During the war, Hans' mother's faith was severely tested. Not by the soldiers but by God. Living in Holland, in Nazi occupied lands, God would ask Theresa to do extravagant things for the family of Jews who were hiding in her house. At one point he asked her to buy a bassinet for their coming child with all of the food rations that Weerstra's possessed. But how would they eat? She was feeding her own family of 10 plus her visitors which were 5 or 6 as well. Nonetheless, she obeyed. Having stuffed her stomach with pillows to pretend pregnancy, she crossed the soldier occupied ford and bought the baby bed. My question to her one day was, doesn't God know that there is a war going on? Apparently that didn't matter to God. He wanted the baby to have a decent bed. God is extravagant at times. Extravagant in his lessons and thoughtful in their delivery. He has planned out everything in advance.
Here in my life as well.
I found myself restless yesterday, though we had done many things during the day. We packed the kids and a lunch and went to the cemetery to check the flowers and water the grass over our piece of property. During the day I checked my mail, answering emails and then Facebook, making responses and comments. But by five o"clock, the checking had become compulsive. What was I doing??? I questioned myself. Slowly I realized that I was looking for life. Life to replace the life I had lost. Part of me had died on April 25, 2011 and I needed to replace the missing limb with life. My wound was severe.
Suddenly before me appeared Mary and Martha again. In their living room I saw many Jews from the neighboring village of Bethany. They were saying comforting things loving these two young women in an attempt to comfort them. And though they spoke the truth, brought food, and provided companionship, nothing could erase the bitter pain of separation. And so my friends did as well. So many incredible comments and acts of kindness have been showered upon us—Judy and Julianne. But as modern Marthas and Marys, our pain continued.
It wasn't until Jesus personally came into the scene that they experienced their first relief. At first, there was only chastisement, "If only You had come..." I have done the same thing for several days now—lamenting and complaining, asking Why? Why? Why not? Yesterday to my God I also told Him of my broken heart. But there was no answer, and the Comforter, to whom I also appealed, was off on holiday. I was not going to be comforted today.
It wasn't until Jesus spoke, "I am the Resurrection and the Life" that things began to change for the sisters. "Here Jesus opened my eyes to see that I would not find life on facebook, in visitors, in the kind words of the saints, I would not even find it in Him, as He walks with me everyday and His presence is tangibly felt. No, I would only find it in the words of life.
Arrgh...my flesh recoiled. I would have to work out my healing with the Word of God? The only way He was going to restore my severed limb and chase away the shadow of death was through a penetrated and focused application of His word. Until this happened, my heart would continue to be a piece of braised meat. I was reminded instantly of the first words of creation, "And God said, "Let us fashion a man..." In essence I was asking God to once again fashion a man, to replace and recreate the part of my heart that had died. A task no less than the fashioning of the first man, Adam. And He would do this through His spoken word again.
But doesn't He know there is a war going on? I am caught between a rock and a hard place. I am so weak, that to open the Scriptures is hard work— waiting, praying, and most of all, focusing on something other than myself, my pain. It the hard work of the saints and the pleasure of God, to overcome my enemies, but always in the most unconventional of ways.
So I opened the book and stared down. What word? Where? Direct my feet O Lord. As you have done so many times. Here I go again— one foot in front of the other.
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