Flipping Rocks

A couple of weeks ago I asked you to pray about some cancer blood work I was having.  And I guess it is only fair when you ask for prayers to let people know how things turned out. 

I know that. I do. And I am sorry if I've kept anyone wondering. It wasn't my intention. I am just in a place right now where I couldn't find the energy ... or much of anything. I feel so "done" with cancer. It's hard to explain how "done." Trust me, DONE.

And, yet, I'm not.  I'm not done. And I am daily reminded that I never will be. There's no bell to ring. There's no finish line to cross. Well, at least not on this earth. It is forever treatment. Forever. 

Somedays that is more than I can bear. There. I said it. It is simply too much. That's where I've been these past couple of weeks.  

So somedays I choose to think about other things entirely. Like Mahjong. I know some of you are wondering what the heck is going on---Jody was having blood work and worried about cancer's progression and then POOF! All of a sudden she's transformed her basement into a Mahjong parlor and she's teaching large groups of women every week and throwing parties with a few of her friends. 

Yep, she is. All of this is true. 

And perhaps a tad strange.

No, it doesn't replace the blood work, the tests, the waiting, the results and the reality ... but it helps me not dwell on them. It helps me feel a tiny bit normal. A tiny bit.

If I had to sit home and "take it easy" and just ponder cancer I'm pretty sure my head would pop off. Nope that's not for me. Never was and never will be. I am choosing to live. One week it might be sourdough bread, chickens and gardens ... another week it might be teaching Mahjong to lovely ladies. It is who I am. I don't know how to be someone else. Not even with cancer. I am fighting hard to be Jody. Somedays I weep because I feel her slipping away. I feel old. I feel tired. I feel scared. I feel anxious. I feel afraid. I feel angry. 

These aren't feelings I've ever dealt much with. It is new territory for this old girl. When people talk about battling cancer do they know it isn't just the disease one battles? It's also fighting for myself. Fighting to feel normal. Fighting to remain me. 

Oh friends, I'm fighting.

Anyway, I know I owe y'all an answer about that blood work. It came back last week not as we wished. Not as we hoped. Not as we prayed for. My numbers continue to rise and no one seems to really know why. And I don't really know what to say to God about it all. Only I wish He would answer differently. I am certain He hears and cares and loves, but I do wish He might answer differently. 

So tomorrow I am having another scan. A different kind of scan. The doctors want to make sure we aren't missing something. Has the cancer mutated? Is it maybe hiding? We don't know. The blood work is concerning and we need to "overturn every stone" as my oncologist likes to say. So we are turning over another stone with tomorrow's scan. 

Did you ever flip rocks as a little kid? I remember doing that a lot. We used to play in a creek bed near our home and every time I'd flip over a big stone my heart would race a little. What would I find lurking beneath? What snake or awful mysterious water thing might be waiting there ready to pounce. That's kind of how I feel tonight. I'd really like to get out of this creek bed altogether and maybe just go do something else a little less risky.  Something like hopscotch or handball. Or Mahjong. But tomorrow morning we flip over another rock. And I wait for another result. And that is just the way it is these days. 

So I am going to ask you again: Would you pray for me? Would you pray this new and different scan does not show anything new and different to worry about? Would you pray that I can sleep tonight and go into my weekend without the weight of this stone around my neck? Would you pray that Jesus would lighten this load.

He tells us in Matthew 11 ---

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28-30

Oh dear ones. I believe that He is the lightener of all loads. My load. Your load. He is The Light. He is, in fact, light. I believe it with everything in me. He shines light even in the very darkest places. Even under rocks waiting to be overturned. He is already there.

He is the Light of the World.

"The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it." ~ John 1:5

Thank you for hanging in here with me. I am so grateful for every one of your prayers. You continue to bless me. And He hears.

   

Cliff Clinging or Rock Resting? [Joy - Week 9]

 “May the God of hope fill you with ALL JOY + PEACE in believing, 

that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in HOPE.” Romans 15:13

Joy. Peace. Power. Hope. Aren’t these things we all deeply desire? And Paul so nicely ties them together in this Romans' verse. A logical little circle. 

Hope —> Joy —> Peace —> Power —> Hope!

I wrestled mightily with all of these words after first being diagnosed stage four. How could I have any of these things when I was stamped with an incurable disease and an incomprehensible prognosis?

Hope was reserved for stage one or two or three breast cancer, not stage four. Stage four felt like all I could do was hang on to a cliff that was quickly crumbling beneath me. When the doctors explained that we were no longer looking to cure me only to preserve some years for me, I felt utterly without hope. And certainly without joy or peace. 

Three years into this gig and you know I still wrestle a good bit. But God is doing a work in me that is nothing short of a miracle. I don’t know if He will miraculously cure my incurable disease, but He IS curing me of my doubts and disbelief. He is curing me of my natural self which wants to rest in test results or things I can pretend to control. 

He is curing me of the places I put my trust. He is curing me of the earthly desires and distractions which steal my daily attention. He is curing me of the false sense of security I have in myself. Oh, yes, He is curing me. And in His upside down Kingdom, He is using cancer to do so -- Cancer to cure me.

My joy, my peace, my power, my hope … It is never going to come from being declared cancer free. Yes, I want that. Yes, I desire that. Yes, I am asking every day for that. But, these things only—yes ONLY—come from the God of Hope. Not the god of good health or the god of here or the god of have-it-my-own-way. No, only the God of Hope. Capital G.

I would have told you I believed that for most of my life. And I sort of did. I mean I said I did. I thought I did. I tried to live like I did. But in these years of feeling like I’m clinging to a crumbling cliff, I’ve had to come to terms with what happens when the cliff finally falls away. What happens then? None of us can hang on forever. None of us will. Whether it be deemed earlier than average or a long and lusty life, it isn’t forever for any one of us. So what happens then? 

That question is everything. I’m sorry, try as we may, we really can’t ignore it.

I am waiting this week on some important blood results. We are praying and hoping for my numbers to go back down. These aren’t tumor markers which are somewhat unreliable, this is new science and it is pretty certain. I won’t have the results until end of this week or weekend. It is a long period of waiting. It is tiresome. It is trying. It is taking a toll on me and is a reminder of that crummy crumbly cliff to which I cling.

But this morning, very purposefully, Jesus met me and reminded me that it is not a cliff to which I cling, but a rock on which I rest. 

The Rock of my Salvation. The rock which reassures me of my eternity. The rock which provides shelter, security, and surety regardless of results. That Rock. 

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.”  ~ Psalm 18:2

“Hear my cry, O God, listen to my prayer! From the end of the earth I call to you when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I.” Psalm 61:1 & 2

Not only can I rest rightly upon it, but I am hidden in it. 

I think of the story from Exodus 33 when Moses met with the Lord before leaving for the promised land. I’m pretty sure Moses would have told us that he felt like the Lord was asking a lot of him: Leave this land. Lead these people. Learn all these lessons. Maybe Moses was unsure, unconvinced, unsettled. Why did it have to be so hard? Why was the Lord asking so much? 


But instead of asking all the “why” questions, Moses asked God to show him His glory. “Now show me your glory.” Maybe he had gotten to that point where he didn't any longer need to know why, but that it was worth it. God’s glory was enough. Because God’s glory is enough.

“Then the Lord said, ‘There is a place near me where you may stand on a rock. When my glory passes by, I will put you in a cleft in the rock and cover you with my hand until I have passed by.”  Exodus 33:21 & 22

I don't know about you, but I can’t help but picture myself in that cleft of His mighty rock. Me in that carefully carved out crevice and covered with the very hand of God. For His glory. Hidden. Safe. Secure. Sure.

And full of hope.

“May the God of hope fill you with ALL JOY + PEACE in believing, that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in HOPE.” Romans 15:13

Where Do You Dwell? [Joy - Week 8]

“THEN my head will be exalted above my enemies who surround me; at His sacred tent I will sacrifice with shouts of JOY; I will sing and make music to the Lord.” ~ Psalm 27:6

*THEN*

The English teacher in me needs to tell you that “then”  positioned at the beginning of  verse 6 is pointing to something earlier in the Psalm 27 passage. We must go back and read verses 4 & 5 to better understand why this word “then” is used —

“One thing I ask from the Lord,
this only do I seek:
that I may DWELL in the house of the Lord
 all the days of my life,
to gaze on the beauty of the Lord
    and to seek Him in His temple. For in the day of trouble.He will keep me safe in His DWELLING; He will hide me in the shelter of His sacred tent and set me high upon a rock.”  Psalm 27:4&5

THEN comes joy. 

But FIRST I must DWELL with the Lord.

Dwell, then joy. 

I can shout for joy at His sacred tent BECAUSE I am safe in His dwelling and hidden in the shelter of His tent. 

How hidden? How safe? HIGH upon a rock hidden and safe. 

That hidden. That safe.

This psalm was used as the call to worship at a revival service I attended last night. I was there to meet Jesus. To ask for His power and healing. I am praying in faith. Sometimes it feels like a big faith, but mostly it is more mustard seed sized. He tells me that is all I need—the tiny faith of a mustard seed. 

I am not sure the size of my faith matters as much as where I choose to DWELL. His word instructs me over and over again to—

To seek Him in His temple 

To seek His face.

To seek His righteousness.

To gaze on His beauty.

To dwell in His house.

“Blessed are those who DWELL in your house; they are ever praising you.”  Psalm 84: 4 

and

“Better is one day in your courts than a thousand elsewhere.” Psalm 84:10

and

“How lovely is your DWELLING place, Lord Almighty.” Psalm 84:1 

Yes, I want to choose joy, but first I must ask myself —Where do I dwell? 

Where do I spend my time, my thoughts, my energy, my attention, my focus, my money, my everything. 

Where do I dwell each day?

The joy will come. But first I must decide to dwell with the Lord. To stay with Him. To accept His shelter, His shadow, the safe-haven of His holiness.

“Whoever DWELLS in the shelter of the Most High, will REST in the shadow of the Almighty.” Psalm 91

This verse has become a bit of a bulwark or hallmark in my life lately. Securely stamped. It is one of the verses I have on repeat in my head when I wake in the middle of the night or when I’m feeling anxious or afraid in the middle of the day. I say it out loud:

JODY who DWELLS in the shelter of the Most High 

will REST in the shadow of the Almighty.

She who dwells will rest. 

And she who rests will also [then] find joy. 

DWELL- REST- JOY. 

It is a winning combination. 

More importantly, it is a life-giving combination.

Hebrews says it a little differently —

“Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. For the JOY set before Him He endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.” Hebrews 12:2

Eyes on Jesus! He is the ultimate example of JOY in the hardest of circumstances. See, if my eyes are on Him then they just can’t be quite so focused on me or on my cancer or on any of my many issues.

Fixing my eyes on Jody causes me to fret.

Fixing my eyes on Jesus encourages me toward faith.

Dwelling on me, I get depressed in my brokenness.

Dwelling on Him, I get to gaze at His beauty.

Remember the old song …

“Turn your eyes upon Jesus

Look full in His wonderful face

And the things of this earth

Will grow strangely dim

In the light of His glory and grace.”

Can you hear the tune? Sing it today. Whistle it. Write it out on a piece of paper and put it up on your refrigerator door.

Remind yourself where you dwell matters. 

Turn your eyes to Him. 

Tune our hearts to sing His praise.

DWELL-REST-JOY!

“At His sacred tent, I will sacrifice with shouts of joy.” Psalm 27:6

If you are up for it, I’d love to assign a little extra homework. Can I  encourage you this week to spend time in three Psalms where I believe the Lord is encouraging us to DWELL more deeply with Him? Psalm 27, Psalm 91 and Psalm 84. 

Maybe use these as part of your quiet time and see for yourself all of the ways in which they beautifully connect and come together.

One last thing I want to share  — This week God gave me the sweetest little gift around the word “dwell.” In some research I was doing about Bella’s Chinese name Zhang Xue Zhu, I learned that the “Zhu” part actually has several meanings. We had always thought it meant bamboo, but another meaning is “dwell.” I loved learning that this week almost 15 years after she has been home! 

Labor Pains [Joy - Week 7]

Last week in my JOY post I wrote about being a mom. This week, in honor of Mother’s Day, I’d like to share with you the joy of having a mom.

After living long-distance from my parents for over 25+ years, last May, we moved my mom from Ohio to Georgia to be closer to us.  She is in an assisted living community nearby. And though there is help provided, I still spend a good bit of time now caring for my mom. And sometimes it is hard. Really hard. Because aging is really hard. But, mostly, I am grateful for this opportunity to have my mom close and to be more involved in her life and have her in ours. 

For Mother's Day this weekend, we had mom stay with us and did our best to treat her like a queen. I won’t say she likes to be treated like a queen. But … she likes to be treated like a queen! :) And who doesn't? Fine china and tea with the perfect amount of lemon and sugar, flower bouquets, new pajamas, phone calls from out of town family, church and brunch, grandchildren and a glass of wine. You get the picture. It was a lovely day for her and for all of us. It brought her joy … and that brought me joy. 

Isn’t it true, so often our own joy comes from doing things for others? Especially those, like our moms, who have done so much for us. I wasn’t exactly an easy child. I’m pretty sure at age 14 she would have liked to ship me off to boarding school or an island somewhere far away. But we made it through those years and she was faithful in her love and patience and prayers. And here we are full circle and this mother who mothered me is now being a bit mothered by me. Because that is sort of what also must happen. The circle of life. Did I mention it can be hard? It’s hard for her. It’s hard for me. Hard, and yet, holy.

Because it’s also a great privilege to have this chance to do so. I know not every person gets this opportunity at this juncture in life. Somedays I must remind myself of that. 

Just like I had  to do when I had a house full of small children and I found myself feeling overwhelmed and out numbered and crying in a locked bathroom. Even when I wanted to ship my own 14 year old daughters off to boarding school or a far away island. I loved them all dearly, but some days were just plain challenging. That is such a part of motherhood. Daughterhood. Womanhood. Personhood. Life. 

Mothering requires a grit and a grace that isn’t easily put into words, but like the pains of labor, we often forget the anguish or sorrow or difficult days when we recall how sweet and good a gift it is. 

As Mother’s Day came to a close yesterday and Bella and I drove mom back to her apartment, my mom began to tell us some sweet things she had been recently remembering about each of her four kids when we were little. She doesn’t always talk this way and so it was a precious moment for us to share with her. At one point I quietly asked Bella to hit the record button on my phone so I could save these little stories. This morning I woke up and decided I’d leave them in this post today as they brought me joy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The summer before my older brother Doug was getting ready to head off to Kindergarten he and my mom were out for a walk together. He was six years old and still held her hand tightly. As they strolled by the school building where he would begin in just a month or so, she asked him if he was excited to start Kindergarten soon. Doug answered saying, “Yeah, I think so. But ...” He paused a bit before continuing on, “Mom, will you be missing me like I’ll be missing you?” My mom told us she could still see him looking up, his tiny hand in hers, and asking that question so earnestly and sweetly. She assured him she would indeed be missing him. 

As second born, I was the next story in line. Mom shared with us that in 2nd grade my teacher, Mrs. Hanek, often told her that I talked entirely too much in class, but that she couldn’t quite figure out how to prove it. She said every time she heard me talking she’d quickly turn and ask me a question to see if I was paying attention. Apparently she wanted to catch me not following along, but, try as she did, I always seemed to have just the right answer at the right time even though I was very busy chatting with a neighbor classmate. Dear Betsy Hanak said to my mom, “Your Jody doesn’t miss a beat, does she? I bet she is going to be a bit of a multi-tasker when she grows up.” My mom was laughing as she relayed Mrs. Hanak's comment about me all of those years ago. Since that 2nd grade year she has, indeed, gotten to watch her oldest daughter multi-task a time or two.

Jessica is the third born and one of mom’s favorite memories of Jess was when in pre-school her teacher, Mrs. Cavanaugh, shared that she found herself in a bit of a pickle having Jessica in her classroom because every time the class had to pair up to cross the street or line up with a partner for an activity, everybody wanted to choose Jess to be their partner or buddy. Her classmates would literally argue and sometimes even cry over who got to hold Jess’ hand. This never surprised my mom (or me hearing this story yesterday) as Jess has always been a good friend to everyone and the friend everyone always wanted to call as their own.

Nicole is the “baby” of the four, but this number in birth order has never come close to defining her. She is one of the strongest, smartest, and most confident women I know. Appreciating my sister as much as I do today, Mom’s story about her might have tickled me the most. When Nicole was just a tiny little thing—maybe 6 or 7 months old—my mom, after bathing Nicole one evening, held her up in front of the mirror wrapped in her towel. Nicole looked at herself and then pointed at the mirror and said loudly and clearly her very first word, “Baby!” Though Nicole has always confidently known who she is, she also has never let a label define her, baby or not! My mom told us that Nicole talked early and often, not unlike her oldest sister. I bet Mrs. Hanak probably came close to throwing in the towel a little when many years later Nicole entered her 2nd grade classroom. Another talkative Seaman sister. No surprise that today Nicole is not only an avid reader and wonderful writer, but is also masterful in her use of vocabulary. Mrs. Hanak would be proud. Her oldest sister sure is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you’ve made it through these little stories about my siblings and me, thank you for reading. I write them to remind us all that even in difficult times, God is faithful to provide the kindest moments and the sweetest memories. Mom isn't remembering everything these days and so I am thankful she recalled these little childhood snip its. It was lovely getting the chance to hear her tell these particular stories on the short car ride back. A day like Mother's Day can be such a mixture of emotions. Like life, it encompasses so much. And so on this Monday afterward, I want to encourage us, regardless of the labor pains of life, to remember the joy available and abundant. 

Perhaps it is feeling as if "the hour has come" for you. You are in the heat of it. In the hot seat of anguish or grief or a grueling labor. But there will be a time where you will remember the good past and the good to come and joy will find you once again. 

“When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for JOY that a child is born into the world.” ~ John 16:21

 

 

 

No Greater Joy [Joy - Week 6]

“I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” ~ 3 John 4

Connor, our 4th born, is truly a family favorite! And this past weekend the whole crew gathered together in Birmingham, Alabama to celebrate his graduation from Samford University.

What a wonderful weekend. I’m not going to lie, watching Connor walk across the stage to receive his college diploma made my mama heart swell big time. Seriously, we are all so proud of him and his hard work. 

But later that night—After the ceremonies were over. After the dinner celebration had ended. After the gifts were given and the accolades issued. After the cap & gown were stuffed into the backseat of his pick up truck and the day wound down—Later that night, in bed, in the dark, and half asleep, I had my best JOY moment ever. 

Just before drifting off to sleep, I thought about my kids all there nestled under one roof for the night and I gave praise for God’s goodness gathering them together, but more importantly, gathering them to Him.

This young man who walked across the stage earlier that day to shake a hand and receive a degree, this young man walks with Jesus, as do his siblings.

The diplomas and awards and achievements my kids have earned over the years are all nice and worthy of celebration, but they absolutely pale in comparison to their relationships with Jesus.  

There is absolutely no greater joy than knowing they walk with Him. Nothing comes close. How can it possibly? We are talking about the difference between temporal and eternal. These accomplishments and achievements and gifts and gains are great and should be applauded, but they are only for the here and now. Someday they will be packed up in an attic or basement box and will begin to mildew or at the very least be completely forgotten. 

Like mine. This past winter I spent a good deal of time sorting through all of our boxes (and boxes and BOXES) of saved things. Mementos and memories and more stuff than any family should ever sanely accumulate. I came across my college diploma. And my high school and grade school diplomas too. And Rick's as well. I mean, honestly, what am I even supposed to do with these things?

In our storage area we have boxes from both of our parents and all of their parents and ourselves and our kids. It spans generations and generations. I could devote an entire room to family papers and mementos. A family records room of sorts! I’ve thought about it.

But at the end of the day, you and I both know we can’t take any of it with us in the end. It is just stuff.

It means something, sure. But not nearly enough. These things are for now, but they won’t get us to the finish line. Not even the fanciest of degrees.

So the real joy comes from knowing they are secure in Christ. They have placed their trust in Him. But please hear me--This is gratitude, not great boasting or bragging. I can boast of nothing. “But far be it from me to boast except in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me, and I to the world.” Galatians 6:14. There’s nothing to boast about, but Jesus. If anything, it is humbling. 

And though I have great joy knowing they profess Jesus, I can promise you that doesn’t mean it is pretty and perfect and all tied up in a nice package. Not. At. All. If you know the McNatts, you know we are also messy, messy, messy. My kids might follow Jesus, but they also fall and fail and falter. Just like their mom and dad.

Walking with Jesus does’t mean everything is easy and effortless. Nope, we struggle. We sin. We mess up. We mess up again and again and again. And that’s where His GRACE comes in. 

We don’t need a diploma on the wall in a fancy frame we need the divine dispensation of His love come down for us. Come down to give us real hope and a real future. 

It is available for all. There’s no prerequisites required. No classes or conditions needed. It is ready and waiting and completely free for anyone willing to walk across the stage of life and bow at the feet of Jesus. 

Sure my job as a mom was to launch them out of the nest and into adulthood, but make no mistake, my biggest and most important job was always to lead them, best I could, to Jesus. And as I fight for joy this year, I wanted to share this true celebration with you all.

One last thing I feel like I must add--maybe you have a child's who isn't walking with the Lord. Let me encourage you--God's got them. If they have a mother or father praying for them, He hears your prayers and He is doing a work. Let's choose to trust Him. His timing is perfect and His ways are most tender. He is the Good Shepherd who leaves the 99 and returns for the one. He is that Jesus. 

This week I invite you to memorize with me --

“I have no greater joy than to hear that my children are walking in the truth.” 

~ 3 John 4

Faces in the Dirt [Joy - Week 5]

“Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”  ~ Nehemiah 8:10

Recently I purchased these little note cards with this joy verse and the cute hummingbird. Kind of sweet, right? Nehemiah 8:10 is an old favorite, but I guess, I always thought it was just about my potential for strength through God’s production of joy. 

The Lord’s Joy = Jody’s Strength!

Such a good deal. And whereas this is true, it is only part of the story found in this not-so-often-read book of Nehemiah. There’s a bigger story worth hearing which leads us up to this well known verse.  And, for the record, it has absolutely nothing to do with hummingbirds. 

Before “the joy of the Lord is your strength” part we have 70 years of Babylonian captivity and afterward almost 8 chapters covering 52 dramatic days in which Nehemiah is leading the people to rebuild the demolished city walls of Jerusalem. It is a period of hard work, great struggle, and even a good bit of drama. The project probably feels endless. The task relentless. The people are tired. There is no HGTV filming anywhere in sight.

But finally it is finished. And everyone comes together for a dedication. Ezra, the priest and teacher, stands up on a wooden platform and reads out loud to the people from the Book of the Law of Moses.

Imagine them all gathered below. Like a modern day concert. Except instead of entertainment and music, Ezra reads the law from morning to noon. We are talking hours here, people. Everyone just standing and listening. I know if our pastor goes a few minutes past noon in his Sunday morning sermon we all get little fidgety in our comfy seats. 

But the people of Jerusalem stay put and they listen. And, what's more, they are incredibly moved to three responses:

First they lift their hands and respond, “Amen! Amen!”

Then they bow down and put their faces on the ground.

Finally, they weep.

I am not a Bible scholar. I don’t know all the ins and outs of what prompted these people to weep. But gosh, they had just finished this prodigious project of rebuilding a massive city wall and it seems they should have been dancing and eating and drinking. Clearly a time for some good old fashioned merry-making. 

If we move into a new house or finish a renovation project we invite our friends over and pop the bubbly. We party. We don’t put our faces on the ground and weep (that happens in the middle of the project). We rejoice and we revel in our completion.  We celebrate!

But the people of Jerusalem lift hands, bow down and weep. 

Why?

Well, it seems they are absolutely overcome by God’s word, overwhelmed by His goodness, and repentant over their own sin. Have you ever been there? I sure have. It isn't pretty.

They must be considering the months leading up to this moment of dedication. Like I said earlier, months filled with hard work, but also with great drama. The people were turning against one another. Pointing fingers, stealing food, cheating neighbors. There was in-fighting and definitely some out-fighting. At one point Nehemiah was forced to assign half the workers to stand guard as protectors with spears while the other half continued to build. In addition, there were at least a couple of plots against Nehemiah’s life. I wasn't there, but I’m telling you, from what I read, it was a hot mess of a project. 

Then all of a sudden it is finally finished. And the people gather at the Water Gate (not to be confused with Nixon) and God’s Word is read and the people begin to weep and grieve. Not just a few delicate tears on upturned faces, but faces down in the dirt. That kind of grieving. Ugly crying.

And instead of Ezra and Nehemiah shaming them and chastising them and reminding them what a troublesome lot they all were, they instead encourage them saying, “Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared. This day is holy to our Lord. Do not grieve, for the joy of the LORD is your strength.” Nehemiah 8:10

What a powerful display of God’s Word. How it can humble us when we stand before it. How it can take us right down to the ground in worship and weeping. BUT THEN bring us right back up to a place of joy. 

YES, the JOY of the Lord certainly IS our strength, but perhaps we must first see our shame, realize our need for repentance and bow humbly before this Lord who offers both joy and strength. 

In all of those crazy, dark days of rebuilding, Nehemiah kept turning to God. He kept praying. He kept asking the Lord to “strengthen his hands.” He kept leading the people with the help of God. Despite Nehemiah's faithful reliance on God, perhaps the people, though, didn’t quite get it until the project was over and then they found themselves overcome. They had to look back. They had to see it all complete. 

And they finally got it. And they grieved. 

Just like when we finally get it. When we realize how off course we’ve been and how little we deserve and what a hot mess we are. And then God says to us, do not grieve, the joy of the Lord is your strength. 

His Word becomes a most beautiful balm to our sad souls.

“I will take great delight in you! … I will rejoice over you with singing.” Zephaniah 3:17

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine.” Isaiah 43:1

Like I wrote last week, so often, blurry is the line between sorrow and joy. They coexist. Sorrow and joy are not opposites. In fact, I would go so far as to say the joyful follower of Christ is probably also more in tune with sorrow than those who don’t know Jesus. Jesus, the Man of Sorrows.  Isn't it true, the closer we come to God the more we see our own sin clearly?

We are more aware of our great sin and more aware of His greater grace. We are sorrowful. Full of sorrow. And yet, because of His unconditional and steadfast love and mercy, the joy is more abundant than ever.   

And it is this unexpected and undeserved joy that becomes our strength in times of hardship. 

In one of Tim Keller’s messages he says, “The opposite of joy is not sorrow, but hopelessness.” The people of Jerusalem see the rebuilt wall before them as they hear Ezra reading. Despite all of their issues and in-fighting, Nehemiah reminds them they have hope. Yes, they have sorrow for their wrongful actions, but they have hope and they can have joy … and ultimately these things bring them the strength of the Lord.

God did this thing that they could never have done. He rebuilt the wall. He is the wall around them. He remains their fortress. He is their Rock. He is our Rock. 

“The Lord is my rock, my fortress and my deliverer; my God is my rock,          in whom I take refuge.” ~ Psalm 18:2.  

This week, memorize this Nehemiah verse with me ... but remember the whole story!

“Do not grieve, for the joy of the Lord is your strength.”  Nehemiah 8:10

Fear + Joy [Joy - Week Four]

“So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.” ~ Matthew 28:8

Afraid … yet filled with joy. That’s the JOY phrase I’d love us to focus on this Monday morning after Easter. 

Matthew tells us that the Marys came to the tomb of Jesus that 3rd day and, to their surprise, found an angel and an empty grave instead of their Lord.

Make no mistake, these were the same precious Marys who wept at the foot of his cross watching Christ crucified. With their own eyes, they saw their beloved Jesus die a brutal death. The next day they were the same Marys at the tomb when his broken body was wrapped and placed within. These women who loved Jesus with all their heart, were right there for all of it. Every body-wrenching, horrific, hellbent moment.

I’m not sure we can even begin to understand their sorrow. Did they sleep or eat even one bite during these dark days? Did their eyes ever stop pouring forth tears? I imagine not. 

And then the third day they come again to the tomb only to find an angel kind of casually sitting upon the stone and whose “appearance was like lightning and his clothes were white as snow.” The bright light of him surely must have felt like daggers in their tear-soaked, tired eyes. He was the last thing they expected to see. This angel who then went on to calmly relay, “He is not here; he has risen, just as he said.” And because the angel knows these Marys are women and they are going to need proof of this, he continues, “Come and see the place where he lay.”

And the very next thing is a couple of Marys running out of the tomb and back into town full of both fear and joy. 

Fear and joy. Fear and joy. How can they possibly go together? Aren’t they seemingly opposed? Incongruous? Incompatible? 

And, yet, we know so often they do show up at the same time in our lives. Hand in hand. Like a couple of misfits.

Maybe, for the Marys, the fear was a bunch of what ifs …

What if the body of Jesus has been taken?

What if the angel is lying?

What if something even worse is about to happen?

But then this little seed of joy is somehow present and begins to grow in the midst of their fear and sorrow —

What if it’s true? 

What if Jesus has, indeed, risen? 

What if this casual, snowy-white angel is right?

Fear and joy. 

Oh, dear ones, this is the very same line we all seem to teeter upon all the time in our messy lives, is it not? Crossing back and forth between sorrow and joy. Between hope and fear. The lines blurry. The lines blend and bang and bump up against us and our fragile humanity. And even in the resurrection of Jesus — the greatest day, the most important moment of all time — we are given this example through the eyes of our dear Marys-----This! This is life here on earth. Uncertain. Unsure. Unconvinced. Unable to always know or see or predict or plan for.

A beautiful and bitter mix of sorrow and joy and fear and hope and it’s all tangled up together in a wild web and will be until the Lord returns and —

“everlasting joy will crown their heads. Gladness and joy will overtake them, and sorrow and sighing will flee away.” Isaiah 35:10

Oh how poignant this is in my own health journey. Right now it is a constant dance on an ever-moving, always-changing line. One bad report. One good. One day of sorrow. Another brings joy. All of it so temporary. The emotions so overwhelming and, honestly, exhausting. I can’t ever quite seem to get my footing. 

The pet scan report was so good on Friday, but we still have these very accurate and very worrisome blood results. The images look good, but the blood hints at something perhaps hiding and growing somewhere we can’t quite see. Unfortunately, that’s what my kind of cancer just happens to do. And so I want to rejoice and relax, oh heavens, yes I do! And yet, after communicating with my doctor on Friday afternoon, I know vigilance is the name of this game. We cannot take our eye off the ball of this blasted cancer.

And some days, the fatigue feels almost crushing. Like I’m on the edge and constantly looking over. I'm so tired from looking over the edge. Maybe you're on an edge in your life too. Maybe you are running out of an empty tomb a little bewildered and a little bedraggled. Eyes red from constant crying. Body tired from lack of rest. Unsure what it all means. Afraid, yet, strangely, somehow, recognizing this seed of joy. Unable to fully understand. But running. Hoping. Hoping and running.

Kate Bowler in her book No Cure for Being Human wrote “you can’t live on the edge of the abyss forever.” And maybe that’s true, but we sure as heck do need some helping backing away from it. If there’s an edge in our lives we simply can’t help ourselves from staring over it, can we?

So I guess that’s what I’m writing about today. The permission for us all to fully realize life doesn’t exist in tidy boxes or well-labeled lanes. It’s not all joy or all sorrow or all this or all that. It’s everything. Mixed together. Mixed up and messy. That’s how we live in our current human curable or incurable state. 

That's how we live until that crown of everlasting joy is placed upon our head and all sorrow and sighing flees away. 

And that is why we can claim joy today regardless of the messy emotions and circumstances which circle around it. We have joy, because we have hope. Amen. 

This week, memorize with me and remember the Marys running out of the tomb ---

“So the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy, and ran to tell his disciples.” ~ Matthew 28:8

Good News on Good Friday

Years ago I wrote a post called "When Bad Weeks End With Good Friday." That was the week I was first diagnosed with breast cancer. Fourteen years ago. April 19th, 2011.

I feel like I could use that same title again today. 

Yes! We did, indeed, get good news on this Good Friday. My results returned today and the scan looked good---No evidence of new disease and the spots that we've been concerned about actually showed some decrease. In fact, the one spot in my spine (L2/L5) wasn't even mentioned in the report. Why not? Where did it go? Did it not show up at all? My oncologist said she's going to check on that for me. But bottom line---the scan exceeded our expectations. Praise the Lord!

We aren't really sure what to do about those bad blood results I've been racking up lately (signatera). My doctor is working on that for me as well. We know lobular breast cancer is sneaky and it likes to hide in weird places in the body, but I am choosing to not worry about that tonight. Tonight I am simply praising God for the good news of a scan that honestly looks the best we've seen since I began this stage 4 journey three years ago. 

I have to tell you it was kind of a crazy day. The results came in just as I was getting ready to leave for the Good Friday service at our church with my Bible study girlfriends. After telling Rick and a quick text to our kids and family I walked into church and was able to share my good news with these dear friends who have been in the trenches with me. Then we squeezed into the last four empty seats in the packed out auditorium and worshipped Jesus together. Emotional doesn't begin to describe it.

Why has God a couple of different times connected my cancer journey to this week before Easter? Why does a Holy Week have to be such a hard week? I have an awful lot of thoughts on that. Probably more than you want to read on a Friday night. But to be brief, let me say at least this ---Good Friday. It really is the day that makes all the difference especially when we are walking through darkness. Jesus knows. He, the Son of God--The Actual Light of the World--He chose to endure the awful cross for us so we could face our future. No matter our diseases or diagnoses or disasters. His blood shed on Calvary paid every penalty and His resurrection from the tomb promises us all new life. No matter what. 

It really is a good Good Friday.

Finally, thank you for your many prayers and encouragement. It all means so much. Words can hardly express. I know you've got to be tired of hearing from me. I wish this cancer business would all just go away and I could focus on important things like what I'm growing in my garden or how cute my granddaughter is. I mean I try to strike a balance (lol). The truth is, this is my new normal, and unless Jesus completely intervenes, it probably will be forever. And though I get mad and sad and angry and afraid I am going to keep proclaiming the name of Jesus. He is High and Lifted Up. And He gets all the glory. 

"I will not die, but live, 

and will proclaim what the Lord has done." 

~ Psalm 118:24

Gratitude

In anticipation of my scan today (2pm), my sweet friend, Sue, created a prayer “sign up genius” earlier this week. I opened the link yesterday and found all kinds of friends — old and new (plus some names I didn’t even know) had filled the slots and were praying for me around the clock this week. What? Amazing, right? Insert crying face emoji.

Cancer doesn’t give a whole lot of good stuff, but THAT, my friends, is the VERY best of it. I felt immediately overwhelmed with the love and steadfastness of those around me. It is a physical lifting or buoyancy when we know we are being carried through hard things with prayer. Yep, hard stuff is going to come. Whether we follow Jesus or we don’t, we can all be assured life will bring some degree of difficulty. But when we have Jesus and His family acting as His hands, we get the joy of being carried through the hard. We are lifted up and carried above the pain of life. And that is all the difference. 

My whole life I have heard [and often used] the phrase “lifting you up in prayer,” but I probably don't always stop to think about how perfect a phrase it is. Yesterday opening up that link to the prayer sign up and seeing all those names listed was truly a sense of what it feels like to be LIFTED UP. 

It is also a tremendous humbling. I am humbled by the thought that people would take an hour of time to specifically pray for me and my family as we face yet another go around this week. Like I said, not a whole lot of good stuff with cancer, but I will never be able to call the Body of Christ serving and supporting and praying and lifting us anything but good. It is beyond good. It is a game-changer. A grace. A gift. And it leads me to humility and a heart of gratitude. 

This week I've received so many loving messages from you, dear ones. Your prayers, scripture passages and songs have all been such a great encouragement. Thank you for taking the time to send. You have lifted me up and brought joy. I am grateful.

My friend, Jane, sent me a link to one of my favorite songs and it kind of sums up where I am today as I prepare to head to my scan. 

Take a listen if you have a minute. You can click on this link:  Gratitude - by Brandon Lake

All my words fall short

I got nothing new

How could I express

All my gratitude?

I could sing these songs

As I often do

But every song must end

And You never do

So I throw up my hands

And praise You again and again

'Cause all that I have is a hallelujah

Hallelujah

And I know it's not much

But I've nothing else fit for a King

Except for a heart singing hallelujah

Hallelujah

I've got one response

I've got just one move

With my arm stretched wide

I will worship You

So I throw up my hands

And praise You again and again

'Cause all that I have is a hallelujah

Hallelujah

And I know it's not much

But I've nothing else fit for a King

Except for a heart singing hallelujah

Hallelujah

So come on, my soul

Oh, don't you get shy on me

Lift up your song

'Cause you've got a lion inside of those lungs

Get up and praise the Lord.

A Joyful Noise [Joy - Week Three]

“Oh come, let us a sing to the Lord; 

let us make a JOYFUL NOISE to the Rock of our Salvation.” 

Psalm 95:1

I'm a little late posting my Monday morning JOY message, but I am just getting home from a few days in New Orleans —the City of Music—with my daughters, Emily and Sarah, and my granddaughter, Mimi Grace. What a treat! 

At 19 months, Mimi is the absolute embodiment of a “joyful noise!”  We pretty much sang and danced our way through each day together. When music enters the scene, Mimi’s little face lights up and it doesn’t take much to get her hands clapping and her tiny feet stomping. 

This girl is happy AND she knows it! 

We sang in the kitchen and in the car. We sang in the backyard and in the bath tub. There were spontaneous dance parties in the family room and Sunday we even got to listen to a jazz musician playing his saxophone in the park. 

Honestly, it’s exactly what her grandma (Birdy) needed this week. There is something so health-bringing in a small child’s abandonment and energy especially when it comes to music.

My very favorite was hearing Mimi sing “Jesus Loves Me.” She’s not getting all the words quite yet, but she sings the ones that mostly count. Mimi’s version goes something like this:

“Jesus … Jesus … Jesus. Loves. Bible … Bible … Bible.”

Yep, that’s pretty much perfect in my book. And so true -- Jesus and His Word.  

As I headed home earlier today I wasn't allowed to pack up my little music-loving Mimi  and bring her back with me, but, you can be sure, I am following her lead and taking home her reminder to keep making joyful noises. 

To keep making music even in this week facing more scans.  (PET scan is Thursday).

Music releases something wonderful within us and I know it’s an important part of my search for joy right now. Though I’m not much a singer, I am grateful God has given me a deep love for the piano. I play most every day. But don’t be surprised if you stop over and find me marching around my kitchen banging a pot and singing at the top of my lungs, “If You’re Happy and You Know it!”  

So, friends, sing with me and memorize this week’s JOY verse in honor of my sweet granddaughter, Mimi: 

“Oh come, let us a sing to the Lord; let us make a joyful noise to the Rock of our Salvation.” Psalm 95:1

"The song of rejoicing softens hard hearts. It makes tears of godly sorrow flow from them. Singing summons the Holy Spirit. Happy praises offered in simplicity and love lead the faithful to complete harmony, without discord. Don't stop singing."  ~ Hildegard von Bingen

baby brother coming in June!

Good Medicine [JOY - Week Two]

"A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." 

~ Proverbs 17:22

some blooms from my late March yard

I love this week’s verse for a couple of reasons. First off, the good medicine part gives me a chance to explain a few things about how we are treating my cancer. And since several of you are asking and I am a teacher at heart, I will take a few words to explain.

Thankfully I have been on the same “first line” of treatment since my MBC diagnosis in 2022. We like that. But with my signatera numbers increasing (the bad news last week) that might point to progression of cancer and that might dictate a medication change. Sticking hard right now to the operative word MIGHT. We hope not, but we have to see what the April 17th scan shows. 

If cancer starts to outsmart my current treatment, we pivot. Definitely not putting the cart before the horse though because changing meds is a big deal. This is a long game and there aren’t that many different treatments. And treatment never ends. Yes, we are hopeful for more on the horizon and more research taking place all the time, but bottom line—I only have so many tools in the tool box. So we want to get every drop out of each protocol for as many months and years as possible. 

Secondly, I’m on the easy (relatively speaking) stuff right now. Each treatment becomes progressively harder on my body. I’m so grateful to have felt (mostly) good and have lived (mostly) normal these past three years. We want more of that. 

Remember the old game Whack A Mole? Treating my disease is a lot like that. Cancer pops up and we have to use the hammers to whack it back down. I kind of love this funny analogy. I also, by the way, love to hammer things in general though it does tend to make my family a tad nervous. At some point our medicine-hammer grows ineffective and we’ll need to pull out another. Thankfully, there are more hammers. They just get heavier and harder to handle. That’s a bit simplistic, but I wanted to make sure those of you following closely know, the rising numbers in my blood results don’t mean I am out of options. Oh no, dear ones, we are only getting going here. We have a tool box and we will use it all. And we will whack the heck out of those pesky moles for as long as God allows. At some point I might need your help holding the hammers. I am grateful for all of your offers already. You guys are amazing. 

I hope that explanation helps.

But now let’s talk about the verse we are memorizing this week from Proverbs, "A joyful heart is good medicine, but a crushed spirit dries up the bones." 

What a clear picture God gives us! A joyful heart is good medicine. It is health bringing and life sustaining. It improves everything around us for everyone around us. When there is joy there is life. Joy has often been called contagious. It is clearly captivating. It is always encouraging. 

We seek it. We search for it. We desire it deeply. Who doesn’t want to be around a joyful person? It draws us in. It spurs us on. It inspires us to be better, do better, want better. Like everyone says—it’s contagious. 

We feel good in the presence of joy. It is literally medicine for our weary, world-burdened souls. 

And yet sometimes in the difficulties of life we walk around with crushed spirits more than we do captivating joy. And isn’t it true that this internal crushing of spirit directly impacts our outer physical selves? When we are depressed or distraught or anxious or angry it can literally cause our bodies to be sick. To feel heavy. To feel like a hot mess. To hurt. To hurt others even. Have you ever been there? I certainly have.

A crushed spirit dries up the bones. With breast cancer currently setting up shop in my bones, these words have my full attention. I am doing all kinds of things to help strengthen and protect my skeleton. I try to eat right and exercise for strength and every few months I am even given an infusion called Zometa to keep my bones as strong as possible. Zometa is an IV medication which requires me to sit for an hour or so in a large chemotherapy center of my hospital. If you’ve ever been in this kind of room it isn’t the most joyful place. It is very much a bone-crushing, heart-wrenching sort of place. I think there are over 100 chairs in my location and often they are all full. 

That’s the reality of cancer. But over these past three years of going to the chemo room I have on so many occasions bumped into someone who oozes joy. And, let me tell you, it is just amazing to see. Humbling. Heart-thumping. Breath-catching. Especially in a place like this. It stands out. It stands up. It stands true. It stands! Even in the midst of all these beaten up bodies and broken down spirits, joy is a beacon of light. Maybe even hope. 

In a weird way, finding joy in the chemo room reminds me of my time spent in a little village in Ndola, Zambia years ago. My first morning there I attended their tiny village church. The area scattered around it felt bereft, broken-down, dusty, hot, fly-infested and seemingly held together by scraps of discarded materials. Some of the children barefoot and barely clothed. The people tired looking and lean. It was like nothing I had ever before seen and yet the Sunday service started and that was when the never-before-seen-surprise truly became clear. I couldn’t hardly understand a word of what was being preached or sung, but I can tell you it was the language of joy. The worship was at a level of joy unparalleled since. I will never forget the faces of my new friends in rapturous praise. The music. The intensity. The sincerity. The love of our Father transcends all language. I was changed that morning in a hot, dusty church in the middle of Africa.The Bemba words might have been indistinguishable, but the message was clear as bright day--Joy. 

If I can find joy in people in places like these—harsh chemo rooms and destitute villages—how can we not find it and choose it in our more comfortable places as well.  We can take the good medicine. We can bring life back to our bones and courage to our crushed spirits. We can with the help of Jesus. He is not limited to the lovely. He came for the sick. He came for the broken. He came for the beaten up and badly bruised. He came for the sinner. He came for the person who sees themselves as a lost cause. 

Jesus said, “It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." Mark 2:17

Read that again. Do you hear the good news of this verse? There is nothing which can separate us from the joy of Jesus. 

There is no need to clean ourselves up or even get our ducks all lined up. No. He didn’t come for clean people with perfect ducks. The healthy do not need a doctor. The perfect people don’t need a Savior. He came for the sick and the sinful. And that, my friends, is all of us. And He wants to heal with the good news which is joy. Don’t wait. Ask Him for it even right now. Today. 

Memorize with me Proverbs 17:22. Meditate upon it. Marinate in it this week. 

Allow yourself the infusion of His joy. 

The medicine of our Messiah.

And live.  

But What if the Morning Doesn't Bring Joy?

"Weeping may tarry for the night, BUT joy comes in the morning." ~ Psalm 30:5

That's been our verse this week. Our JOY verse to memorize, meditate upon, and marinate our weary souls in. 

And I believe it. I believe it is true. I believe it is a promise of our True God.

But [still] I have to ask the hard question some of us want to ask --- 

What if the morning doesn't bring joy? 

What if wake up in our new day and the news isn't good? Or that phone call comes? Or the pink slip is given? Or the drugs are found? Or the loved one is sick? Or the marriage is gone?

What then? 

What happens when THAT is what our morning looks like?

Well, if you're willing to read on a bit, I can tell you from my experience.

I had no sooner posted that verse and invited y'all on a joy journey at the beginning of this week, when my blood results dropped their sorry selves into my portal early Monday morning. I woke up ready for that "joy comes in the morning" feeling, but instead came news that my blood work is continuing to trend toward cancer's progression. 

Quick cancer explanation: doctors are following me with a new test called Signatera. It is new science, very accurate and very sensitive as it tests my blood and compares it to my original tumor. It measures  the shedding of cancer cells per molecules of bloodn (ctDNA). It can basically see cancer progressing even before appearing on a scan. It's helpful information, but so new, that doctors aren't even quite sure what to do with it. I had several negatives early on, but the past several months have shown positive. More on this later.

Anyway, the news was not at all what we hoped for. My number actually took a big jump up. Cancer is brewing. I've been pretty stable for 3 years and the cancer has appeared to stay sleepy, but these results are pointing to new growth or activation. Not at all what we wanted. The doctors will move up my scans --- April 17th I will have a PET scan and we will take a closer look.

So that's that business. 

But back to joy. I know some of you want to know what is Jody going to claim she believes now? Maybe a few of you are wondering what in the world did I just encourage you to all sign up for? 

Yeah, I get it. I know how you feel.  I had that discussion with God right away Monday morning. It went something like this, "Lord, I want to pursue joy. I do. I want to chase it each day and share it with others. I want to live glorifying Your Name. But you're making it kind of hard here. You gave me this plan and then you've kind of blown it up right out of the gate. You told me JOY was to be my word this year, even though I refused it at first. You were relentless. But now this? Journey to joy and yet Jody gets bad news right off the bat of acknowledging her need for joy. What the heck is that all about? What am I supposed to do with that nonsense now?"

And, like He so often does, He whispered His words tenderly into my broken and sad spirit---Jody, my daughter, this isn't Me dropping the ball. This isn't Me turning my back on you. This is Me pointing you to a deeper truth, a deeper trust, a deeper treasure. Trust me. Trust me. Trust me. I love you. 

Even though I was still kind of mad and sad, I told Him I would continue to trust Him. I know it is what I must do. Even with this disappointing news. Even now. Even this.

In the words of holocaust survivor Corrie ten Boom: "Joy runs deeper than despair." 

And over the past few days God continues to remind me about what joy is and isn't---

Joy isn't something that happens when everything is going great. 

Joy isn't something that occurs only when the news is good and the results are what we want.

Joy isn't only for days of sunshine. It is found in storms as well. 

Joy isn't dependent on our circumstances or our current situation or the status of our personal lives.

I know I've shared this before, but I can't help keep coming back to the wise words of Elisabeth Elliott. "The secret of JOY is Christ in me--not me in a different set of circumstances."   

Being dealt a better hand of cards isn't where joy is to be found. But that lesson is SO hard to learn.  For all of us. It is easy to find ourselves living in the world of "if onlies."   If only I was happily married. If only I had more children. If only I had less children (sorry, =) that was for the sake of humor). If only I had a better job or a bigger bank account or a nicer house. If only I was thinner, prettier, smarter, richer, taller, stronger ... If only I didn't have debt, addiction, anxiety, cancer.

When God breathed Psalm 30:5 through the quill of David, "Joy comes in the morning," He was using a metaphor to remind us that this night or season or situation will pass and joy will come. Yes, dear ones,  joy WILL come. When we follow our Father and trust His hand, joy IS absolutely our end result whatever the results are right now. It is a joyful hope we are given to hold close as we walk closely with Him. 

The joy is in the beautiful expectation of what He is doing and what He will do. 

Tim Keller, said these wise words,  "for a Christian joy is always on the way, because the one in charge of us and in charge of our whole universe is our Father."  

Joy isn't a perfect life. Nowhere did Jesus promise that. In fact, it was quite the opposite. "In this world you WILL have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world." John 16:33 

Right now while living in this broken world  -- Trouble!

Right now while living in this busted up life  -- Weeping.

But someday ... FULL and PERFECT JOY. 

But hear me, that doesn't mean we can't experience real joy in some way right now. We can and He wants us to chase it. He wants us to pursue a life closer to Him so He can show us real joy EVEN in the midst of real hard life. It's not going to be the joy of heaven. We are going to wake up some Monday mornings and get bad news, but because we get to trust in Him and walk with Him there will be real joy found even in real life. Even when the weeping continues on and into our mornings. 

Joy is coming.

Let's keep chasing it.  

Rick sent me that beautiful bouquet of florals on Monday after we received the not so nice news.
The flowers are gorgeous, but his message on the card is most precious. 

"Jesus did not promise to change the circumstances around us. He promised great peace and pure joy to those who would learn to believe that God actually controls all things." ~ Corrie ten Boom