Redemption - Experiencing the Lower Case "R"

God is still in the business of healing and deliverance. Every day. Forgiveness, salvation and redemption are the things of His kingdom. No miracle is too big or too small.

I think I am finally beginning to understand redemption. I get capital “R” Redemption – Jesus dying for me on the cross – but small “r” redemption has never really made sense to me. When people spoke of it, I suppose I didn’t really believe them. Or Him. Okay, so something good came after something bad. But the bad thing still happened. I thought of the times I took my children to get their vaccines. A few painful jabs in the arm, with that unmistakable smell of hospital… They were too young to understand the protective benefit they were receiving, so how did we try to ease the pain? The public health nurse gave them a sticker. A sticker?! There is no way any of my kids would tell you that any sticker, even a Transformers one, was worth the experience of a sanitizer-smelling stranger stabbing them in the arm with a needle, their own mom an accomplice. But that was my view of redemption. A Dora the Explorer Band Aid stuck on a broken heart.

I remember reading about a couple whose infant had died. The father said that “God redeemed their loss.” What on earth could that mean? It sounded like the kind of ridiculous believer-speak of fundamental televangelists that freaked me out. God could bless them with a hundred other children, but they could never replace the unique life that was lost. At best they might be a distraction from the ache. But redemption? No way.

It’s not like when your car gets stolen, and your insurance pays for a new one. It’s not like replacing your old phone, or a sock with a hole in it. Cars, phones and socks can be replaced. Not children. I always hated the end of Job. (Well, I didn’t really like any of it, but the end was the worst.) “The Lord blessed the latter days of Job more than his beginning; and he had fourteen thousand sheep, six thousand camels, a thousand yoke of oxen, and a thousand donkeys. He also had seven sons and three daughters.” Job 41.12-13. Yeah, so he had twice as many animals as before. Great. But ten of his children died! So God gave him ten new ones? The new kids are indeed a blessing, but how on God’s not-always-so-green earth does that make up for the loss of ten beloved lives? How is this redemption?

But wait, don’t I believe in the God who can do “infinitely more than we can ask or imagine” (Ephesians 3.20)? That means I need to really trust that He can do things that I think are absolutely impossible. Like redemption.

Yesterday I experienced, for the first time that I recognized, the miracle of small “r” redemption. And to me it feels no less remarkable than capital “R” Redemption. (And resurrection is incredibly remarkable to me.) In a situation that has caused pain and anger, fear and shame for over twenty years, God worked a miracle. Out of that suffering He blessed me with compassion, forgiveness, and healing. He didn’t take the awful thing that happened away, but He took away its power, its ugliness. This is not like  I dropped my ice cream cone so God gave me a new one… The memory is not gone, but it is changed. He delivered me from the bondage I was stuck in. I think that is redemption. Yes, there have been many tears, but they became cleansing. Yes, I was clean, finally clean and whole after so many years of feeling dirty and broken.

I was never able to figure out how to put this burden down in my own strength, but Jesus stretched out His arms and took the burden from me, and now I feel light, like I can’t even remember what it felt like to carry it for so long. And now I sound like one of those over-the-top over-zealous TV preachers, but how can I not speak the truth? It all sounds crazy when we don’t believe, but when you experience it for yourself there is nothing crazy about it… it’s crazy how wonderful it is, but not that kind of weird crazy  that is just so, well, weird. And hard to trust. I know it sounds crazy. So did the Apostle Paul: “For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” (I Corinthians 1.18) I know that power, and I know it is God.

God heals bodies and hearts and minds and memories. I think I used to believe that was true for others, but maybe not for me. I knew Jesus could redeem me from my sins, but it never occurred to me that he could redeem me from someone else’s sins. But He has. I have this beautiful treasure chest that He gave me, but I kept putting all kinds of junk in it – a beautiful and incredible vessel filled with pain and ugliness, sin and rot. And I forgot my Father had the key! He opened the chest, took out all the crap, and filled it with Himself. God delights in surprising me, lavishing His love on me, showing me that I am indeed His beloved daughter.

I still don’t like the story of Job much. But I now see that the redemption Job received from God was not donkeys or camels or children. It was an overwhelming revelation of how much God truly loved Him, and knowing, really deeply knowing the depths of His love for us is a miracle. (And I have to trust that those children are with God now… that God is not bound by my limited sense of justice or heaven or anything.)

I used to think of redemption in economic terms – you take something that is inherently worthless, like a gift card, merely a piece of plastic, and trade it for something of value, something that is worth something to you. But God’s redemption is far beyond that. He doesn’t just redeem worthless things, He redeems awful things, painful things, evil things.

It sounds crazy to a lot of you, I know, I can hardly believe it myself. God re-routed my neural pathways, rewrote my operating code, took out my heart of stone and gave me a heart of flesh. He pruned off my rotten branches, and promises to tenderly feed and water me with His Body and His Word. None of these analogies really work, because this is a case of what is impossible for man is possible with God. (Luke 18.27) 

Healing. Forgiveness. Salvation. Deliverance. Redemption.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.” John 14.26-27

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.” Isaiah 43.1b

Losing Lent

I began this season of Lent with lofty goals – 30 additional minutes of Bible-reading per day, and a dietary-makeover along the lines of the Daniel Plan. (A whole-person health plan created by Pastor Rick Warren and friends – check it out.) I was cutting out all caffeine and sugar, as well as doing a 10 day dairy and gluten detox. The first couple of days I was pretty grumpy without my morning coffee, but I was really enjoying all the fresh fruit smoothies. The extra Bible reading was good too – I had interesting reading plans by Nicky Gumbel and Eugene Peterson. After one week I was going strong.

Suddenly everything else fell away when I had to rush to emergency with my seven-year-old. He had an allergic reaction at school and needed adrenaline, antihistamines and steroids. The first couple of hours were tense and gut-wrenching. When he was stable the doctors told me that Jude would need to stay in the hospital for 24-48 hours. After he finished work, my husband came to stay with Jude so I could run home and pack an overnight bag with some clothes and things to keep us occupied.

When I left the hospital I had been caffeine, sugar and dairy-free for seven days, but now I was in crisis. It had been a few hours since the ambulance ride, where I watched my son’s oxygen mask kick in and the injection of adrenaline subside. My fear had created a massive rush of adrenaline of my own, now I was crashing and fading. I was exhausted. I needed to keep it together and not only stay awake, but stay brave and strong for my seven-year-old who could’ve died that day. I wanted a coffee.

I had a quick decision to make – do I continue on my elimination diet, trying to stay gluten & dairy-free while eating at the hospital cafeteria for the next few days, I’m sure I could find some carrot sticks, or do I call it a good seven days and leave it for now? My weak will was certainly leaning toward scrapping the whole thing, at least for a coffee, but I prayed “God, please sustain me. Let me know what to do.” I sensed Him saying “set it aside.”

I wearily, intentionally and gratefully went to Timmy’s to get a latté. Okay, I had a couple of Timbits too. But I didn’t have 12. I didn’t scarf down a box of donuts or buy a dozen chocolate bars. I decided not to throw the baby away with the bathwater. ‘Cause I’ve done it before. I’ve been at this juncture – one slip up and I abandon the whole thing. I plan to exercise, then miss two days in a row. Ah well, might as well forget exercising at all.  I promise to write in my journal every day. A few days go by and I toss the journal behind the bookshelf. Baby. Bathwater.

As I sipped on my coffee and thought about my decision to cease my detox and diet plan, I realized this had nothing to do with Lent. Yes, it was about God – I wanted to upgrade the temple He gave me and honour Him with my actions. But it wasn’t about Lent. The detox part was really about looking for hidden food allergies. Even the 30 minute Bible plan was something I committed to do for the month of March, starting four days before Lent. These changes to my behaviour were on the surface Lentish, they intersected and overlapped with Lent, but that’s not why I chose to do them.  I didn’t spend time with God in prayer about what to do for Lent, I just did what I was going to do anyway. What was the point in being Pharisaical about my plans when they weren’t even God-ordained? Was I just cleaning the outside of the cup?

 So I got my caffeine fix with a little less guilt, grateful for the setting aside. I even giggled a little when breakfast for my seven-year-old arrived in the morning, complete with a cup of coffee. (He was happy to let me have it. After a night on a lumpy cot with one eye open, I was happy for the kick start to the day.) The mostly sleepless night gave me ample time for prayer, and I had good Bible-reading time while Jude ate his breakfast.

But there was a nagging guilt, small, slightly tugging at the corners… why didn’t I trust that God would be my strength? Was I too quick to hear what I wanted from Him?  Was my will so weak? Did I go to Him in prayer right away, or worry first? I pondered all these things, and brought them before the Lord, wondering if I had just “lost” Lent. But maybe I had just found Lent in this self-examination. Of all the traditional disciplines of Lent, self-examination has probably been the hardest for me to embrace.

So now, as Jude and I are back at home, and I know that whatever I do or don’t do for Lent, I do it for God and with God. So I am spending time getting to know myself, asking myself the hard questions about my faith, my fears. And as I patiently, coaxingly wait for the answers, I am thankful that in almost losing Lent, God is helping me to find myself.  

"Woe to you, teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside they are full of greed and self-indulgence. Blind Pharisee! First clean the inside of the cup and dish, and then the outside also will be clean. Matthew 23.25-26

"So I say to you: Ask and it will be given to you; seek and you will find; knock and the door will be opened to you. For everyone who asks receives; the one who seeks finds; and to the one who knocks, the door will be opened. Luke 11.9-10

The Road to Emmaus

The Road to Emmaus

Upon registering at our conference – “Walking in the Moment” (Ecclesiastical Province of Rupertsland Synod – if you’re not Anglican, and maybe even if you are, you just might have to google this... I don’t think I’m going to get around to explaining the organization of the Anglican Church of Canada in this installment) we were encouraged to blog about our experience this weekend. The theme comes from Luke 24:13-35 – The Road to Emmaus. To me this story illustrates the proverbial “aha” moments in one’s life. The disciples didn’t understand why Jesus died, why the supposed Messiah wasn’t the King, until a “stranger” explained God’s redemptive plan to them.

As we read this passage today we want to yell to them, “I know the end of the story - pay attention! Open your eyes!! That stranger is Jesus! It’s Him!!!” Finally they do get it... yes hindsight is often 20/20. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road...?” (Luke 24:32 NRSV) How many times do we only clue in after the fact that God was with us during a difficult journey in our life? Or a confusing time. Or a scary place. Or an ordinary day.  Jacob said, “Surely the Lord is in this place, and I wasn’t even aware of it!” (Genesis 28:16 NLT) Eureka! The lightbulb goes on!!

A few years ago I broke my foot. Bad injuries should really be accompanied by good stories. Not this one. I wasn’t skiing or skateboarding or hiking or horseback riding. My foot got tangled in a phone cord and I tripped. But did I ever do a number on my foot – surgery and screws and nerve damage and crutches for months. It was a nasty break. I couldn’t go to work. I couldn’t pick up my toddler. It was a momentous task just to get downstairs, let alone try to do laundry.  A whole bunch of other things were seemingly falling apart. I was in pain and I was cranky and I was really feeling sorry for myself. And I was mad at God.

One day I was driving to town (awkwardly), wallowing in self-pity and probably scowling. I felt like God was so far away. He was an idea. A memory. As I dwelt on the distance of God I turned on the radio. This is what I heard:
“I'm with you. If you believe in me, I'll believe in you. In the loneliest place you've ever been
I'm with you.”  (I’m With You – The Stills.)

Fine, I thought sarcastically, God, so you’re with me. But I can’t feel you. Believe in you? I do – in my head, but in my heart? It’s too broken right now. And I’m still mad at you.

Then I thought, what am I talking about? This is not a song about God – this is the cheesy local radio station! This is some sappy Top 40 love song... they even use it in a beer commercial! Whatever.  I put God far away again and I went back to dwelling on my misfortune – angry and anxious.
“Breathe, just breathe, take the world off your shoulders and put it on me. I need you to hear me say  ‘Breathe, just breathe,’” (Breathe – Ryan Star)

Are you kidding me?! I almost drove off the road – this was EXACTLY what I needed to hear right now. I needed to stop holding my breath, waiting for something else bad to happen. I needed to let go and let God... so I took a deep breath... But is this really God talking to me? That’s crazy... isn’t it? I had never heard this song before, but I certainly needed to hear it now. Hmmm...

I eventually got to town and slowly and painfully did my errands. By the time I was finished, God was back in a box in a remote shelf of my mind and I was grumpy and sore and well, it’s just not fair.

Driving home I decided to take the back gravel roads. I meandered around the farm fields and metaphorically shook my fist at the universe and everyone in it. The radio has been on since I left town, but I didn’t hear it until now:
“And the tears come streaming down your face. Could it be worse? Lights will guide you home. And ignite your bones. And I will try to fix you.” (Fix You – Coldplay)

That was it. I pulled over and absolutely bawled... God was speaking to me through the Peace River radio station. He was using rock music to reach his hand out to me. Maybe He really was with me. Maybe He had been with me the whole time.

The disciples were walking down the road – depressed, confused, disappointed. And they were walking beside Jesus! How could they be so blind? He was right there beside them! How could they be so self-absorbed? So selfish? How could they not see that Jesus was victoriously walking alongside them?! How could they not know?

Wow. The scaIes fell from my eyes. How could I not know? My heart burned within. Jesus was walking beside me too. Yes, victoriously. I totally expected to see Jesus around the corner, cooking up some fish and breaking bread for me. I would’ve gotten out of the truck and ran over to say to Him, “I’m sorry.” And eat His bread.  So I guess that’s what I did.

I wasn’t exactly walking to Emmaus. And I realized that the journey was just as important as the “aha” moment. The journey can feel very lonely and hard, and sometimes the presence of the Lord is very subtle. And we are often better with thunder from Heaven messages than subtle and gentle companionship. Was I even trying to hear the still small voice?

My foot was still broken. And I was still prone to wandering off into self-pity. But I was not alone. Jesus was walking beside me. Always. Even when I was on crutches. And yes, like the famous footprints, when it was too hard for me to walk He carried me.

To this day my foot is changed. My gait has changed. My arch is different. My bones are crooked and my nerves are damaged. My walk with God has not only spiritually but literally and physically changed. And now my arthritic foot throbs, perhaps in rhythm with the heartbeat of Christ in me. Like Jacob’s hip after his wrestle with God, I have a physical reminder of my relationship and journey with my Father.

The Lord spoke to me when I desperately needed to hear Him. He opened my eyes when I  drastically needed to see Him. He told me He wants me to breathe. And He is with me. And He will fix me. Thanks be to God.

“Then their eyes were opened and they recognized him… The Lord has risen indeed!!” (Luke 24:31, 34 NRSV)

“People say I’m strange, does it make me a stranger...” (Jesus Freak – Newsboys)