I’ve been pondering. Have I already survived the worst I’ll ever have to face; and/or, is it possible to choose to live as if the worst is now in the past?

 

This is a fallen world; no doubt about it. Bad things have happened, are happening, and will continue to happen.

 

Someone told me last week that the hardest thing she learned, following her first husband’s early death in a freak-accident, was that it didn’t make her immune from other bad things happening.

 

If there’s an upside to being blindsided, it has been experiencing firsthand that, while grief is undeniably awful; God is always with me and always takes care of me. Always.

 

Sometimes bad things happen as a result of my bad choices, but sometimes they don’t. And then sometimes, bad things happen even when I’ve made good choices. Those times are harder to sort through.

 

As evening came, Jesus said to his disciples,

 

“Let’s cross to the other side of the lake.”  

 

So they took Jesus in the boat and started out,

 

leaving the crowds behind

 

(although other boats followed).

 

But soon a fierce storm came up.

 

High waves were breaking into the boat,

 

and it began to fill with water.

 

Jesus was sleeping at the back of the boat

 

with his head on a cushion.

 

The disciples woke him up, shouting,

 

“Teacher, don’t you care that we’re going to drown?”

 

When Jesus woke up,

 

he rebuked the wind and said to the waves,

 

“Silence! Be still!”

 

Suddenly the wind stopped,

 

and there was a great calm.

 

Then he asked them,

 

“Why are you afraid?

 

Do you still have no faith?”

Mark 4:35-40

 

If the fierce storm had roared in to punish them for some defiant disobedience, it would seem fairer; but they were right where they were supposed to be and doing exactly what Jesus had told them to do.

 

Jesus response: “Do you still have no faith” makes me think he’s comparing two different times: life before they knew him and life after. He was God immortal in their midst—doing miracles right and left—a defining pivotal point in their lives. He. Was. The. Point.  And the worst they could ever face—the life when they didn’t know him—was behind them.

 

Praise be to God, I know the very same Jesus.

 

 

I have told you all this

 

so that you may have peace in me.

 

Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows.

 

But take heart,

 

because I have overcome the world.”

John 16:33

 

I hear God better in the early morning hours so I usually get up whenever I awaken. The other morning found me in the kitchen at 4:30—early even by my own standards—brewing a latte. It feeds my spirit and soul to hold the warmth of the coffee and breathe in the word of God before anything else from the coming day distracts me.

 

Criss-cross is one of my favorite concepts; and God uses it like a yellow highlighter showing me important stuff. By 6:30 that particular morning, I’d completed a number of things: read my Bible; wrote notes to God; emailed, blogged and posted my daily Scripture on the Go; scanned through my Facebook feed and read a devotional; read an email devotional; and read the prior day’s entry in “Streams in the Desert”.

 

The first criss of the morning told me that Jeremiah 29:11 doesn’t mean what most people think: that suffering will soon end and then be replaced by flourishing. Instead, it told me that the heart of the verse isn’t about escaping my situation, but rather about learning to thrive in the middle of it.

 

Just to know—there’s no way to suspect anything’s going to be highlighted until you receive the second criss—and it crosses with the first—and forms the criss-cross.

 

That particular morning had a second criss; and it said that God has a purpose for all the seasons of my life—the lonely ones, the sad ones, the successful ones, the waiting ones and the grieving one. It told me that he’s working for my good in all those times; and then it said a hard, but very good immovable thing—that nothing comes into my life that hasn’t been filtered through him first. He’s never been surprised—so don’t even ever think you’ve done anything bad enough to accomplish that.

 

It’s uncommon for me to receive a third criss—which practically forms an asterisk—and particularly uncommon before 6:30 am, but I did.

 

This one said that I’m to honor the Lord in the trial; and then said the really hard part: that I’m to believe that God will raise something out of the fire that’s more worthy of praise than had I never experienced it.

 

To be perfectly honest, there’ve been things in my life that I never would have chosen—regardless, I suppose, of the growth and maturity that have come from them. But that’s different from being angry with God for what has come; and it’s possible to be triumphant in what I’ve not chosen.

 

The Lord had my attention—three crisses before 6:30 am will accomplish that; but later that same morning I actually started laughing and talking aloud to myself when he sent a fourth one at 11:00 am. (I looked at the clock to note the time)

 

I was driving alone in my car, and listening to an audio sermon, when I heard words saying God’s character always forms a knowing and loving wall around me; and nothing can reach me—nothing can get through that wisdom or love that he hasn’t first filtered through his omniscience.

 

And the asterisk just exploded into a star.

 

For I know the plans I have for you,”

 

says the LORD.

 

“They are plans for good and not for disaster,

 

to give you a future and a hope.

Jeremiah 29:11

 

And we know that God

 

causes everything to work together

 

for the good of those who love God

 

and are called according to his purpose for them.

Romans 8:28

(plain old brown leaf floating down a muddy stream,

BUT it caught the light just right)

 

Yesterday my cousins brought their mom, my soon-to-be 90-yr-old Aunt Doris, from out of town to visit. Seventeen of us met for a hugs and laughter-filled buffet lunch; and some followed up later at my house for sweet potato pie—a definite Collier-cousin favorite.

 

Doris and I waited alone for a few minutes, with my new grandson, while everyone else filled up plates at the buffet. She startled and delighted me when she grinned and announced across the table, “I’m about to turn 90—so now I’m ready to die”! There was absolutely nothing morbid or worrisome in her words—just a joyful anticipation of the next great adventure. I grinned right back, but didn’t speak my thoughts: “I get it! I so totally get it!”

 

My professional mental health background nearly always stops me from saying, “I know exactly what you mean”, but it can’t stop me from thinking it.

 

Our heavenly-bent conversation continued when more of our group returned to the table with their food. Instead of a 90^th birthday party, Doris has always wanted to stay overnight at a bed and breakfast. So her daughters, Patsy and Sharon, have made special reservations for later this month; but evidently what Doris told me isn’t a secret. Because Patsy said that Sharon told their mom that they’d gone to a lot of trouble setting up this bed and breakfast thing, so please don’t die before April 25^th. If she feels she needs to go after her birthday—well okay, but please don’t leave till then.

 

And we laughed and laughed.

 

Later that day I told my daughter about the lunch conversation we’d had at our end of the long table. April, mom of two small children, somberly said that she hopes—when she’s old and has lived out her life—she’ll feel the same way.

 

I didn’t speak my thoughts: “You will, Sissy—someday you’ll get that completely”.

 

Years ago when I was a young woman, Dan’s mom told me that she was homesick for heaven; and I didn’t get it. Then one day, somewhere along the years of my own life, I got it. It’s not hard to understand a strong desire for heaven.

 

But till then, as Paul said, we have work to do here:

 

 

I trust that my life will bring honor to Christ,

 

whether I live or die.

 

For to me, living means living for Christ,

 

and dying is even better.

 

But if I live,

 

I can do more fruitful work for Christ.

 

So I really don’t know which is better.

 

I’m torn between two desires:

 

I long to go and be with Christ,

 

which would be far better for me.

 

But for your sakes,

 

it is better that I continue to live.

Philippians 1: 20-23