Category: Trust

A Father’s Day We’ll Never Forget

Posted on by Dorci

And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Matthew 28:20b

It was Sunday morning, Father’s Day.  I woke up with plans of hearing a good message at church, and then spending some precious family time together, grilling, maybe watching a movie.  Just relaxing.  But that day would soon be anything but relaxing. 

My husband was already up, and a minute or two after I’d gotten up he looked at me with a slight grin and told me our son hadn’t come home.  He’d left the night before, presumably to hang out with some friends.  One particular friend came to mind and I figured he’d gone there and just decided to stay the night.  He’d probably be home any minute. 

My husband began texting him, and we waited.  He texted again.  Still nothing. 

“Forget the texting.” I said, and I made a mad dash to my phone and started to punch in the number, but my husband was already calling.  He finally answered, and the side of the conversation I heard I didn’t like. 

“Where are you?” my husband said.

He suddenly had a confused look on his face. “What’s around you?”

Panic started to form a lump in my throat. 

A few more minutes of their back and forth and I couldn’t stand it anymore.  I pleaded to talk with him.  I asked him all the same questions.  “Where are you?  What do you mean you don’t know where you are?  Are you still driving?”

“Yes.”

We lost our phone connection.  I couldn’t imagine where he was or how he’d gotten there.  And the scariest thing was, neither could he. 

I finally got him on the phone again.  He thought he was on his way to a certain town.  That couldn’t be.  It was so far away.  He kept saying his face hurt.  His phone cut out again. 

We looked at each other and wondered out loud if he really could be on a road so far away from home.  And why did his face hurt? 

After another 20 minutes or so of 30-second conversations between being cut off, he said he was passing a sign with the name of the town he was entering.  Yes, he really had been headed in that direction, away from home. 

He said he was almost out of gas and we were sure his phone was ready to die.  He said he was pulling into a gas station to fill up.  I prayed with him and told him to stay there. We were coming to get him. 

He said he just wanted to get back on the road and come home.  His face hurt. 

I knew I’d have to call on my “mom voice” and demand that he stay put. 

“Are you on the road?” I said.

“Yes. I just want to come home.”

“Turn around and park and stay there!  We are on our way.”

The tone and decibel level of my voice told him I meant business.  He turned around and parked in a parking lot by a certain restaurant and that gave my husband just enough information to know where he was. 

We both ran around the house grabbing ice, water, ibuprofen.  I asked friends to be praying for us.  And in minutes we were in the car driving the almost two-hour trip out of town to get our son.  The trip was taking too long.  I had to remind myself to breathe. 

We finally got there, searched the parking lot for a minute and spotted his car.  All three of us hugged.  His face was scraped up and a corner of his tooth had been left on a sidewalk somewhere, but he was okay.  We took him to the emergency room around the corner to have him checked out.  His CT scan came back fine, but we figured he must have had a slight concussion. 

When we got back home my husband was able to map out his route with the few landmarks he could remember, which included a dirt road, cows and an Indian reservation. 

The worst part of looking at that map was knowing that in order for him to get where he was, he had to have taken the road we took–a road that for miles and miles wound around some mountains and had plenty of drop-offs.  Even when we showed him the route he must have taken, he still didn’t remember. 

It was nothing short of a miracle that he had made that three-hour drive.  Many miracles, in fact. A miracle he didn’t get into an accident.  A miracle he didn’t fall asleep. A miracle he didn’t run out of gas.  A miracle his phone didn’t die.  A miracle he didn’t drive off the side of a mountain.

His tooth was fixed and his face is healing well.  He had been goofing around with a friend, jumped on his back and they both fell onto the sidewalk. He apparently cushioned his friend’s blow. 

Course we had to ask him if he stopped along the way to go cow-tipping.  We got a bit of a grin out of him. 

My prayers for the next week or two consisted mainly of two words—“Thank you.”  I knew we’d been gifted with a great deal of grace that day.  The day wasn’t relaxing, we missed church and there was no movie.  But we had the best Father’s Day we could have.  We’d been given the gift of more time with our son.  So much better than any old tie. 

We don’t always have such a dramatic reminder of God’s constant presence, but He’s there just the same.  No matter where we go or what we do, He’s with us.  And even when we don’t know where we are, He does, and He’s there.

Always.

 

Is Your Anchor Secure?

Posted on by Dorci

I asked the Lord one day how He can stand it.  How can He know all the pain and suffering that goes on in the hearts of men, women and children every minute of every day and not be overcome with grief?

He spoke to my heart and said, “Because I have hope.”

I had to think about that one for a bit. What does God need with hope?  He knows all things.  But the kind of hope God has is not the wishing kind. 

It’s not a verb, as in “I hope this or that will happen…”

It’s a noun.  It’s a sure thing.  An expectation.  A confidence.  And the object of our hope is nothing less than God Himself.

As I write this, Oklahoma is being slammed with a second round of deadly tornadoes.  New mystery viruses are killing people and doctors don’t know what to do about it.  Abuses such as slavery and pornography abound and the news seems to grow darker every day.

And a bit closer to home, I know three people who are currently battling cancer.  I see people struggling in their walk with Christ.  And I have a daily battle going on in my own mind with health issues that keep trying to take my attention away from what’s important.

No one gets through life without experiencing at least a few storms.  Waves of trials come crashing into our lives and it can feel like we barely have a chance to take another breath before we feel the sting of another. We feel tossed around emotionally and spiritually in the violent winds and waves and there are moments we can feel like the whole thing is going to capsize.  

But we’ve been given an anchor to still us.

When God made his promise to Abraham, since there was no one greater for him to swear by, he swore by himself, saying, “I will surely bless you and give you many descendants.” And so after waiting patiently, Abraham received what was promised. People swear by someone greater than themselves, and the oath confirms what is said and puts an end to all argument. Because God wanted to make the unchanging nature of his purpose very clear to the heirs of what was promised, He confirmed it with an oath. God did this so that, by two unchangeable things in which it is impossible for God to lie, we who have fled to take hold of the hope set before us may be greatly encouraged. We have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure.” Hebrews 6:16-19

The world puts its hope in things like health, finances, children, a spouse, friends.  And there are religious doctrines that will tell you God wants our lives to be perfect, that He wants us to put our hope in those things.  I’m not sure how anyone can read the accounts of Abraham or Job or Joseph or Paul or even Jesus and come to that conclusion.

No, God wants us to know that no matter what happens He is our hope. So He swore by Himself–because He cannot lie–to prove that His promises are true.  But we may have to weather a few storms first.

Hope in God is what anchors us in those storms. 

Intead of being overcome, hope is what keeps us still and grounded, focused on God instead of thunder and lightning and our wet feet. 

And the more we know who God is—that He is a God Who never changes, that He is Who He says He is, and does what He says He’ll do, and that He loves us beyond comprehension and wants for us His absolute best—the more heavy with hope we’ll become. 

Sometimes it’s in the middle of the storm we’re tempted to panic and let go of hope. But that’s when we need to hold on the tightest. 

God has hope because He knows the plans He has for us.  He knows He’s in the boat with us and He maintains control of the storm at all times.  He knows that if we’ll just hold onto Him, at the end of our storms we’ll be children of God who will shine pure as gold, who will more and more reflect the beauty of His Son.

And we can have hope that this life is not all there is.  That there is another one waiting for us.  One where all our hopes and dreams will be fulfilled.  One where our joy is never again interrupted by pain or sorrow or suffering.  The hope of living with Jesus in paradise.

The storms may not abate, not for a while at least, but we can be confident in the One Who has power over them, and us.

With great hope,

 

 
I know, I know, you’re asking yourself, “How can I never miss God Treasure again?”  I’m so glad you asked!  Just enter your email in the box under the welcome message to the right.  Don’t worry, I don’t spam, message or pass the hat.  God bless!

Photo attribution:
Image credit: fergregory / 123RF Stock Photo

My Redeemer Lives

Posted on by Dorci

I’ve been a believer in Christ almost half my life (maybe more, but that’s a story for another day).  I’ve lived this Christian life so long that I can sometimes forget all that Christ has saved me from.

But once in a while God gives me a reminder, a little glimpse into what my life could have been like had I kept walking the path I was on.  I very well could have died in my sins.  Lost forever. 

But my Redeemer lives.

For I know that my Redeemer lives, and He shall stand at last on the earth; and after my skin is destroyed, this I know, that in my flesh I shall see God, Whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. How my heart yearns within me!”  Job 19:25-27

Even Job, who lived centuries prior to Christ’s incarnation, because of his intimate relationship with God knew he had a Redeemer.  While he sat utterly destitute and broken by the tornado of suffering he suddenly faced, he held onto hope that he would be saved, even if not until he passed on from this life.  He knew His Redeemer would reign victorious at the end of all things and that He would be raised with Him and see his Redeemer face to face. 

God did save Job and restored his life.  And I have no doubt that Job’s faith carried him home to see the face he so longed to see, where all suffering melted away.

God’s saved me from more than I have time to tell you here.  And no matter what struggles I go through as a believer, it’s nothing compared to living this life without Jesus, without the hope of salvation. 

He’s redeemed my soul from the pit.  He’s saved me from destroying myself. He’s rescued me from destructive relationships and from wandering the earth in a state of spiritual blindness. 

He’s given me sight to see Him and ears to hear Him.  He’s changing my heart from hardened stone to pure, soft flesh. He’s blessed me in ways that before I would have thought impossible. And He’s filled me with His Spirit to give me  the hope of salvation and that one day I, too, will see my Redeemer face to face. 

From what has your Redeemer saved you?

Grace and peace!

The Rescue

Posted on by Dorci

I walked through his apartment in a daze, sifting methodically through his keepsakes, his memories, his life, trying to decide what I dared throw away, what I gave away and what I kept.  I was on a time crunch and for the most part I resisted leaning back to read the slew of papers left everywhere with his private thoughts, his struggles, his journey.

But sometimes the words called out to me from the pages and I gave in.  Faces from black and white Polaroids stared at me and I stared back, wondering just who they were.  How had my dad known them?

As I made my way around his bedroom, I looked up and there in a relatively dark corner was a survivor, a cutting from a Pothos.  A rescue with one or two small leaves in a clay pot.

My dad liked to rescue plants.  He was always taking cuttings from plants and giving them a fresh start.  I think in his heart of hearts he wanted to rescue something. He wanted to do something good.  He couldn’t rescue my mother, or my sister or me, or even himself.  So he rescued plants.

I lifted it from its place and laid it aside in the pile of things I would keep.

I brought home my little adopted friend and tried to find just the right spot where it would get enough light to grow.  It’s been all over the house in the years since.  Right now it has a cozy home by a sunny window in my bathroom.

For a long time I put off transplanting it into a bigger pot with new soil, even though it desperately needed both.  Still, it held on.  Every once in a while a leaf would turn yellow and drop off and I’d be afraid I was watching my dad’s plant die.  But another leaf would soon take its place.  It didn’t really grow, though.  It just held steady with those two or three leaves.

After scouring brick-and-mortars and the internet for a pot deserving of a plant my dad had taken the time to nurture during its teenage years, I finally found just the right pot for it and replanted it with some fresh new soil.  And what do you know, it began to grow like crazy.

Still, it only had the one stem.  And it just kept getting longer and longer.  Somewhere along the way I had developed my dad’s love of gardening and I’d learned a thing or two about it.  I knew that if I wanted the plant to be healthy, to develop multiple stems and bush out rather than remain leggy, I’d have to prune it.  I’d have to cut some off the end of the one stem it had so that the energy would be redirected to the roots and it would grow a new stem.

I put it off for a while.  It wasn’t just a stem I’d be cutting.  It was my dad’s rescue. Strangely it seemed part of him.  But I wanted it to grow into a healthy, beautiful, thriving plant, so I went to the drawer for some scissors, stood in front of it, told it I was sorry, and cut a few inches off the end.

And within a few weeks it began to grow another leafy stem.

Recently those two leafy stems with their big, shiny leaves had grown so long they were hanging on the floor.  Still, there were only two stems.  I knew it was time to prune it again.  And I dreaded it.

I went to the drawer for the scissors and stood in front of it with slightly bated breath.  This is silly! I thought.  It’s just a plant.  Again, I told it I was sorry, and I snipped off several inches this time, just adjacent to where a leaf emerged from the stem.

And suddenly something occurred to me.  Does the Lord feel this way when He prunes us?  He knows it’s for our good.  He knows just where to cut and how much to develop healthy, new growth in our lives.  Still, He knows it’s going to hurt us.

I wonder if He stands for a moment with slightly bated breath before He allows us to hear that diagnosis.  Before we hear the news about our loved one.  Before we find out we’ve lost a job or a home, or a child.

Jesus wept.

John 11:35

Of all the times the New Testament tells us of someone crying, this instance of Jesus weeping with those who wept over Lazarus’s death is the only time the word dakruo is used to describe it.  It means to weep silently or to shed tears. All other instances were of people crying out loud.

Jesus knew in just moments He would give Lazarus new life and still, His compassion for Mary and Martha and the rest was overwhelming, because He is not an uncompassionate God.  Our pain is His pain. He wept for their immediate suffering, but also for the sin nature they were caught in which ultimately brought death–the sin nature He came to overcome.

My plant is not the only rescue in this house.  I am God’s rescue.  When He plucked me out of my dark corner of the world, I was barely alive, barely growing.  Since then God’s pruned me back many times.  And I’m not always as compliant as my plant.  I’ll argue He’s taken too much or it’s too soon to take more.  And there are times I’ve wondered if He cares how much the pruning hurts.

And I look at my plant, and I know He does.

Somehow that makes going through the pruning, the struggle of it all, just a little bit easier.  Knowing God isn’t at all cavalier about the pain He must allow in my life, knowing He has a purpose beyond what I can see, knowing He’s right beside me, weeping when I weep, makes it all just a little bit easier.

When I grow up, I want to be like my plant.  I want to allow the cutting without a peep.  I want to bounce back and quickly begin to produce new growth.  I want to be content and even flourish where the Lord sees fit to put me.

Today would have been my dad’s 75th birthday.  If he were here I’d give him a jar full of jelly beans and a trip to the Desert Botanical Gardens.  Maybe a new fishing pole. Nah.  He’d rather keep the one he’d broken in.

Happy Birthday, Dad.  You rescued me more than you know.

Love and Blessings,

 

Addicted to Unforgiveness

Posted on by Dorci

One of the first things God put on my heart shortly after I accepted Christ 23 years ago was to forgive a man who had maliciously intruded into my life several years before.

But why did I need to?  I hadn’t thought about him, much, in years. I was married now.  I had a child.  Why did I need to revisit such a nightmarish memory?  Couldn’t I just forget it? 

The truth is God knew I hadn’t forgotten.  The memory and all its pain was buried deep in my heart.  And that pain was leaking poison.  And if I was honest, those painful memories were more at the surface than I’d like to have led on, even to myself.  

And God knew that if I didn’t let go of that poison, it would contaminate my heart, my life, my relationships with my husband, people and even with God.

The only way to rid a body of that kind of poison is to accept the antidote: forgiveness.

After months of praying and choosing to forgive the man, God supernaturally moved that forgiveness from my head to my heart.  And suddenly I felt forgiveness toward him. 

One down, 3,563 people and circumstances to go.  Roughly.  And that didn’t even count the things I needed to forgive myself for. 

Still, God had set me on the path to freedom.

Recently the Lord has shown me some awesome truths about unforgiveness. 

It can become a habit that’s as poisonous as alcoholism or drug addiction. You start off holding onto unforgiveness as a coping mechanism.  A balm to soothe the pain of the hurt.

But unforgiveness is liar.

The sin of unforgiveness goes much further than the unforgiveness itself.  There’s a certain self-righteousness that comes with it.  An earned anger.  And loneliness. And they’re all wrapped up in pride.

The truth is there is no balm in unforgiveness. There is no soothing of the pain.  There is only poison. 

Before the man, I’d already had a lifetime of pain.  I’d already learned to use unforgiveness as a crutch, an excuse, a way to steel my heart from any future pain.  My coping mechanism was set, my walls built, my heart scabbed over.  And every day that went by, the poison contaminated my heart.

But there was a war going on inside my heart that only God could see.  Behind that wall of pain and unforgiveness lay a heart that wanted so badly to be tender and sensitive and loving. 

The Lord saw my heart, the heart behind the wall.  And with that one act of obedience to forgive a man I’d see only once in my lifetime, the Lord had broken through that crusty heart.  And the poison I’d held there was gone.

Still, in the years since there’s been much more pain.  And I’ve had my coping mechanism. My habit. And time and time again it was proven to me that I had a reason to keep that heart walled and secret and safe.  Fresh wounds gave me a right to hold onto unforgiveness, or so I thought.  I was still dealing with pain the way I had since I was a little girl.

But now I’m learning to let go of old habits.  And instead, I’m learning to trust the Lord. 

Because that’s what it all comes down to.  Trust. 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart
    and lean not on your own understanding;
 in all your ways submit to him,
    and he will make your paths straight.

Proverbs 3:5-6

Trust that He sees your pain.

Trust that He is a good and fair God.

Trust that He is using every situation for your good.

Trust that He will make it all right in the end.

Trust that He loves you.

Forgive.  And let His peace fill your heart.

I wouldn’t have thought that being assaulted thirty years ago would be used for my good.  But God is that kind of God.  The kind that can take a twisted, depraved act chosen by a sinful man and turn it around to make me a better person.  To teach me forgiveness.  And mercy. 

And to allow the life of Jesus—the One who has shown me an unknowable amount of forgiveness and mercy—to flow through me. 

And every day, with every circumstance, I have a choice to make.

Am I going to fall back on old habits or am I going to choose to lay down my pride, trust God and forgive?

Today I choose forgiveness. 

Will you?