of Christ.

But that day—in the arena with men who presumed to know God and to be judges on His behalf—Jonah was also held up by Jesus as a mirror. And as the stunned Pharisees and Sadducees watched Jesus walk away, they could only gaze into the mirror of Jonah—in all of his rebellion and self-absorption—and they saw themselves. And they knew it.

Dorothy

In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He will make your paths straight. Proverbs 3:6

When I taught younger grades, I encouraged my students to frequently quiz themselves on their math facts. That way, they would be able to recall sums and differences, products and quotients at the speed of thought—not at the speed of tapping fingers or after finding a calculator. And with practice, even the more math-phobic ones among them could hold their own.

Youngsters need to review their math facts repeatedly until those answers are as retrievable as their birthday or the name of their favorite pet. In my opinion, such “drill and kill” preparations don’t create math-phobia (especially if conducted in a positive environment where stickers or Jolly Ranchers are involved); such practice actually frees students from one more reason to be math-phobic—I can’t remember anything; I’m just stupid in math!

Jesus spoke of the man who heard the Word and acted upon it, likening him to a wise builder who chose to construct his house on solid rock. He emphasized building on bedrock before the storms arose; and despite the time and effort needed to do so, the alternative—an express-house built on the sand—just wouldn’t be able to withstand the tempest.

Jesus placed great importance upon hearing His word and acting upon it in a consistent, life-building way. If you have accepted the challenge from Jesus to live with determined, intentional hearing and acting—like that child who regularly repeats her math facts—then when the rains fall, the floods come, and the winds blow and slam against your life, you will be able to withstand it all. You will pass the test.

One way to help yourself be consistent with building on the Rock of your salvation is to forget none of His benefits. Remind yourself again and again of the wonderful benefits of your connection with the Lord. Psalm 103 lists them. He:

• pardons all your sins
• heals all your diseases
• redeems your life from the pit
• crowns you with lovingkindness and compassion
• satisfies your years with good things
• renews your youth like the eagle

Like that child learning her multiplication tables, it wouldn’t hurt to build this six-point list into your spiritual memory so that it instantly comes to mind the second you need it.

Another way to consistently build upon the solid foundation of Jesus is to remind yourself frequently of the wonderful things He has done in your life. When I feel attacked and defeated, I will often use my prayer time to review aloud before God all of the sweet, miraculous, remarkable, and kind things He has done for me personally. I’ve learned that as long as my eyes are on my problems and how bad I feel, I won’t ever truly see God as my help in times of trouble, and therefore, it’s impossible to go before Him in faith. But when I start reminding Him of what He has done for me in the past, it isn’t long before joy and praise, confidence and faith arise within me, abolishing despair and defeat. And now I’m in faith, and although I still have no clue how He’ll get me out of this one, I know He will!

A third way to build on that sturdy foundation of the Lord is to acknowledge Him in all your ways. How do you do this? When I was a young believer, I practiced talking to Him about whatever I was doing; I  even asked His opinion once about whether I should get Coke or Dr Pepper on a road trip (I was pretty sure He suggested DP). 

As silly as my soda inquiry sounds, an important aspect of building on the Rock of your salvation is to keep the lines of communication open. And that means acknowledging Him in all of your ways.

I also remember realizing after I had forgotten for several weeks to keep a running conversation going with the Lord, that I was shocked at the difference in the way life felt when I consistently talked to God versus when I didn’t. My conclusion in those early days? Life felt better when I kept up a conversation with God. And you know something? Nearly forty years later, it still does!

Let’s review. Three ways to build on the Rock and to keep your connection with Jesus tight are:

1. Forget none of His benefits.
2. Regularly review aloud all the good things that God has done for you.
3. In all your ways, acknowledge Him.

May you find great joy and security as you build your life on the Rock!

Dorothy

This I recall to my mind, therefore I have hope.The Lord’s lovingkindnesses indeed never cease, for His compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. Lamentations 3:21-23

Pharaoh had finally insisted that Israel depart Egypt following a series of ten plagues which fell upon the land, one after another.

Yet soon after Moses and God’s people left, this happened: “When the king of Egypt was told that the people had fled, Pharaoh and his servants had a change of heart toward the people, and they said, ‘What is this we have done, that we have let Israel go from serving us?’” (Exodus 14:5.)

Sometimes God will grant you a great deliverance—you are born again; perhaps you get healed from sickness or are delivered from an awful addiction—and the devil smacks the side of his head in fury, stomps his feet, and determines this: I can’t let him go! I’ve gotta recapture her! You see, you submitted to God; He delivered you with His mighty hand; now the devil is enraged and wants you back—or at least to re-bind you so you’ll be hindered from inflicting further damage upon his kingdom.

This is what happened to Israel after they exited Egypt. Pharaoh and his troops set out after the exiles to drag them back to Egypt and resume their servitude.

“As Pharaoh drew near, the sons of Israel looked, and behold, the Egyptians were marching after them, and they became very frightened; so the sons of Israel cried out to the Lord” (Exodus 14:10).

A massive attack against the people of God was looming—just upon the doorstep—and the people spoke harshly against Moses in their panic (see verses 11-12).

But Moses, every bit as vulnerable as the people, spoke with confidence in the living God. “Do not fear! Stand by and see the salvation of the Lord which He will accomplish for you today; for the Egyptians whom you have seen today, you will never see them again forever. The Lord will fight for you while you keep silent” (verses 13-14).

I believe that Moses had no idea how they would be delivered at this point; he merely spoke from the place of trust in God’s purpose, power, and loving connection. And I believe that God’s response—a test in the midst of the test—was an act of drawing near to Moses who had chosen to draw near to and honor Him in the face of sure annihilation. Here’s what God said:

“Tell the sons of Israel to go forward. As for you, lift up your staff and stretch out your hand over the sea and divide it, and the sons of Israel shall go through the midst of the sea on dry land” (verses 15b-16).

Moses heard the words God spoke and he acted upon them. The rest is history—the Red Sea parted, the Israelites crossed over on dry ground unscathed, the Egyptian army pursued through the walls of water, and were subsequently crushed under the sheer force of the sea falling back into place.

After that amazing deliverance, Israel rejoiced in exuberant song and dance. But soon they found themselves in the wilderness for three days without water—and they complained bitterly.

“When they came to Marah, they could not drink the waters of Marah, for they were bitter; therefore it was named Marah. So the people grumbled at Moses, saying, ‘What shall we drink?’” (Exodus 15:23-24).

Again, circumstances turned south and the people were under attack—this time in severe need of water. And once again, just after victoriously worshiping God for His miraculous intervention, they complained bitterly.

And yet again, Moses held himself steady and turned to God.

“Then he cried out to the Lord, and the Lord showed him a tree; and he threw it into the waters, and the waters became sweet” (verse 25a).

Yet again, God responded with a test within the test: throw the tree I’m showing you into the water. Moses heard the word of the Lord and acted upon it, and God followed through with miraculous intervention.

Are you picking up on a pattern? Here’s what I’m seeing:

• A test comes through circumstances—orchestrated by wicked men, the devil, or stressful, unpleasant events.
• A choice is made—either to complain bitterly or to trust in God.
• When trust in God is chosen, God hears and responds with a “test within the test”—in other words, He gives you something to obey or act upon.
• You hear the word of God and act upon it—you do that thing which God tells you to do.
• God responds with miraculous intervention.

Two times in a row, God heard the lone voice of trust within a sea of bitter complaints and responded with deliverance. However, both times, the rescue was based upon a “test within the test”. Would the people let go of their panic, fear, and anxiety long enough to hear the word of God and then to act on it? “Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock” (Matthew 7:24).

The waters became sweet and safe to drink when Moses heard God’s instruction and acted upon it. And it followed that “there He made for them a statute and regulation, and there He tested them. And He said, “If you will give earnest heed to the voice of the Lord your God, and do what is right in His sight, and give ear to His commandments, and keep all His statutes, I will put none of the diseases on you which I have put on the Egyptians; for I, the Lord, am your healer” (Exodus 15:25b-26; emphasis added).

What is the test of the Lord?

• Give earnest heed to the voice of the Lord your God and give ear to His commandments.
• Do what is right in His sight and keep all His statutes.

The “test within a test” is God’s way of delivering you when all hell breaks loose against you. The trial or attack threatening you is not from God; but when it hits you, He will provide an escape route so that you will not be destroyed (see 1 Corinthians 10:13). And that escape route is what Jesus taught at the end of the Sermon on the Mount: Hear these words of Mine and act upon them (see Matthew 7:24).

So, the next trial you face, choose to trust God rather than to panic, despair, or complain. Call to Him, listen to His Word, and obey what He shows you to do. He will not leave you in the lurch. He will give you a simple “test within the test,” and as you obey, He will come through for you.

He will always provide the way of escape.

Dorothy

No temptation has overtaken you but such as is common to man; and God is faithful, who will not allow you to be tempted beyond what you are able, but with the temptation will provide the way of escape also, so that you will be able to endure it. 1 Corinthians 10:13

Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock. Matthew 7:24

Connections will also be tested without any warning at all due to random events that occur beyond the control of the individual. Because of such unforeseen events—hurricanes, tornadoes, earthquakes, etc.—architects and city planners have learned to build structures and systems to withstand a variety of cataclysmic misadventures.

Testing is an integral part of good architectural design. Without testing, there is no way of knowing whether a structure will be able to hold up against the worst of nature or evilly-motivated men. This testing is designed to tweak and adjust, retrofit and restructure so that buildings will be able to stand—and so that the lives of those living or working within will survive if the unthinkable happens.

So, there is a good kind of test and an evil kind of test. The good kind of test prepares for the worst but is designed to bring about the best outcome possible. The evil kind of test collides with everything in its path to wreak havoc and destruction.

Guess which type of test is from God? Guess which type is not from Him? In light of the architectural analogy, it’s not hard to discern the difference.

Jesus used an architectural analogy Himself when instructing His followers concerning being prepared for the cruel tests of life. As He concluded His Sermon on the Mount, He revealed that His words were not only to be heard, but to be acted upon, as well. Jesus, the wise Teacher, had just distributed the test—words of life and sober truth—among the crowd, and He set the bar high.

“Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock,” He declared (Matthew 7:24). He was saying, in essence, You’ve heard Me; now, if you are wise, you will follow through. This was a test—a controlled, Teacher-directed test in a safe environment.

Take a closer look at the test:

• Hear these words of Mine
• Act on them

Jesus is teaching you and me today exactly the same thing He instructed His disciples long ago on the Mount of Olives. The controlled test of the Lord, presented and conducted in a safe environment, is simply to hear His words and to act on them. Daily. Often. Consistently. Time and again. Over and over. Regularly.

But why?

“...the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock” (Matthew 7:25; emphasis added).

Studying the Word of God and acting on it is like building a house on solid bedrock. And it is in the safe, controlled environment of learning the Word and putting it into practice that you become equipped to face the cruel tests of life. Rains fall. Floods come. Winds blow. They slam against all of our lives—and if you have built your life upon the Word of God, you will not be destroyed.

Jesus also said this: “Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not act on them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand” (Matthew 7:26; emphasis added). You hear His Word—you’re in the safe-zone, the perfect testing environment for absorbing the truth of the Bible and then obeying what you learn; but you decide you have better things to do.

Oh, that’s OK—God’s really a great Guy. He’ll cover it, you may think. You’ve built a lovely beachfront home, right there on Sandy Lane over by Easy Street, and you are enjoying life at its best. You almost feel sorry for all those poor clods who dig away at the Rock day in and day out, building and calculating and fitting and testing their structures for soundness. They’ve gone off the deep end, you may chuckle to yourself.

But you didn’t take into consideration one teensy, tiny point—typhoon season!

“The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and it fell—and great was its fall” (Matthew 7:27; emphasis added).

Jesus clearly revealed the way to not only survive the worst that life could throw your way but to overcome in the midst of it, too. As you allow the Lord to test you by receiving His words and then acting on them in the safe, controlled environment of your everyday life, you build on a solid foundation with materials of an imperishable nature. And when storms crash against your life, you will stand and prevail, because you’ve built upon the bedrock of God’s Word.

May we value to the fullest extent the safe, controlled testing environment of hearing His Word and acting upon it in our everyday lives.

Dorothy

The wise woman builds her house, but the foolish tears it down with her own hands. Proverbs 14:1

But prove yourselves doers of the word, and not merely hearers who delude themselves. James 1:22