Devotional Archives--Safety

May 9, 2005 —

Waves

The fragrance of plumeria clinging to the breeze is one of my favorite memories of Hawaii. Several years ago, thanks to the generosity of family, we spent two weeks in this island paradise. For years afterward, May brought a longing to see the ocean.

I craved its vast expanse and the blue of the sky as it reached down to disappear into the ocean, fading into gray-white in the distance. In fact, a few Mother’s Days back, my daughter, ever the thoughtful, creative one, made Hawaii in our backyard for my Mother’s Day gift, complete with sand, water, and flowers.

But our dream vacation bordered on disaster. Before packing for the flight home, my husband and I decided to snorkel one last time. He’d seen a sea turtle and, in hopes of seeing it again, we walked past the protected bay to a rockier piece of the shoreline.

We donned fins and snorkels and began to swim around a point, looking for the creature. As we swam further out, the waves became harsh and I  panicked. Though I am a good swimmer, my skills were no match for the raw power of the ocean.

I remember thinking that God had given me a marvelous opportunity to experience the magnificence of His creation. I didn’t want to spoil it by unwarranted fear. Determined not to overreact, I prayed for peace, put my head back under the water, and gave into the quiet beneath the waves. I had little idea at that moment of the very real danger I was in.

As we rounded the tip of the point, my husband, focused on getting us to safety without scaring me, told me he thought we should cut straight to the bank. We moved slowly that direction, fighting waves, rocks, and coral. Suddenly, I felt myself swept under. I somersaulted beneath the ocean, rolled by its force.

But, I didn’t feel a bit of fear. Cocooned in the peace that surrounded me after my earlier prayer I simply went limp in the quiet deep of the water and didn’t fight what was happening to me.

At that moment a strong hand grasped the back of my swimsuit and pulled me to the surface. I came out of the water, gulping air, and saw a frightened, but intensely relieved husband. He was bleeding all the way down one side. To get the leverage he needed to pull me out of the undertow, he’d grabbed a coral reef, which gouged and scraped his skin. People on the shore yelled to us, pointing the safest way off the treacherous point.

Though my husband wrenched his back, spent the remainder of our vacation at the chiropractor, and had a painful flight home, our would-be tragedy was averted. I wasn’t swept out to sea, drowned by the powerful undertow.

I was safe.

I’ve often wondered what would have happened had I panicked when the force of the ocean plucked me from my husband’s side. I don’t think he would’ve had the strength to fight both the ocean and me if I had offered the least resistance. At that crucial moment I just rested, filled with a peace that could only have come from God.

Since that time, life has thrust me into many fearful situations. The waves of doubt and wild fear have threatened to overtake me. The problems have been much bigger and more powerful than I. The temptation to panic has been fierce.

But, the good Lord has been teaching me to go into the depth of His quiet—to quit fighting and flailing about and just rest in His arms. In these times I know that is in not my own skill that will navigate the stormy waters, but His. I seek to go to that sacred place with Him and just wait for His strong arm to rescue me.

Dear friend, I don’t think there could be a better Mother’s Day gift I could give you than the confidence that you are precious in the sight of God and that He is fighting for you. Rest today in His quiet place. Quit flailing about in fear. Just go limp in His arms. He is faithful.

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May 16, 2005 —

Holding Hands

Anticipating our trip to Hawaii, one thing haunted me. I longed to see brilliant colored sea life in its natural habitat, but had long possessed a fear of fish. I didn’t like to be close to them, whether they were in a tank or a lake.

As a child, I overcame my fear enough to swim in the creeks with my brother, who threw huge rocks into the water to scare the fish away. While we both knew it didn’t clear the area, the act somehow gave me courage. But this was Hawaii. How could I pretend there were no fish if part of the goal included seeking them out?

When our first snorkeling opportunity came I rented my equipment with the rest of the family. We spent a glorious day at Hanauma Bay. I waded into the water, decked in the gear, but the fish, used to being fed by tourists, were almost like dogs. The large finned creatures patrolled the shoreline, swimming toward me for a hand out. I retreated, unable to cross their line.

On the shore, the babies and I played in the sand while my older children swam out to the reef, secure as they held the hand of their dad or a grandparent. Any of those same adults would have taken my hand and helped me navigate past the scary shoreline guard, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

Disappointment gnawed at me. Surely God wanted me to enjoy His amazing creation. I knew I might never again have an opportunity like this and asked God to overcome my unfounded fears. Then I gave my husband, Jerry, permission to help me face them.

A few days later I had another chance to snorkel. This bay had no finned patrol and I determined to enter the underwater world. My husband and I waded into the ocean and swam, faces beneath the surface.

It wasn’t long before a bright yellow fish darted past my facemask. I recoiled, trying to jerk away, but my husband held me firm. I’ll never forget the calm strength he exuded. I felt protected as he helped me look the fish in the face. Exuberance bubbled. I’d experienced the world I’d feared and found it to be a safe and exciting place.

Toward the end of our trip, my husband hurt his back and could no longer swim. We had some shots left on our underwater disposable camera and Jerry suggested I snorkel, by myself, to take the remaining pictures. When I hesitated he assured me I could do it.

As I slipped into the ocean, he stood on the shore and encouraged me. He beamed when I actually chased after the fish, braving their close proximity in my efforts to capture them on film.

There are times the Father asks us to brave something we fear. Sometimes He leads us to take risks or to face change. But He never pushes us into those unknown waters all alone.

He eases us in, holding our hand the whole time. When we panic and start to pull back, his steady confidence keeps us swimming. As we gain courage, He lets us swim without clinging to Him. He must enjoy those moment when we venture into once scary territory without trembling. I can see Him standing close by, applauding.

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May 23, 2005 —

Our Safe Place

Has the Lord ever asked you to re-enter a deep place of pain? Sometimes He asks us to re-live hurtful experiences so He can heal them. In my life, He’s allowed me to walk through situations similar to something that hurt me in the past. As I face the new hurt, an old wound is exposed so that I can discover it. Has that ever happened to you?

In these times of self-discovery, God is our safe place.

When God probes the wounded places inside of us, He gives us the opportunity to look them straight in the eye and grieve them. Usually these times also require that we forgive someone who has hurt us. Almost always there is a lie we have unknowingly believed that needs to be uprooted.

In my life, some of these probing times have happened in the context of sharing with a trusted friend or spiritual mentor. Others have just been God and me behind a closed door, hashing it out. Three come to mind quickly. In each instance, God first took me to a place of deep grief. I needed to look at the wound honestly, feel it again for a time, before it could be dealt with.

Usually the grief process culminated in gut wrenching, groaning sobs. They started somewhere deep inside of me and worked their way out of me in waves. It felt like I was birthing pain. But, once it was birthed, it was out. It didn’t live inside of me anymore. Calm followed.

In each instance in my experience, there was also someone in particular I needed to let off the hook for his or her part in my pain. After I faced the pain, I had to forgive it.

I have a prayer I’ve memorized that helps me in times like this: Lord, __________ really hurt me when he/she did ________. He/she has made me feel_____________ (fill in every description you can think of). But I choose to forgive_____________ and ask you to bless him/her.

After I forgive, a weight lifts off of me. Sometimes the hurtful incident will come to mind at a later date. When it does, I go back to this simple prayer. There are also times someone I’ve forgiven will hurt me again.

I’m learning to quickly face the hurt that was inflicted, feel it’s pain, and forgive it. The longer I ignore the hurt, the more opportunity it has to fester and cause me greater woundedness.

In my experience, the third step of times of God’s probing includes Him uprooting a lie. Most of us who have wounds that have been around for a while have believed something this isn’t true because of the painful experience. Usually, the lie directly relates to how we see God or His ability to care for us. When we look to humans to meet our needs and they fail us, we come to believe that God will fail us as well.

The lies we believe are often related to that phrase of the prayer that says, “He/she made me feel____________.” If you can pinpoint the emotion in your hurts, you can often discover the lie connected to it.

If you felt unloved, for example, you may unknowingly believe that nobody will ever REALLY love you. If you felt inadequate, you might believe you never measure up to God’s standards. If you felt guilty, you may struggle with believing God truly forgave you when you asked Him to.

Sometimes, God revealed the lie I’d believe in one quick experience. He pinpointed it in my heart and dug it out with one great jerk of His hand. Other times the lie came out bit by bit, over time, but always as the lie disappeared He replaced it with His truth.

Almost always, the lie goes against a truth about God’s character and the relationship He gives us. He exposes those lies so we can replace them with the truth of His Word and character. He fills those holes in our soul, where our needs weren’t met, with the fullness of His love, desire, and ability to meet those needs.

As you identify the lies you’ve sub-consciously believed, I’d encourage you to search God’s word for a verse that gives the truth that counteracts the lie. For me, the fourth step of these healing times with God often involved renewing my mind with a specific verse from His Word.

I memorize the verse, print it on a card, tape it on the bathroom mirror, or put it in my Bible. When I am tempted to believe the falsehood again, I reject the lie and repeat God’s truth. Over time, my life becomes grounded in the truth God gives me instead of the old lies that controlled me.

It can be scary to enter old wounds. The enemy of our soul wants us to fear them. He doesn’t want us to be healed from the past. He wants the foundation of our lives to be built on his lies instead of the Father’s truth.

Sometimes the healing process can cause sleeplessness or nightmares. Sometimes we have a vague sense of fear that we can’t shake, but we have this truth to hold on to: “But you, O LORD, are a shield about me, my glory, and the one who lifts my head high. I cried out to the LORD, and he answered me from his holy mountain. I lay down and slept. I awoke in safety, for the LORD was watching over me.” (Psalm 3:3-5 NLT)

When God calls you to enter the pain of your past, remember that the Lord is your safe place. He will lift your head and be your glory. When the pain causes you to cry in agony, He is holding you. He never leaves you alone to fight the ghosts, but always walks into the scary place with you. You can sleep in peace for He is watching over you. The bubble of His protection is around you in these times, for God is our safe place.

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May 30, 2005 —

Safe From Self

God the Father has his eye on each of you, and has determined by the work of the Spirit to keep you obedient through the sacrifice of Jesus.  I Peter 1:2a (The Message)

Don’t you hate it when your plans get turned upside down? This happened to me on Wednesday. Due to a communication snafu, three families were inconvenienced and I was in charge! Tense, I tried to fix the problem and make things run as smoothly as possible. As it turned out, thanks to the hospitality of a friend, the event was salvaged. What I didn’t know is that God had a gift for me in the midst of the confusion. Because of the change in location, I had the opportunity to read from a book my friend owns, called Extravagant Grace. I was blessed by a devotional in it by Marilyn Meberg.

Marilyn quoted Thomas Kempis who said, "In the cross there is safety."

Perhaps when you hear that quote you think, as I did, that the safety of the cross means we are forgiven, showered with the love and relationship of the Father, and promised eternity. Maybe you take it a step further, as Marilyn did, and realize that the cross frees you from the condemnation of the law and the pressure to live a perfect life. But, it was this concept that stopped me in my tracks: Marilyn wrote that the cross keeps us safe from ourselves.

Oh, how I want to be safe from myself. I know I am totally capable of repeatedly blowing it. In my humanity, I am often drawn to sin. Sometimes, I don’t think about God or pursue relationship with Him as I would like. It’s scary to think how easily I can make a mess of my life. Do you ever struggle like this?

Thanks to the cross of Christ, we can live our lives without fear of ourselves. God’s word promises that He disciplines those He loves. It tells us we will suffer trials that will shape us to better glorify Him. It says He won’t give up on us, but that He’ll finish the work He started—and it promises that the Holy Spirit lives inside of us, giving us a desire to obey God and empowering us to follow His will.

We all know stories (or have lived them!) of Christians who’ve blown it and turned, for a time, from God’s ways. Later, they return to God, more humble, often broken, and full of examples of the loving discipline of the Father. God does call us to holy living. When we stray there are consequences and pain. But the good news is that God never lets us go. He’s committed to our righteousness.

This morning I read about King David, who made a royal mess of things with Bathesheba. He had an affair with her and saw to it that her husband, Uriah, was placed on the front lines of battle where he died. If I were God I’d been tempted to take David’s throne away. Instead God disciplined David. There was grief and consequences of sin, but God used these to bring David’s heart back into relationship with Him. God’s plans were established through David, from whose lineage came Christ.

Our loving Father doesn’t sit idly by and allow us to stray from Him. He intervenes and draws us back to Himself. Jesus’ blood signed a contract in which God promised to be fully devoted to us. He makes us safe from ourselves.

You call out to God for help and he helps--he's a good Father that way. But don't forget, he's also a responsible Father, and won't let you get by with sloppy living. Your life is a journey you must travel with a deep consciousness of God. I Peter 1:17 (The Message)

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June 6, 2005 —

Safety As We Weep

The speaker at a recent conference told of African women who’d survived tribal wars, death of family, genocide, displacement, and hunger. I fought tears. Each year at this conference I brace myself for the inevitable stories of pain I will hear. On a few occasions I’ve wanted to escape what I knew was coming. I simply didn’t want to feel my heart breaking again. Fear of suffering made me want to run.

There are times I’ve felt this way with friends and acquaintances, too. It can be exhausting to enter the pain of others. But often, that’s exactly what God wants us to do.

What is it about suffering that scares us so? Are those intimately acquainted with deep suffering less afraid or more?

Recently, God placed it upon my heart to enter into the stories of dear people who’ve suffered much. I don’t like learning about the horrors of this world. It hurts me to talk with my friend, Darrell, from the Red Lake Reservation who ministers to the traumatized youth who watched their teacher, a security guard, and five of their friends shot to death before witnessing the suicide of the assassin.

I ache as a woman I met at the conference shares stories of the hungry, abandoned children all over the world, of the orphanages that are too full to help them, and of the lack of love and sustenance in their lives.

A few years ago I met Bruce, a man who preached the funeral for one of the Columbine martyrs. God has called him into a ministry of weeping with those who weep. He went to Russia, crying and praying with the victims of the school were children were taunted, tortured, and killed. He was a chaplain at ground zero and has wept with those who’ve lost loved ones in Israel due to terrorist bombs.

Most recently, this man traveled to Red Lake to enter into the suffering of the Ojibwe people after the March 21st shooting. After hearing his stories I am again left broken. One time I asked him, “how do you do it?”

His blue eyes pierced my soul. He held my gaze before quietly replying, “Only by grace, Paula. Only by grace.” I later told my husband that for a moment I felt as if I were looking into the eyes of Jesus.

Our compassionate Lord is asking us to be willing to enter into the suffering of others. The Bible tells us to weep with those who weep and mourn with those who mourn. Too often we tune out the suffering of our brothers and sisters throughout the world. We don’t want to feel their pain. We want to pretend that this is heaven and that such horror stories don’t exist.

But that isn’t God’s way. He never turns His back on the suffering of His children. He asks us to be His hands and feet to a hurting world.

But for me, the question remains. How do it do it? I know I’ve already been given the answer: Only by grace. Only by living fully in the arms of God, our safe place.

By His grace may we live in our safe place, Jesus Christ, so that we can be His loving hands and feet to a world that offers no safety.

Surrounded by His grace may we move as He calls us to, allowing our hearts to be broken as His is broken by the suffering of our brothers.

By His grace may we face pain and enter into it, knowing He holds our heart in His hands and will keep it safe.

Living in grace may we continually return to the joy and wonder of His love, empowered by His strength, even as we enter His heart of suffering.

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