Assurance

Listen!

/ Patsy Kuipers / 7 Comments

As usual, I over-packed for a recent vacation. Nonetheless, I somehow managed to forget my mascara. Not wanting to appear eyelash-less for an entire week, I put “buy mascara” at the top of my to do list when I started out on my first field trip. Shortly after leaving my home-away-from-home I came upon a CVS, but it was on the other side of the street and I would have had to cross traffic to get to it. “Surely there will be another, more conveniently-located drug store before I reach my destination”, I told myself. Alas, there was no such drug store and I ended up stopping at a Walmart. Not only was it busier than the CVS would have been, it also required crossing traffic plus I got turned around in its convoluted parking lot both entering AND exiting.

A couple of days later I was heading off on another adventure. It was almost, but not quite, time for my afternoon tea. I passed a Starbucks soon after getting underway. Knowing I had at least an hour’s drive ahead of me I thought, “I bet I’ll pass another Starbucks soon.” Nope! This time I ended up backtracking to a Target which Siri indicated was home to the closest Starbucks. I had to endure the busyness of the store itself, its parking area AND the traffic on the mall access road leading to said parking lot. All told I added at least 20 minutes to my trip.

When would I learn? . . .

As most travelers know, it’s best to return rental cars with a full tank of gas to avoid excess refueling charges so finding a gas station was top priority as I started to the airport. I didn’t have to look far; there were two within a stone’s throw of the hotel where I spent my last night of vacation. Knowing I had a 35-mile drive I thought, “There will be more gas stations along the way.” (Cue internal conversation.) “Whoa! You’re not going to follow that logic again are you?! Do you really want to risk having to go off course to find another gas station and make yourself late for your flight?” (Anyone else out there have these conversations with themselves?) I’m happy to report I had learned my lesson. I pulled into one of the stations, refueled, and went blissfully on my needle-past-full, stress-free way to the airport.

As I drove I couldn’t help but think about other times when I don’t listen, times when I choose not to heed obvious directions when it comes to my spiritual journey. God promises to instruct us in the way we should go. He speaks clearly through Scripture, sermon messages, the godly advice of believing friends. Even so, there are instances when I’m slow to obey or I decide to take a different route altogether. And my detours often result in frustration and lead to needless sorrow. Yet God is compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love toward me, his sometimes wayward daughter. He tenderly draws me back to himself and leads me on the sure pathway Home.

Healing

/ Patsy Kuipers / 2 Comments

I was hungry when I finally arrived at home after our longer-than-usual church service. My first inclination was to go inside and fix lunch, but we’d gotten a much-needed shower overnight and I wanted to check the rain gauge. My front walk was still wet, though not terribly slippery. Nonetheless, I was careful as I made my way to the rain gauge and noted its contents. As I was returning it to its place, my neighbors pulled into their driveway so I waved to them as they got out of the car.

And then it happened. As I turned back, I caught the toe of my shoe on the edge of the walk. Before I knew it I was falling – not one of those slow motion kind of falls, but a rapid, slam-into-the-pavement plunge. In the second or two it took to unceremoniously reach the ground, all I could think was “Don’t hit your face!!!” (I’d recently re-read a friend’s account of hitting the floor face-first when he was younger, cracking both front teeth in the process, and was praying I wouldn’t meet a similar fate.) Bam! I came to an abrupt halt, but sprang up just as quickly. I didn’t wait to see if I’d hurt myself, wanting instead to avoid the embarrassment of being seen sprawled out on my front walk by the neighbors I’d cheerfully greeted just moments before.

Within seconds I realized my right hand had taken the brunt of the fall. The edge of the walk opened up a deep gash approximately an inch long in the flesh beneath my thumb. The shock of falling quickly combined with my low blood sugar, making me woozy as I saw the blood seeping out of my palm. I walked unsteadily to my neighbor’s house for assistance bandaging the wound then returned home and lay down. I don’t remember when I finally felt like eating.

The good news: no broken bones (or teeth!) In addition to the gash on my hand there were only some scratches across my nose and a small cut on my upper lip. I can’t imagine how I managed to plummet without sustaining any other injuries – nary a scratch or bruise anywhere else!

The next day I told Joshua about my fall. As I showed him my various injuries, I asked if he’d kiss them and make them better for me like I always do for him. He carefully considered my request then replied, “No Grammie, that’s too many boo-boos.” Later in the week I lifted the bandage on my hand and let him take a peek at the wound. After briefly contemplating the sight, he said, “Don’t worry, Grammie, God will give you new skin to cover up the hole.” And so He has. Slowly, steadily over the weeks since I nearly face-planted on my front walk, the gash has closed and new skin has appeared.  Truly we are fearfully and wonderfully made.

Several weeks after my fall, Joshua suffered an unpleasant injury of his own. He and June, the family dog, were both interested in a prized turkey feather. When Joshua reached for it June showed her displeasure by nipping him under his left eye. Wincing in pain, Joshua started wailing. When I got to him moments later, there was a trickle of blood on his face. I attempted to remain calm so I could comfort my little buddy, but my anxiety increased as his sobbing continued. Then my phone chimed. Justin, alerted by Mary as to the drama unfolding at home, requested to FaceTime with Joshua. Upon seeing his father’s face, Joshua quieted enough to hear what Justin had to say. In a calm, steady voice he reassured Joshua, reminding him of other times he’d been hurt, how things had subsequently gotten better and that this time would be no different. As Joshua’s tears subsided into intermittent sniffling, tears sprang to my eyes and spilled down my cheeks. In allowing me to witness this affectionate act of reassurance by an earthly father toward his distraught child, God reminded me of His love for me. Justin’s words echoed a message I needed to hear, “You’re hurting, but you’ve been hurt before. Remember, Patsy, it will get better. I’ve never left or forsaken you and I never will.”

Suffering comes in many forms. Some of the most painful injuries aren’t physical ones. Disappointments and losses can pierce our hearts and threaten to crush our spirits. But they don’t have the final say . . .

There’s now a scar at the base of my right thumb. It reminds me of the One whose wounds bring ultimate healing. Who is faithful to all His promises.  Who assures His children that a day will come when He’ll wipe away every tear.

In Remembrance

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

“Death leaves a heartache no one can heal. Love leaves a memory no one can steal.” (Unknown)

Eighteen years ago today my beloved husband was laid to rest in a tiny cemetery in North Carolina. The part of my heart that belonged to Ray went into the grave with him that sunny, late-April afternoon. Several weeks later I placed a call to “Focus on the Family” to request materials on dealing with grief. In the midst of my conversation with the kind person who answered I said, “I feel like part of me is missing.” I’ll never forget her reply, both compassionate and oh-so-insightful: “During the time you were married you and your husband became one. Part of you is missing.”

Months passed and I was having yet another day where I was struggling with the pain of losing someone so dear. Sensing my sadness, the woman I was meeting with inquired about how I was coping. When I confessed how difficult some days were she introduced me to a concept I’ve held onto ever since. She suggested I envision a beautiful piece of furniture, a chest with many drawers, each containing memories and their associated emotions. She went on with the analogy saying, “When memories of your husband’s death arise at a time when you feel you aren’t able to deal with them, imagine tucking them into one of the drawers, closing it gently and re-opening it when you’re ready to do so.” I’ll admit there have been times when a drawer has sprung open and caught me off guard. Times when a memory has overwhelmed me and I’ve struggled to shut the drawer. But more often the mental image has served me well.

The week before and the week after the anniversary of Ray’s death I’m quite intentional about opening the drawer. I think about how we spent our last few days, oblivious to the fact our time together was winding down. I remember the day of his passing with such clarity it could have happened recently, not so long ago. And I recollect the days following, when I had to make decisions I never expected, much less wanted to make at such an early age. My reminiscences are deliberate and purposeful, a way to honor Ray as well as remind myself of lessons learned and affirmed by losing him, such as:

  • The importance of numbering our days aright and keeping current in our relationships with those we hold dear.
  • The need to keep things in perspective, saving emotional distress for things that can’t be “fixed,” no matter how much money or time you invest. (And its corollary: things can be replaced, people can’t be.)
  • The ability of prayer to strengthen and support when raised up by myriad family members and friends on one’s behalf.

I’ve kept a journal for ages. On the night I returned home from the hospital, dazed and in a mild state of shock, I penned these words: “This is the worst day of my life up to this point – Ray, my dear, dear husband and friend died tonight. Even as I write it I don’t believe it. It will probably take time for the numbness to wear off, but when it does, Lord, please enfold Mary, Jessie and me in your love. I don’t understand this and I can’t even begin to imagine what my life will be like without him.” I was right. I couldn’t imagine what life would be like and to this day I don’t understand. But God heard my cry that night and many nights since. He’s been so faithful to me and my family, loving and sustaining us all the years we’ve been without Ray.

Which brings me to another point regarding the imaginary chest: it contains numerous drawers. Although some hold remembrances that evoke sadness, there are many more containing memories associated with great joy. I open those on a regular basis, reliving and savoring the moments, praising God for His goodness and grace. And each year when April 19th comes around, I remind myself I’m another year closer to once again seeing the man I was blessed to call my husband. The reunion is guaranteed because of the broken body and spilled blood of the One who instructed His followers to remember Him, His sacrifice, His promises. And so we wait in hope and assurance.

Here comes the sun

/ Patsy Kuipers / Leave a comment

I try not to complain about the weather. As a dedicated gardener, I know plants need the rain every bit as much as they need the sun. However, for the past week or so, the sunny South had been anything but. One cold, cloudy, drizzly day followed another in somber progression until I finally succumbed, sadly lamented the lack of sunshine and spent the better part of one day earlier this week in tears.

Yesterday the glorious sphere of light finally reappeared, warming the earth and restoring my customary optimistic outlook. There was renewed activity around the bird feeder, which had been woefully devoid of the happy twittering of my feathered friends on those seemingly endless dreary days. A squirrel scampered back and forth on the deck railing, plotting strategy for an attack on the feeder (which he wisely didn’t try!) The violas planted by my mailbox, drooping after the cold days and frigid nights, began to lift their heads toward the sunlight. Indeed all of us were buoyed by the sun’s return.

The sun shone brightly again today, beckoning me outside to check on my beloved plants. The busyness of the holidays and the recent cold temperatures had deterred me from my practice of walking the property on a regular basis.  I began my afternoon by removing last year’s spent foliage from a number of perennials and then went in search of new growth. I didn’t have to look far. Even though the garden may appear lifeless and barren, plants are alive and well, preparing for a new season. Finding these signs of life gives me great joy and fills me with hope, just like it has every year since I first faced the task of cleaning up the beds by myself (see “Consider it pure joy”, July 1, 2014).

As the succession of overcast days left me feeling dejected, wondering if the sun would ever reappear, there are times when a spiritual chill can settle upon us. Worries and fears cloud our perspective, leading us to question the presence of the Son. Yet, just as the sun is there when we can’t see it or feel its warmth, the Son has promised to be with us always, to the very end of the age (Matthew 28:20). He will guide, sustain and protect us through all the seasons of our lives until the day when we dwell with Him in the City that will not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God will give it light and the Lamb will be its lamp (Revelation 21:23).

Put off, put on

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

In October, I posted “Ode to a Crape Myrtle” in which I extolled the many delightful features of one of the trees I hold in highest esteem in my landscape. The numerous desirable characteristics allow crape myrtles the distinction of being multiple-seasons-of-interest plants.  One of my favorite traits, its exfoliating bark, provided the spiritual tie-in for that post, the mandate to put off the old and put on the new.  Now that a new year is upon us, a time when we often take stock of where we’ve been and where we want to go, it seems appropriate to delve more deeply into the concept of putting off and putting on.

In one of several recorded confrontations with the Pharisees, Jesus warned it isn’t enough to become presentable on the outside by putting something off. Superficial change isn’t what’s required. Instead, it is necessary to embrace Jesus and put on his ways or risk finding yourself in a worse state than before. We find the story in Matthew 12: “When an unclean spirit comes out of a man, it goes through arid places seeking rest and does not find it. Then it says, ‘I will return to the house I left.’ When it arrives, it finds the house unoccupied, swept clean and put in order. Then it goes and takes with it seven other spirits more wicked than itself, and they go in and live there. And the final condition of that man is worse than the first.”

Fortunately, Scripture is full of examples of not only what to put off, but also what to put on. A passage in Ephesians 4 is one of the most comprehensive on the subject.  Some of the paired put offs/put ons therein include: falsehood/truth; stealing/making a living honestly; unwholesome talk/speaking that which builds others up; bitterness, rage, and anger/kindness, compassion, and forgiveness. It seems like a daunting task, this business of becoming new, but Scripture assures us “if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation, the old has gone, the new has come!” (2 Corinthians 5:17)

Just like the crape myrtle gradually sheds its outer bark, exposing the beauty that lies beneath, we can be certain the Spirit will help us put off our old ways, revealing more and more the One whose attributes we are called to put on.

A single red rose

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

Red roses have been associated with romantic love for centuries. According to the ProFlowers website, “The red rose began its illustrious symbolic history in Greek and Roman iconography, where it was tied to Aphrodite, or Venus, the goddess of love.” In his enduring poem, “A Red, Red Rose”, Robert Burns likened his true love to one of the exquisite flowers. I, too, have been touched by the beauty of red roses. As a matter of fact, it’s probably not an overstatement to say one played a role in changing the course of my life . . .

When I was in my early twenties, I met a handsome young man and promptly fell head-over-heels for him. Surely he was “the one”! Some months later, it became evident he wasn’t, as he stated his desire to return to his college sweetheart, who he’d never completely gotten over. I was crushed. Yet, a mere week later, I met Ray, another handsome young man who I’d come to know and love. He was thoughtful and kind and had a bit of a stubborn streak. His tenacity came in handy since it took no small effort on his part to break through the fog of despondency that settled around me after “not-the-one-after-all” broke up with me. As summer turned into fall, I continued to turn down Ray’s invitations, seeing him instead at activities sponsored by the singles group where we first met. I commented to my mom, “I’m not sure why he keeps asking me out.” Her reply, “He’s obviously found someone he likes and isn’t going to give up easily!”

The Singles Group Christmas dinner was held on my birthday that year. After the banquet, Ray presented me with a single red rose. Somehow that rose broke through my defenses and opened my heart to the possibility of loving again. And, as the saying goes, the rest is history. Wedding photo for blogWhen Ray and I got married, I carried a red rose with a sprig of baby’s breath and some greenery, despite the florist’s protestations that the bridesmaids’ bouquets would cost more than mine. Over the years we were married, Ray frequently gave me a single red rose for my birthday, our anniversary and other special occasions, hearkening back to the first one and what it meant to us.

The last birthday Ray spent with me was no different. When I came home from work that night it seemed like the kitchen was full of roses – miniature pink ones for our daughters, a dozen yellow ones and a single red one for me. In addition to the real red rose, Ray gave me a beautiful pin. 010I still marvel at this gift in light of the fact he died four months to the day later. Ray didn’t know he wouldn’t be around to give me single red roses on birthdays yet to come, but God did and I believe he somehow encouraged Ray to give me the pin which I wear one day each year – now 18 birthdays and counting.

When Ray died, I took a single red rose to the funeral home and asked the funeral director to place it in his hands for me. It was a fitting close to our tradition. Sometimes I think about what it will be like when I finally get to see Ray again. Might he have that rose in his hands, ready to give it back to me? After all, nothing’s impossible for God. Yet rose or no rose, I’m certain the longed for reunion will take place. I will see Ray again and we’ll spend eternity together worshipping and praising our great Redeemer. I can be sure because the baby whose birth we just celebrated was the Word made flesh, who dwelt among us, lived a sinless life and died on a rugged cross that we might live with him FOREVER.

Thoughts on Romans 8:32

/ Patsy Kuipers / 1 Comment

“He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” Romans 8:32

Commenting on this verse in his book “Future Grace”, pages 112-113 and 114 (Multnomah Press, 2012), John Piper says:

“He did not spare his Son.  And therefore it is impossible that he should spare us the promise for which the Son died — he will with him give us all things.  What a truth!  Giving us all things is the easy thing! Think on that every time you fear being denied something that would be good for you.  You think it is a hard thing.  You see many obstacles.  It looks impossible.  At that discouraging moment think about his heavenly logic.  Giving you what you need is the easy part.  And the hard part is already done.  Creating the world and running it for the good of his people is a relatively easy thing for God to do compared to handing over his Son to ridicule and torture.  But he did it.  And now all future grace is not only sure; it is easy . . . The great promise of future grace, guaranteed in the logic of Romans 8:32, is that nothing will ever enter your experience as God’s child that, by God’s sovereign grace, will not turn out to be a benefit to you.  This is what it means for God to be God, and for God to be for you, and for God to freely give you all things with Christ.”

And Susannah Spurgeon in a compilation of her devotions, “Free Grace and Dying Love”, page 3 (The Banner of Truth Trust, 2006), writes:

“‘He that spared not his own Son.’  He gave his most precious treasure; could he withhold any lesser good from you?  He has given you pounds; will he refuse you pence? . . . ‘How shall he not with him also freely give us all things?’  Think well my heart, what ‘all things’ mean to you! . . . All spiritual blessings, rich and precious, are laid up for you in this divine storehouse . . . There is not a need or desire of your inner life which cannot be triumphantly met by faith’s unwavering challenge, ‘How shall he not?’  Nor is there a necessity of your temporal state which cannot equally claim the blessing of possessing ‘all things’ in Christ.”

My heart is heavy this morning and in need of reassurance.  These quotes remind me that nothing is impossible for God, nor will He withhold any good or necessary thing from me. Therefore, it seems reasonable to conclude if He is withholding something it must not be best or needful, at least not at this moment in my life.

Over the years, God has given me glimpses of his truth in some rather mundane situations. As I typed the last couple of sentences, one such episode came to mind. I’d been to the store and was putting the purchased provisions away. More specifically, at the moment this particular insight came, I was placing packages of toilet paper in my young daughters’ bathroom closet – can’t get much more mundane than that! I thought, “Mary and Jessie don’t have to worry about having things available when they need them. I make sure whatever they need is on hand.” And then I realized, “I don’t have to worry either. Everything I’ll ever need is already in God’s ‘closet’ and He’ll make it available as needed.” Furthermore, if I, as a finite, imperfect human parent know how to give good gifts to my children, I can certainly count on my perfect, infinite heavenly Father to give good gifts to me. (Matthew 7:11 and Luke 11:13)

And so, with the Psalmist, I’ll say, “Why, my soul, are you downcast? Why so disturbed within me? Put your hope in God, for I will yet praise him, my Savior and my God.” (Psalm 42:11)

John Piper’s Thoughts on Romans 8:28

/ Patsy Kuipers / 3 Comments

From time to time, I’ll share some of my favorite quotes, especially ones that relate to my posts. Here’s one I particularly like from John Piper regarding Romans 8:28. It appears on pages 118-119 of his book “Future Grace”. (Multnomah Books, 2012)

“When it comes to the architecture of future grace and the buildings we call the promises of God, Romans 8:28 shares the tribute of being one of the two or three greatest. This structure is staggering in its size. The infinitely wise, infinitely powerful God pledges that in this building, future grace will make everything beneficial to his people!  Not just nice things, but horrible things too – like tribulation and distress and peril and famine and sword (Romans 8:35-37)  Once you walk through the door of love into the massive, unshakable structure of Romans 8:28, everything changes.  There come into your life stability and depth and freedom.  You simply can’t be blown over anymore.  The confidence that a sovereign God governs for your good all the pain and all the pleasure that you will ever experience is an incomparable refuge and security and hope and power in your life.  When God’s people really live by the future grace of Romans 8:28 – from measles to the mortuary – they are the freest and strongest and most generous people in the world.”