Plumb Lines and Worship

I have noticed that the preparation for a remarkable worship experience usually starts much earlier in the week—with a breaking of the will, a breaking of an idol, or some diligence in Spirit-led labor. That work started for me on Thursday, and I could sense the fruit of it almost as soon as I walked through the door of the church this morning. With the help of a dear friend on Thursday night, I held my heart up to the plumb line of Scripture and found it lacking in some very specific ways. With the help of the Spirit, I repented of that sin and turned from it. I turned from it again on Friday, on Saturday, today. No, I have not turned perfectly, but I continue turning. And God did not despise my broken and contrite heart.

When I have met the Lord in worship, my whole being is permeated with a sense of purpose. There were infusions of that to my heart this morning…and it was evident to me that my brothers and sisters were also worshipping in Spirit and in truth. I think of the friend a few rows ahead of me who was praising the Lord in diligent abandon, both choosing and chosen by joy. Her fervent worship in the Spirit spurred me on when I was feeling weary. I remember the countless ways that the Gospel was presented—in our songs, prayers, and recitations—long before we ever got to the sermon. I rejoiced at the realization that unbelievers were hearing this good news, even as I rejoiced at my own salvation. We prayed corporately through Psalm 51 and my heart was made hopeful and glad again:

“Have mercy on me,O God,according to your steadfast love; according to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin! For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me. Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight…For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise.

Never, no never, despised.

My small group gathered around me after the service to pray for me and to learn how they could serve me. They honored the Lord, and even me, for the work that is being accomplished in my life right now. I was reminded again of the verse in I Corinthians 12, “If one member suffers, all suffer together; if one member is honored, all rejoice together.” I couldn’t help but thinking that the Lord must be pleased with their obedience--an obedience that was truly the overflow of their hearts. The bond of unity in the spirit held us tightly together this morning; truly, we are members one of another!

For perhaps the first time since I got sick, I was able both physically and emotionally to sustain interaction with my brothers and sisters. In general, Sundays have been a good plumb line for me in assessing this type of improvement. I could see how much more endurance I demonstrated this morning in my ability to stand and converse with friends before the service, rise at appropriate intervals in worship, and pray with my small group after the service.

I thank the Lord for physically renewing me in these ways, that I might be spiritually strengthened by the body. I thank him that the members do not all have the same function, but that each is gifted for particular service. And, seeing today the proper functioning of the parts of the body, I eagerly anticipate the building up of the whole body in love.

Strangers and Exiles

My approach to Scripture right now is to examine the prevailing emotion of the day and to submit it to the Word. I’m always a bit discomfited by my own surprise at Scripture’s ability to pierce and to discern (Hebrews 4:12). We think of ourselves as the exception and find ourselves to be the rule.

For today, I'm fighting a feeling akin to loneliness that is probably most accurately defined as a sense of exile. I am expelled from the native land of my heart and mind—desires, hopes, ambitions, pleasures, plans—and forced into a period of wandering and wondering. Hence I turn to Hebrews 11:

"These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city."

These men and women of faith who are being commended by the author of Hebrews acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles. They did not seek to disguise the fact or to remedy it in their own strength; in fact, the text seems to say that they could go back to their native lands. Yet they chose to remain in exile because they desired a new and better country. They chose exile because they trusted the one who was changing even their desires and the "home" that formed their identities.

When my old desires, hopes, ambitions and pleasures taunt me, it is helpful to me to remember that I am now seeking a homeland. Mine is a purposeful exile—though I did not choose it—and it is leading me to a heavenly country. Acknowledging that I am truly an exile is an important way that I can expose both the truth and the lie. The truth is that the Lord has sent me into this period of wandering; the lie, which is rehearsed in my mind almost hourly, is that I am “cut off from his sight.” In this way, I must talk to myself rather than listen (as Martin Lloyd Jones would say).

I also take this counsel from Hebrews 11: I must fight the temptation to think constantly of the country I left, lest I should turn back at the first opportunity. I must submit those old desires and dreams to the plans and promises of God—even if I only greet them from afar. He can be trusted to fulfill each and every one of his promises to me, and he is not confined by time or space in that fulfillment. In fact, of these exiles it is written, “Therefore, God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.”

A home. A homeland. A place where desires are pure and purely satisfied, where hope is seen, and where pleasures are eternal. You are an exile, Michele. Keep walking.

In the Valley

In the Valley by Bob Kauflin (as recorded on Valley of Vision)

When You lead me to the valley of vision
I can see You in the heights
And though my humbling wouldn’t be my decision
It’s here Your glory shines so bright
So let me learn that the cross precedes the crown
To be low is to be high
That the valley’s where You make me more like Christ

Let me find Your grace in the valley
Let me find Your life in my death
Let me find Your joy in my sorrow
Your wealth in my need
That You’re near with every breath
In the valley

In the daytime there are stars in the heavens
But they only shine at night
And the deeper that I go into darkness
The more I see their radiant light
So let me learn that my losses are my gain
To be broken is to heal
That the valley’s where Your power is revealed

© 2006 Sovereign Grace Praise (BMI).

Results

The results from my EMG today were completely normal. My protein factors are normal, which means that this is probably not a muscle disorder. We haven't yet seen anything to give a solid indication that something is wrong with my nerves (though my pain seems to act like nerve pain). The only abnormal numbers on my tests were my RH factor, which was 20.

The RH factor is a strong indicator of rheumatoid arthritis. I read somewhere online that, even with a factor of 20 (which is on the low side of the positive diagnostic spectrum), the patient has an 80% chance of having the disease. Yet there are a number of other autoimmune diseases, infections, and conditions that can cause false positives.

One of the primary treatments for rheumatoid arthritis is steroids which, as you know, I've been taking for nearly 4 weeks now. The fact that my condition has not responded to the steroids is of concern here, since it could mean the rheumatoid arthritis is a secondary condition or merely a symptom of something else.

I have already been on the phone with a number of rheumatologists, and the earliest I can get an appointment is for two weeks from today. As you can imagine, that is disheartening. But at least, for the first time in several weeks, there is a "next step." I, of course, use the word “step” quite gingerly…

Prayer Request

I almost forgot to mention that I go in for my next round of tests tomorrow morning at 8:30AM. Please pray that the doctor would have insight and skill as he conducts the tests.

Afflicted in Every Way, But...

"But we have this treasure in jars of clay, to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies. For we who live are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that the life of Jesus also may be manifested in our mortal flesh" (II Corinthians 4:7-12).

I feel afflicted in every way tonight. The coordinating conjunction that appears in the title to this post is added as an act of discipline and an assent to a truth that I don't feel. I have to ask myself, what does it mean that I am "not crushed." I feel utterly crushed. Where is my Christ? I must see him tonight.

[I could have ended the post here. I felt so desperate and forsaken even as I typed. What you can't see between these two brackets is just a period of sobbing before God-making anemic confessions to him about how I feel, even indulging in self-pity, and yet pleading that he reveal Christ's presence to me. He is faithful to meet us in our weakness.]

I'm reminded in the silence that Scripture uses the word "crushed" in both II Corinthians 4 and in Isaiah 53. Therefore, as I contemplate this truth that I am "not crushed," I remember one who was. "But he was wounded for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his stripes we are healed."

What does it mean that I am not crushed? It means that Christ was. I spent some time in the Servant Songs at Easter, and I read this commentary from John Piper on Isaiah 53:5-

"Now we start to get to the heart of the heart of God: it was the will of the Lord to crush him, NOT because of his own sins, but because of our sins. What God desired was that we not bear our own sins. Seven hundred years before Good Friday God announced why his Son was being put to death: to bear the sins of many—to take our place. Sins are not borne twice. God does not sentence his Servant and us to death for the same sins. If he bears them, we don't. And that is the glorious gospel of Jesus. He bore our sins."

God's heart desired that I not bear my own sins, and he willingly afflicted his own son in order that I might not be crushed. Even as I lie here tonight, sobbing in pain and fighting despair, I am not crushed. My sins are separated from me that I might not be separated from God. Because Christ was crushed, I am not--no matter what my affliction.

My heart is steadfast, O God. My heart is steadfast...

Spurgeon on Affliction

"It would be a very sharp and trying experience to me to think that I have an affliction which God never sent me, that the bitter cup was never filled by his hand, that my trials were never measured out by him, nor sent to me by his arrangement of their weight and quantity."

Darrel W. Amundsen, "The Anguish and Agonies of Charles Spurgeon," Christian History, Issue 29, Vol. X, No. 1, p. 25.

HT: EA

All Things Are Subservient

The Heidelberg Catechism gives me a fresh opportunity to reflect upon the profits of pain.

Question: What is thy only comfort in life and death?

Answer: That I with body and soul, both in life and death, am not my own, but belong unto my faithful Savior Jesus Christ; who, with his precious blood, has fully satisfied for all my sins, and delivered me from all the power of the devil; and so preserves me that without the will of my heavenly Father, not a hair can fall from my head; yea, that all things must be subservient to my salvation, and therefore, by his Holy Spirit, He also assures me of eternal life, and makes me sincerely willing and ready, henceforth, to live unto him.

My favorite phrase in this rich answer is "all things must be subservient to my salvation," because it shifts the onus of the activity from the pain itself to the purpose behind it. These momentary afflictions are achieving for me an eternal weight of glory!

So, it is in light of this truth that I ask myself, “What are my afflictions today?”

Yes, I am afflicted with physical pain. Yes, its tentacles have managed to invade almost every part of my life. But is this my deepest affliction?

The afflictions that I have felt almost as keenly as the pain today are these: despair, pride, self-pity, and anger. The pain with which I am currently dealing has this prescient manner of pinpointing those deep-rooted struggles in my life. It’s almost as though the pain is serving in this sanctification which is a part of my ultimate salvation. Do you hear the echo of the catechism? Or, more importantly, do you hear the reverberations of Scripture?

If you had asked me a month ago, I would have vigorously denied that I felt any pride in my physical appearance--in my body or the way I took care of it. I would have denied that I felt pride in my workaholism or in my tendency to “give, give, give” in relationships. I truly did not know that these things were my (false) righteousness; I did not know that I took comfort in them. But if you ask me these questions today, I will be forced to humbly give you a different account. For this fire is both revealing and refining. I am wounded that I may be healed.

A friend sent me this quotation today from Octavius Winslow's The Precious Things of God: "You will know more of Jesus in one sanctified trial than in wading through a library of volumes or in listening to a lifetime of sermons." Let it be, Lord! Let it be.

Trial, be sanctified. Soul, be comforted. All things are subservient to the salvation of those whom the Lord loves.

On Commutes, Steriods, and Bedtime Negotiations

I've waxed so philosophical with my last few updates that I have failed to give you any practical idea of how things are progressing for me.

On Friday, I started back to work full-time. On Monday, I actually returned to the office on a half-time basis. It is good to be on-site with my colleagues again, although it's alarming to discover how much even those familiar four walls have changed in the past month. The hallways, the parking lot—everything is so extensive and discrete now. The distance that I formerly spanned in less than a minute (3 inch heels notwithstanding) now takes 6. I laughed and told my boss that my commute from the parking lot to my desk takes 15 minutes. It's only funny because it's true!

I started my fourth and final week of steroids today. I cannot begin to describe how much I loathe those chalky white pills. For three weeks now, I have not been able either to fill my stomach or to taste my food, and the combination is decidedly unpleasant. My face and my body are suspiciously swollen now, and I avert my proportionally-shrinking eyes when I walk past the mirror in my bedroom. That mirror is not where my battles are now, but I'm so accustomed to fighting on that turf that I occasionally forget. The Lord is certainly teaching me new things about beauty in these days, so I try to pay as little attention as I can to those tattling pieces of glass. The lessons that the mirror can share are not important right now, even if they are true.

I will visit the doctor again on Friday for an EMG test, which will—at least—be less painful than a spinal tap! I won't venture to say exactly what we hope to learn from this test, but it seems as though it might evidence either a muscle or nerve conduction problem. The data could pinpoint a specific conduction problem, isolate a range of problems, or reveal nothing. Results should be available early next week.

My sleep is restless and fitful, but it does come now, and I am intensely grateful for that. But I guess that a few days’ worth of poor sleep is catching up with me, because I feel utterly exhausted tonight as I write. In fact, all the emails and phone calls that I’d hoped to complete will just have to wait. Neither my plans nor the belligerent assertions of my clock are going to dissuade me from believing that 7:30 PM is an appropriate bedtime.

I will leave you with a brief word of encouragement which the Lord brought to my mind tonight. As I was praying a few hours ago, I was reminded of the Lord’s kindness in the timing of my illness—kindness toward me and toward my beloved community. Though I noticed my “shin splints” less than a week after my best friend’s wedding, there was not one hint of physical pain to slow me down from my maid of honor duties or to mar anyone’s enjoyment of that precious event. This realization actually hadn’t occurred to me until now, and so I’m resting upon a fresh gratitude as I lay me down to sleep.

P.S.

For all my analysis of Romans 12 in the previous post, I didn't touch on the verse that says, "Never be wise in your own sight." As I'm studying back over the passage, I can't help but notice that glaring omission. Point taken.

Critical Mass?

So many of you, my dear friends, are writing or calling to tell me that I am being too severe with myself during this time--that I am demanding too much in the midst of the pain and uncertainty. In fact, if you'll pardon the pun, I began to feel today as though the sentiment was reaching critical mass.

There are ways in which I have been hard on myself all my life. I've been a perfectionist, an idealist, and a workaholic. In these overt and quantifiable ways, I have tended toward a works-based-righteousness and the inevitable condemnation that follows. Some of you have seen my long hours at work, my diligence at the gym, or the demands that I put upon myself in relationships and assumed that my deepest need is to show myself more grace.

But I have known my heart for a long time, dear friends. Where my emotional and spiritual condition is concerned, I have tended toward license and have used the disciplined lifestyle to hide the permissive soul. But, thanks be to God, that slavery to license was loosened in my heart about 1 1/2 years ago. Knowing the changes that God has worked in the intervening time, I can stand before you today and say with confidence that most of what you see in me now is the fruit of a changed desire—a desire for holiness. And the pursuit of holiness is no arbitrarily critical demand--like calories burned at the gym or hours worked overtime. This is categorically different from the condemnation under which I've lived most of my life. The standard is objective.

I don't want anyone to make excuses for me right now--I spend enough time combating the incessant, inadvertent excuses that I offer on my own behalf. I don't want you to justify my irritability or my selfishness, and I will--by the power of God's spirit--fight against the manifestation of these traits. Because we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another (Romans 12:5). My license is taken at your expense and it whispers to all who witness it that the cross is not adequate for this trial. No, I cannot give myself room for excuses when this is the message that might be conveyed. The standard is unchanged.

I'll back up a bit in Romans 12:

I appeal to you therefore, brothers, by the mercies of God, to present your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God, which is your spiritual worship. Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. For by the grace given to me I say to everyone among you not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think with sober judgment, each according to the measure of faith that God has assigned. For as in one body we have many members, and the members do not all have the same function, so we, though many, are one body in Christ, and individually members one of another.

I don't want to be a different person as a person in pain--unless the pain makes me a better person. During this time, I am tempted to think of myself more highly than I ought—as though my circumstances changed for me the requirements of a righteous life. But I will fight with the Word of God for the sober judgment mentioned above; I will not be conformed but will be transformed by the renewing of my mind; and the Lord will reveal to me what is good and acceptable and perfect. These truths are not changed by my circumstances.

I thank God that so many of you are invested in my life--so invested that you would take the time to challenge me and to share your concerns. May the Lord continue to reveal himself and his will to each of us, even as we "rejoice in hope, be patient in tribulation, and be constant in prayer."

Forsake Me Not

Psalm 71, Part II

“God has forsaken him; pursue and seize him, for there is none to deliver him” / "You who have made me to see trouble and calamities will revive me again."

Many people are watching me right now and, while they may not be uttering the words of the Psalmist's enemies, some of them probably believe that I am forsaken by the Lord or that I have no deliverer. There are those who fear that I have, somehow, either set myself or been set by God (or fate) upon a path of sure destruction. The Psalmist anticipates these attacks--both on his physical body and on God's character--and cries out to the only one who can save.

He asks the Lord to be his defense and then conceptualizes and affirms his own appropriate response, namely to hope, praise, and tell. This response is instructive to me when I feel my heart vascillating under the weight of others' beliefs about my condition--medical, emotional, or spiritual--or their resulting actions toward me. "And my tongue will talk of your righteous help all the day long, for they have been put to shame and disappointed who sought to do me hurt." I cry out to the Lord in faith and express that faith to others through hope-filled words that point beyond my condition and my pain to the God who has allowed it for my good.

Yet the danger posed by the opinions or actions of men is not the crucible in which the most arduous testing occurs. The same Psalmist who pleads for help against his external enemies makes an astounding statement when he exclaims, "You who have made me to see trouble and calamities will revive me again." The Psalmist indicates that my hardships are ultimately coming not from the hands of my enemies but from the hand of my God.

You who have made me to see trouble-this truth changes everything. It changes both the way that I cry and also the way that I cry out. My pastor used a medical metaphor this morning to explain how the law functions in the life of a Christian. I won't quote him perfectly, but I believe that he described the law as a "sharp scalpel in the hand of a skillful surgeon". Though it inflicts pain, it does so only to expose and cure sickness. I see my illness as functioning in a similar way. It is, first, revealing and then parsimoniously extracting deep-seated areas of unbelief in my heart.

This fact changes the nature of the danger that I face entirely (as I blogged about earlier this week). Danger, for me, is not located in a physical condition but in a faithless heart. Peril is not the absence of a vindicator but the presence of the wrong one. "Forsake me not when my strength is spent" is the cry of one in danger who knows his own need and does not rush to meet it in his own strength. This is my model.

What, then, is an appropriate response to such a severe mercy from the Lord? Lord willing, my response should be one of faith, characterized by confidence and hope. He will revive me again. Will my life look exactly like it did before? Will my body look like it did before? These questions are not answered for me by the Psalm, but they are rendered penultimate by the knowledge that the Lord will bring me up again, even from the depths of the earth. The one who created my life and my body is welcome to recreate it; in fact, he has already promised to do so in the image of His Son, Jesus Christ!

Remember Christ upon the cross and burdens upon believing shoulders, and know that the Lord does not forsake His own.