To God be the Glory

This is long story but bear with me. I want to speak up and share our story of the last few months as I feel it is unique and glorifying to God to be shared in full. We found out that we were expecting our third baby sometime in late August of this year. Knowing that pregnancy was a possibility and yet wanting to take medicine for a headache, I decided to take a pregnancy test while we were out on a date that night. And…surprise, it was positive! So, no meds that night, but I didn’t care. I was over the moon. We both were. Trying to make it through the corny movie we had already paid for after that was a challenge. Haha.

Fast forward a few days, and I was having mild pain, which I figured I would fill my doctor in on. At the time I wasn’t worried as this was common to my other two pregnancies, but I figured that I would play it safe. I left a message, and by the time they called me back they were about to close and couldn’t see me, so they suggested that I go to the ER to get looked at. I was annoyed because I wasn’t trying to make a night out of it, but I complied and went anyway.

To summarize the visit, it was a disaster. I went in for right-sided pain that ended up not being addressed when they did an exploratory ultrasound. The reason was that they had found something suspicious on my left side that couldn’t be ruled out as a possible ectopic pregnancy (which means there is a pregnancy growing in the wrong place), even though it was too early to be certain. Upon this discovery, the recommendations started flying with the least drastic being to follow up with my OB in a few days. Confused and dumbfounded, we left with heavy hearts and waited to hear what the doctor would say in a few days.

Two days later, I followed up with my doctor who wasted no time telling me what my options were. The assumption was that there was no doubt that this was an ectopic pregnancy even though I was only five weeks or so, and if I didn’t act now my tube could rupture and I could bleed out. Did I want to take a pill that would cause me to miscarry? Did I want to have surgery to remove the suspicious blob in my left fallopian tube and remove all contents of my uterus with it? Or did I want to be conservative and have surgery to see what was happening on the left while keeping what was growing in my uterus. I felt God lead me in that moment to not be quick to rid myself of what was so uncertain at the time, and I chose the third and most conservative route. However, after feeling bullied toward a certain decision, we went to Philadelphia for a second opinion.

After two long visits to the same hospital, we were told in no uncertain terms that this pregnancy would absolutely not turn into anything. We were told that it was not a baby but the product of conception, which could be anything at this stage, and in this case an empty gestational sac. The doctor asked if we wanted to stay and have the procedure performed that night while mentioning that if she performed it, she would just go ahead and take everything at once. After determining with the doctor that my life was not in immediate danger, God gave my husband and I wisdom again to hold out a little longer because I already had the exploratory surgery scheduled for two days from then.   

The surgery came and went and you know what??? They didn’t find anything suspicious in my left fallopian tube, and so they left everything where it was. We had a little glimmer of hope. Cue tons of follow up blood work and ultrasounds and a follow up from my doctor again. During the visit, she went over the symptoms of miscarriage and informed me that it wasn’t likely that anything would form after surgery. Repeat ultrasound number one; the tech couldn’t see anything. The sac was still empty. Ten days later was repeat ultrasound number two and our last chance to hold out before the doctor would want to intervene again. I got to the dim room and my world stood still. 

Up to this point my husband and I had kept some key people and family in the loop and had been prayed for on top of all the praying and seeking God we had done ourselves. We talked on our way to this ultrasound and reaffirmed that we were there for each other. I was prepared to say goodbye that day (to what was always a baby to me) if the Lord had again decided that He wanted to display His glory in my life by having me walk through something really hard. He had in a lot of other parts of my story. However, I had decided that no matter what I would not hold my heart back from Him in bitterness. I had built too much history with God up that point to even entertain the thought that He wasn’t good, even in this. I had just finished a huge chunk of the Old Testament as well and was reminded that often when God came through in the biggest ways, He first allowed every man-made attempt to fall short. When it looked as if all the odds were against His people and they were staring at their enemies, BOOM! He came through. No one was able to deny that it was all God. I prayed with that in mind and humbly asked for a miracle this time.

I laid there on the table and didn’t try to look at the monitor and figured I would just wait. She moved the wand around and took a lot of pictures in silence, but right before she moved on to check some more specific things she said, “Oh, and so you aren’t worried, there is your baby, and there is the heartbeat.” WHAT?! I couldn’t believe it. She immediately started to print a bunch of pictures. There on the screen was the most beautiful flicker I had ever seen. Joel squeezed my hand and we cried. 

Once things slowed down and I was able to process a little more what had happened, I was floored again. It wasn’t even just by the fact that God had worked a miracle for me (which is no small thing) but the realization that nothing in my life had been wasted. I got to reap some of the fruit of following Him into all the previous difficult parts of my story. He had shown me that before just by the immediate perspective that comes from being on the other side, but it was different and new in this experience. Amongst the tears of uncertainty and pain of bad news, there was always an undercurrent of peace and strength from years worth of testing and getting to know His vast and mysterious goodness. I am not blessed just when I receive everything I want. Everything up until now has been worked out to bless me and bring God glory. He has and continues to dig deep trenches in my heart that increase my capacity to receive more from Him. To God be all the glory! I am now 17 weeks.

--Sophia Howard

What is Worship About?

I had a conversation recently with someone about worship music.  They were talking about how worship music, whether in church or on the radio, makes them feel good and lifts their spirits on a bad day.  Since the early 90’s, worship music has been big.  Big in evangelical churches, big for Christian artists, big on Christian radio, and big for Christian music labels.  The lines have blurred where concerts have become worship events, and church services have become impressive performances.  I know I’m not the only one thinking it, but I’ll say it.  I don’t quite get it.

Maybe it’s my analytical nature, or my often-skeptical way of looking at things, but does anyone else feel a little uneasy about paying $25 for a ticket to see a famous performer in an arena worship Jesus?  Perhaps all that money is going to charity and not into making the performer rich, I get that.  And this is not so much a critique of the industry or the big names, but the fact that it even is an industry gives me pause.  Industries arise to fill needs.  Whose needs?  I don’t think it’s God’s needs, so it must be our needs.

And I know it makes you feel good, I’m not disputing that.  I often enjoy Sunday worship with its collective appeals to the truth of the gospel or its call of yearning for the presence of God.  But I have been in situations where I feel like a spectator, where the singer, between songs, will say random breathy god-isms with no context or meaning, or an emotive change of key seems to magically usher in the Spirit, and I can’t help but thinking… is this all about me?  Am I supposed to be the center of my worship experience?  Do we consume worship music simply because it makes us feel good? 

If I sound a little harsh, I apologize.  This is not intended to be a treatise on the evils of worship; far from it.  What I am attempting to do, ahead of this season of Advent, is to unmarry our tendencies toward consumerism with our experience of worship.  Worship is about one thing, be it through study, song, or prayer, and that one thing isn’t me.  My experience does not determine the quality of the event.

Throughout this holiday season, I will try to bear in mind that it is not primarily about me.  If I worship through giving, it’s not so I feel good.  If I worship through singing, it’s not for the emotional high.  Those things can be secondary effects, but making God the center of worship is what worship is about. 

--Jeff Hyson

The Thanksgiving Stand-off

“Are you sure it’s done?” Daddy asked, doubtfully. My mother was clearly annoyed. She angrily jabbed the turkey with her big cooking fork and a pink-tinged liquid dribbled down the golden breast and into the roaster. Tension filled the air. It was a Thanksgiving stand-off. I held my breath.

“I think it needs to cook a little longer,” Daddy said, quietly.

“It’s done,” my mom insisted, tersely. “I read somewhere that if a turkey leg can be easily pulled off, the turkey is done.” To illustrate, she grabbed a hot leg with a pot holder and yanked it. It didn’t budge. Embarrassed, but too proud to admit defeat, she wrapped two hands around the leg and strained with all her might to remove it from the rest of the bird. Not just pink-tinged liquid oozed out now; it was clearly bloody. Mom didn’t seem to notice, and I tried not to gag. She was adamant. That turkey was ready to be carved.

With a final tug for good measure, the stubborn leg snapped, propelling the roasting pan, half-cooked turkey and all, along the table top and onto the floor with a fearful crash!  The hapless turkey took one big bounce and skittered across the linoleum.

I’ve never seen my dad react to anything so quickly. In warp speed, he scooped up the sizzling turkey, wiped the bottom with a dish towel that magically appeared from the drawer, and set it on the waiting platter with a bang. “Well,” he replied, gently, his back to us as he turned to the sink. He ran cold water on his already-blistering hands. “You’re the cook.”

Our mouths hanging open in wonder, my mom and I glanced incredulously at each other. What had just happened? We stooped to mop up the spattered turkey grease that dripped from everything in the tiny kitchen. Mom began to sob uncontrollably. In response, Daddy knelt beside us with a rag. He patted my mom’s back tenderly. He looked over at me, huddled with them on the slippery floor and said, evenly, “We’ll keep this to ourselves, won’t we.” It was not a question.

Tension diffused. Battle averted. Stand-off over.  

That messy, cozy kitchen, overflowing with delightful aromas and steamy warmth, was suddenly filled with an incredible, almost tangible, peace.

The bird went back in the oven. Dinner was late. And the turkey still wasn’t cooked.

Later, I sat at the crowded table with our once-a-year family, doubling up on the savory stuffing and creamy mashed potatoes. I hoped no one noticed I had skipped the meat. Looking at my parents at the other end of the table, chatting and smiling, I felt an incredible warmness spread through me. I couldn’t have named or explained it right then, but it felt…wonderful. I think I had just been given a first-hand, real-live glimpse of grace.

It could have been a very embarrassing day for my mom. The kitchen could have become a war zone with more casualties than the turkey. Or it could have become the North Pole, filled with icy looks and cold shoulders. What could have been a miserable holiday for all of us, was, instead, instantly transformed into a delightful, memorable, and hilarious family story we still love to share more than fifty years later. What a special Thanksgiving blessing! I will always be grateful.

I’ve wondered through the years about that grace, the unearned and undeserved favor Dad poured out all over my frazzled mom that chaotic Thanksgiving morning. Had he not been the recipient of that same kind of grace from the heavenly Father, would he have been able to so freely and quickly extend it to Mama? I personally don’t think so.

Because my dad understood how much the Father had showered grace on him— a willful, sinful man—he had the capacity, ability, and the desire to do the same for my mother. The grace of God that had saved him had also instructed him to live in a new way; a way consistent with the character of the God Who now resided in him. Over and over, God’s grace had expressed itself to my dad in the forms of love, kindness, gentleness, patience, self-control…and that is what he was able to pour on my mom. That beautiful grace birthed peace in our home. We all felt it. Our greased up, slimy kitchen had become a cathedral that Thanksgiving morning. And God Himself was our guest.

He didn’t care that the turkey wasn’t done.

May that same grace and peace be with you and yours this Thanksgiving Day.

Won’t you, won’t I, be thankful?

--Eileen Hill

What Our Eyes See Is Often Not The Big Picture

Let me start by saying that what the title of this blog does not imply is that this is one of those things we often realize after the fact, not when in the middle of it.

I remember before my wife and I got married, we were faced with the possibility of not being able to have children of our own. This possibility however did not deter us from entering our marriage covenant. We were confident at that time that God had a purpose for our relationship and that He would give us the wisdom and grace to navigate what may come ahead of us in terms of having a family. It was not until almost nine years after our official marriage that God brought a wonderful nine year old girl into our lives to become our daughter! Not certainly what we saw back around the time of our engagement. I can also say this is not what we saw when we had a miscarriage or when family services approved us as we considered adopting a child. What we saw was certainly not the big picture!

In these days, as I read the biblical story of a special lady called Esther, I see that what she and her uncle Mordecai saw in the moment was not the big picture either. Esther was taken away from her tiny family and was enlisted among the virgins to enter the unofficial queen contest, or if not chosen, to perhaps become one of the king’s concubines. Well, I say you should read the rest of the story to learn about the many moments, some marked with high-level risks, which led to Esther becoming a queen at a time when her people, the Jews, where going to be destroyed by the king’s edict. What Mordecai and Esther did not see at some earlier point is that God would use her to deliver her people from being destroyed.

What are you seeing with your eyes in these days? What brings you fear or hopelessness? What leaves you empty or discouraged? What is eclipsing the preferable future God has promised to you? Be honest; I am sure there is something challenging or blocking some of your life’s expectations.

As you reflect in these questions, I encourage you to lean on stories like Esther’s. Not because the story lines are cool or intriguing. But rather because the one who wrote her story had a bigger picture in mind, and He is the one also writing the storylines of your life. I like one expectation God clearly sets before us in 2 Corinthians 3:18. Here the apostle Paul states:

“And we all, with unveiled face, beholding the glory of the Lord, are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another. For this comes from the Lord who is the Spirit.”

So even though you and I do not see the big picture today, God is really moving us from one degree of glory to another degree of glory. As we fix our hope in Jesus, we are guaranteed to obtain what is of most good and value. So don’t allow your eyes to trick you!

--Diego Cuartas