Month: December 2020

Through the Waters

/ Patsy Kuipers / 4 Comments

But now thus says the Lord,
he who created you, O Jacob,
    he who formed you, O Israel:
“Fear not, for I have redeemed you;
    I have called you by name, you are mine.
 When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
    and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
    and the flame shall not consume you.
 For I am the Lord your God,
    the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.”
Isaiah 43:1-3a

Hello, dear readers.  I know you’re not used to hearing from me this frequently, but I need to remind myself of a few things as this challenging year draws to a close, and I thought you might need a reminder as well.

Bad News

After months of staying out of the crosshairs of Covid-19, my daughter and son-in-law contracted the disease last week, sending me into self-quarantine and separation from my elderly parents. I’m thankful their cases have been mild and that none of the rest of us have developed symptoms so far.

But then, within the space of an hour yesterday, I received news that:

  • More members of the church I attend tested positive for Covid-19, while others had possibly been exposed to the virus, at church and elsewhere.
  • Cases of Covid-19 had popped up at the rehab facility where my friend’s mother is receiving care.
  • A longtime friend had been diagnosed with cancer.

I barely had time to process one communication before another reached me. The coronavirus isn’t a distant threat anymore. It’s affecting people in my everyday circles. And old enemies, like cancer, are still very much present.

As I mulled over the morning’s messages, a ditty from the old TV show Hee Haw came to mind. In Gloom, Despair, and Agony on Me, the comedians proclaimed, “If it weren’t for bad luck, I’d have no luck at all.” I tweaked the refrain: “If it weren’t for bad news, I’d have no news at all.” Unlike the minstrels of the catchy tune, I found no humor in the situations facing my friends and family. Concern for them furrowed my brow and troubled my thoughts.

Shifting Focus

I needed a spiritual pep talk, an attitude adjustment, a change of perspective. The shift began when a Facebook memory reminded me that yesterday marked the 10th anniversary of Mom’s emergency triple bypass surgery. I pondered the events of that day, how a catheterization two days after her heart attack revealed three life-threatening blockages. The images are still fresh all these years later: the nurses on either end of Mom’s bed who wouldn’t meet my gaze as we waited for the doctor to tell me the devastating news; the haste to prepare Mom for surgery; how our eyes locked lovingly for what I wondered might be the last time as they took her back to the operating room and the doors closed behind her.

Those ruminations led me to contemplate another health scare last spring at the same hospital after Mom developed a severe case of pneumonia. Late that night, when I left her with the emergency department’s capable caregivers, she was attached to all sorts of contraptions to help her breathe.  Once again, I parted company, not knowing if she’d be alive the next time I saw her.[1]

But she was. And she still is, blessing my life and that of many others, thanks be to God!

Sometimes the unexpected plot twists don’t end the way we would hope, though. On the evening of April 19, 1997, I received a phone call informing me my 39-year-old husband had been transported to the hospital by ambulance. My mind raced as I drove. Clenching the steering wheel, I prayed I’d find him alive. But I didn’t. Unbeknownst to me, we’d said our last goodbye hours earlier when he’d left for work.

Gains and losses. We can trust God to work them all together for good for those who love Him (Romans 8:28).

The Best News

This time last year, as we were getting ready to bid farewell to 2019 and welcome 2020, we had no idea what lay ahead – a pandemic, social unrest, political discord, personal challenges and triumphs of various sorts. The truth is, we don’t know what the next hour holds, much less the coming year. But, unlike my edited version of the old Hee Haw song, there is good news, the most excellent news: we belong to the One who does know, the One who ordains the end from the beginning (Isaiah 46:9-10). And He’s promised never to leave us or forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:8). That’s what we just celebrated last week – Immanuel, God with us.

I’ll close with two quotes I came across recently. I pray they’ll encourage you as they do me. As we enter a new year, may we endeavor to remind ourselves and each other daily of God’s steadfast love.

“God’s grace is sufficient, and his grace is specific. When it’s time to age, he gives aging grace. When it’s time to suffer, he gives suffering grace. When it was (my husband) Gene’s time to die, the Lord gave dying grace. And now he is giving me grieving grace.” Susan Hunt [2]

“And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year:
‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.’
And he replied:
‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the Hand of God.
That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.’” Minnie Louise Haskins[3]

Dear Lord, what a blessing to know that no matter how deep the waters or how hot the fiery trials we may face, we have nothing to fear because You’ve promised to be with us. Please help us to turn to You each day for the grace to meet our needs, knowing Your mercies are new every morning. Great is Your faithfulness!

[1] You can read about both of these experiences in more detail and find more encouraging verses in “Through the Night” and “Encourage One Another” in the May 2019 archives.

[2] Sharon W. Betters & Susan Hunt, Aging With Grace, Flourishing In An Anti-Aging Culture (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2021), 26.

[3] From Minnie Louise Haskins’ poem, God Knows, aka The Gate of the Year, written in 1908.

A Post-Christmas Meditation

/ Patsy Kuipers / 4 Comments

Merry Christmas, dear readers. I pray you have found renewed hope as we’ve celebrated the birth of Jesus, our Lord and Savior. As I write, various piles of  Christmas-related items are beckoning, but this post is begging to be written, so the clutter will have to wait as I  compose this meditation.

209I bet it wouldn’t surprise you to know I read Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth each Christmas Eve (Luke 2:1-20). I’m guessing many of you do as well. No matter how many times I ponder it, I’m overcome by the depiction of that long-ago night. The angel of the Lord declaring the glorious news. Startled shepherds, who nonetheless went immediately to investigate this thing the angel proclaimed. And the Baby in the manger. The second person of the Trinity, a helpless babe, the Word made flesh. How amazing! No wonder a multitude of the heavenly host joined the herald angel, praising and glorifying God!

Now, what if I told you I also read Isaiah 53 each Christmas Eve? Would you think it incongruous, too dark a chapter for such a night of rejoicing? I read it because I want to remember the joyful news of peace on earth came at the price of Jesus’ very life. Take a look at the first six verses:

Who has believed what he has heard from us?
And to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?
 For he grew up before him like a young plant,
and like a root out of dry ground;
he had no form or majesty that we should look at him,
and no beauty that we should desire him.
 He was despised and rejected by men,
a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief;
and as one from whom men hide their faces
he was despised, and we esteemed him not.
Surely he has borne our griefs
and carried our sorrows;
yet we esteemed him stricken,
smitten by God, and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our transgressions;
he was crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace,
and with his wounds we are healed.
All we like sheep have gone astray;
we have turned—every one—to his own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
the iniquity of us all.

Jesus knew what it would cost Him, and He came anyway. The Apostle Paul wrote, one will scarcely die for a righteous person – though perhaps for a good person one would dare even to die – but God shows his love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us (Romans 5:7).

Having humbled Himself even to the point of death on the cross, Jesus accomplished His mission and returned to the Father’s right hand (Hebrews 10:12). There He sits, interceding for us.  And we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need (Hebrews 4:15-16).

Therein lies our hope for today and for eternity. Jesus knows what it’s like to walk this earth, to be acquainted with grief and sorrow, to be tempted. Our compassionate Savior understands. He gave His life that we might draw near to the throne of grace – not in fear, but with confidence –  to receive the mercy and grace we so desperately need as we await His return.

Christmas decorations will soon be stored away, piles sorted, boxes and paper recycled. But the greatest gift ever given will never lose its luster or wear out. It’s to be embraced and cherished every day of our lives.

Dear Jesus, Luke wrote that the shepherds returned to their flocks glorifying and praising God after they’d seen You. They found everything just as the angel had told them. Thank You that we too will find every one of Your promises and proclamations to be true. Thank You for giving Your life to make it so.

The Baby in the Manger

/ Patsy Kuipers / 3 Comments

Setting up my Dickens Village is one of my most beloved Christmas traditions. My late husband, Ray, gave me the first pieces in 1989 and added to it each year until he passed away in 1997. I’ve continued to do the same, until now, 31 years later, the village has spread to three rooms of my house. Setting it up requires many hours across multiple days, but it’s a labor of love, one I look forward to every November. [1]

As you might imagine, I’ve developed a system over the years to make constructing the vast display more manageable. I usually begin in my small living room, which houses the fewest pieces, to build momentum. Inevitably, tears punctuate the initial opening of boxes as I think about Ray, both how thankful I am that he started the village for me and how much I wish he were here to see how much it’s grown.

035The living room holds not only some of my oldest Dickens pieces but also a Precious Moments nativity. It, too, is a long-ago gift from Ray that elicits tears. But the tears that well up as I carefully place the pieces – various animals, a shepherd boy, Mary and Joseph, wise men, and angels  – around the tiny figurine of the baby in the manger spring from wonder and amazement. And deep-seated gratitude.

Think about it. Jesus’ suffering didn’t begin when He was arrested or mocked, beaten, and nailed to the cross. It commenced when He willingly left His Father’s side, took on flesh, and proceeded to endure all the temptations and brokenness of this life during His earthly sojourn. The King of Kings and Lord of Lords came to earth to save us, to give us the gift of eternal life, a priceless gift we could never earn or buy for ourselves.

Just like it’s impossible for me to pick a favorite Dickens piece, I can’t pick a best-loved  Bible passage, but verses from the first chapter of John are near the top of the list:

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things were made through him, and without him was not any thing made that was made.  In him was life, and the life was the light of men.  The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it . . . And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth. John 1:1-5, 14

My heart fills with joy when I read that beautiful description of our Savior. The assertion that the darkness has not overcome the light gives me peace.  The world was a dark place when Jesus was born. There is darkness now, and there will be until He returns. Sometimes shadows are personal, resulting from private grief or suffering; sometimes, they’re widespread, like the pandemic we’ve endured this year. Regardless of the source of darkness, God assures us that the Light of the World will outshine it, providing eternal hope for His children.

I pray you’ll join me in meditating on this glorious promise this Advent season.

O, Lord, how I thank You for sending the priceless gift of Your only begotten Son, the Light of the World, to redeem us. We have the assurance that no matter how dark things might seem, the darkness will never overcome the Light of Jesus. May that be our hope now and in the coming year.

[1] If you’d like to read more about my Dickens Village please see “It’s All in the Details” in the November 2016 Archives.