This is what we sang in church this morning. It is from the hymn “Christ Be My Leader”:
Christ be my leader in age as in youth
Drifting or doubting, for He is the Truth.
Grant me to trust Him; though shifting as sand,
Doubt cannot daunt me; in Jesus I stand.
I like this whole hymn, but I thought this verse really illustrated the differences between being young and being, well…older. I am watching my son and his wife as they look for a condo or a house, my daughter as she seeks to find a life post-divorce. I remember drifting and doubting. Could we afford the house? Was it the right one? What if the lay-off (and there were many) lasted too long? How would we make the payments? I knew that God wanted the best for me, but what if there wasn’t anyone out there who wanted to marry me? How would He fulfill that longing that I had from a very early age?
Truth be told, I still drift and doubt. Quite a bit, more than I should. But I am much better at coming back to the anchor, Jesus. At least I think I am. This looking to Jesus earlier can be best illustrated by two conversations I had with my friend Martha on Friday.
Martha is a blessing to me. Her spiritual light shines in a way that you don’t see very often, and she can quote a Bible verse, without knowing what the problem is in your heart of hearts, that will pierce through to your soul. I am humbled by her faith, and I hope I get there some day.
Martha doesn’t call very often, but she did on Friday. I was glad to hear from her, but I could tell that something big was on her mind. Turns out it was her Army son. He was to ship out to Iraq on Thursday, and she wanted to go to Kentucky to see him, but her car was not in working order. He was set to ship out for a year and a half, and this would be his second tour of duty in Iraq. I knew that weighed heavily on her spirit, although she never came out and said it. My son just completed his service in the Marines. She knew I would understand.
Interestingly, the turn the conversation took was the cancer Martha dealt with this year. She is now cancer-free, but she told me how she wasn’t worried and enumerated the times she could already have died but hadn’t. Obviously, it wasn’t her time. I was interested. She was actually ejected from a car when she was two, in those pre-car seat days, and the car rolled over on her. Obviously, she was fine. Why? Angels were at work, and her little two-year-old body ended up in a depression, a hole just big enough to protect her from the weight of the car. She said that she figured her time had not come yet, but when it did she was ready to go. She wondered if that was fatalistic. Both of us knew we were talking about more than her. We were talking about her son.
This is what we sang in church this morning. It is from the hymn “Christ Be My Leader”:
Christ be my leader in age as in youth
Drifting or doubting, for He is the Truth.
Grant me to trust Him; though shifting as sand,
Doubt cannot daunt me; in Jesus I stand.
I like this whole hymn, but I thought this verse really illustrated the differences between being young and being, well…older. I am watching my son and his wife as they look for a condo or a house, my daughter as she seeks to find a life post-divorce. I remember drifting and doubting. Could we afford the house? Was it the right one? What if the lay-off (and there were many) lasted too long? How would we make the payments? I knew that God wanted the best for me, but what if there wasn’t anyone out there who wanted to marry me? How would He fulfill that longing that I had from a very early age?
Truth be told, I still drift and doubt. Quite a bit, more than I should. But I am much better at coming back to the anchor, Jesus. At least I think I am. This looking to Jesus earlier can be best illustrated by two conversations I had with my friend Martha on Friday.
Martha is a blessing to me. Her spiritual light shines in a way that you don’t see very often, and she can quote a Bible verse, without knowing what the problem is in your heart of hearts, that will pierce through to your soul. I am humbled by her faith, and I hope I get there some day.
Martha doesn’t call very often, but she did on Friday. I was glad to hear from her, but I could tell that something big was on her mind. Turns out it was her Army son. He was to ship out to Iraq on Thursday, and she wanted to go to Kentucky to see him, but her car was not in working order. He was set to ship out for a year and a half, and this would be his second tour of duty in Iraq. I knew that weighed heavy on her soul, although she never came out and said it. My son just completed his service in the Marines. She knew I would understand.
Interestingly, the turn the conversation took was the cancer Martha dealt with this year. She is now cancer-free, but she told me how she wasn’t worried and enumerated the times she could already have died but hadn’t. Obviously, it wasn’t her time. I was interested. She was actually ejected from a car when she was two, in those pre-car seat days, and the car rolled over on her. Obviously, she was fine. Why? Angels were at work, and her little two-year-old body ended up in a depression, a hole just big enough to protect her from the weight of the car. She said that she figured her time had not come yet, but when it did she was ready to go. She wondered if that was fatalistic. Both of us knew we were talking about more than her. We were talking about her son.
I assured Martha, as our conversation ended, that I would pray for her son and for travel mercies for her as she went to see him. Getting the car fixed was the first order of business, and it weighed on her heavily.
Not half an hour later, as my husband and I were leaving, the phone rang. He looked at me, and I could see that he was questioning whether we should answer it or not, but it was his on-call weekend, so I did. It was Martha, and she was crying. I understood through her tears that her Army son had called. What, I wondered, could he have said? I gave up and asked. Much to my delight, her answer was that she cries when she is happy! Her son had called to tell her that he would not have to leave until next year. The Army is going to send him to school, and they decided not to ship him to Iraq and then bring him back for the school. She was so happy that she wanted to share.
How wonderful are the works of God! I do not know what He saved Martha’s son from, but I do believe He intervened. And just like God cares about the lilies of the field, He cared about a mother’s heavy heart.
Martha’s son told her not to worry about coming to see him, not to worry about the car. He was going to try to come home and see her. She assured me we would get together so that I could meet him. And I will make a special effort. I want to meet the young man that God can use better here, in this country. At least for now. As a mother, I can only imagine the joy at that reunion.
I don’t think Martha fears death. Don’t get me wrong. I think her attitude is the one we all should have, the one the hymn we sang in church this morning so clearly illustrates:
Christ be my Savior in calm as in strife;
Death cannot hold me, for He is the Life.
Nor darkness nor doubting nor sin and its stain
Can touch my salvation: with Jesus I reign.
Amen.
Christ be my leader in age as in youth
Drifting or doubting, for He is the Truth.
Grant me to trust Him; though shifting as sand,
Doubt cannot daunt me; in Jesus I stand.
I like this whole hymn, but I thought this verse really illustrated the differences between being young and being, well…older. I am watching my son and his wife as they look for a condo or a house, my daughter as she seeks to find a life post-divorce. I remember drifting and doubting. Could we afford the house? Was it the right one? What if the lay-off (and there were many) lasted too long? How would we make the payments? I knew that God wanted the best for me, but what if there wasn’t anyone out there who wanted to marry me? How would He fulfill that longing that I had from a very early age?
Truth be told, I still drift and doubt. Quite a bit, more than I should. But I am much better at coming back to the anchor, Jesus. At least I think I am. This looking to Jesus earlier can be best illustrated by two conversations I had with my friend Martha on Friday.
Martha is a blessing to me. Her spiritual light shines in a way that you don’t see very often, and she can quote a Bible verse, without knowing what the problem is in your heart of hearts, that will pierce through to your soul. I am humbled by her faith, and I hope I get there some day.
Martha doesn’t call very often, but she did on Friday. I was glad to hear from her, but I could tell that something big was on her mind. Turns out it was her Army son. He was to ship out to Iraq on Thursday, and she wanted to go to Kentucky to see him, but her car was not in working order. He was set to ship out for a year and a half, and this would be his second tour of duty in Iraq. I knew that weighed heavily on her spirit, although she never came out and said it. My son just completed his service in the Marines. She knew I would understand.
Interestingly, the turn the conversation took was the cancer Martha dealt with this year. She is now cancer-free, but she told me how she wasn’t worried and enumerated the times she could already have died but hadn’t. Obviously, it wasn’t her time. I was interested. She was actually ejected from a car when she was two, in those pre-car seat days, and the car rolled over on her. Obviously, she was fine. Why? Angels were at work, and her little two-year-old body ended up in a depression, a hole just big enough to protect her from the weight of the car. She said that she figured her time had not come yet, but when it did she was ready to go. She wondered if that was fatalistic. Both of us knew we were talking about more than her. We were talking about her son.
This is what we sang in church this morning. It is from the hymn “Christ Be My Leader”:
Christ be my leader in age as in youth
Drifting or doubting, for He is the Truth.
Grant me to trust Him; though shifting as sand,
Doubt cannot daunt me; in Jesus I stand.
I like this whole hymn, but I thought this verse really illustrated the differences between being young and being, well…older. I am watching my son and his wife as they look for a condo or a house, my daughter as she seeks to find a life post-divorce. I remember drifting and doubting. Could we afford the house? Was it the right one? What if the lay-off (and there were many) lasted too long? How would we make the payments? I knew that God wanted the best for me, but what if there wasn’t anyone out there who wanted to marry me? How would He fulfill that longing that I had from a very early age?
Truth be told, I still drift and doubt. Quite a bit, more than I should. But I am much better at coming back to the anchor, Jesus. At least I think I am. This looking to Jesus earlier can be best illustrated by two conversations I had with my friend Martha on Friday.
Martha is a blessing to me. Her spiritual light shines in a way that you don’t see very often, and she can quote a Bible verse, without knowing what the problem is in your heart of hearts, that will pierce through to your soul. I am humbled by her faith, and I hope I get there some day.
Martha doesn’t call very often, but she did on Friday. I was glad to hear from her, but I could tell that something big was on her mind. Turns out it was her Army son. He was to ship out to Iraq on Thursday, and she wanted to go to Kentucky to see him, but her car was not in working order. He was set to ship out for a year and a half, and this would be his second tour of duty in Iraq. I knew that weighed heavy on her soul, although she never came out and said it. My son just completed his service in the Marines. She knew I would understand.
Interestingly, the turn the conversation took was the cancer Martha dealt with this year. She is now cancer-free, but she told me how she wasn’t worried and enumerated the times she could already have died but hadn’t. Obviously, it wasn’t her time. I was interested. She was actually ejected from a car when she was two, in those pre-car seat days, and the car rolled over on her. Obviously, she was fine. Why? Angels were at work, and her little two-year-old body ended up in a depression, a hole just big enough to protect her from the weight of the car. She said that she figured her time had not come yet, but when it did she was ready to go. She wondered if that was fatalistic. Both of us knew we were talking about more than her. We were talking about her son.
I assured Martha, as our conversation ended, that I would pray for her son and for travel mercies for her as she went to see him. Getting the car fixed was the first order of business, and it weighed on her heavily.
Not half an hour later, as my husband and I were leaving, the phone rang. He looked at me, and I could see that he was questioning whether we should answer it or not, but it was his on-call weekend, so I did. It was Martha, and she was crying. I understood through her tears that her Army son had called. What, I wondered, could he have said? I gave up and asked. Much to my delight, her answer was that she cries when she is happy! Her son had called to tell her that he would not have to leave until next year. The Army is going to send him to school, and they decided not to ship him to Iraq and then bring him back for the school. She was so happy that she wanted to share.
How wonderful are the works of God! I do not know what He saved Martha’s son from, but I do believe He intervened. And just like God cares about the lilies of the field, He cared about a mother’s heavy heart.
Martha’s son told her not to worry about coming to see him, not to worry about the car. He was going to try to come home and see her. She assured me we would get together so that I could meet him. And I will make a special effort. I want to meet the young man that God can use better here, in this country. At least for now. As a mother, I can only imagine the joy at that reunion.
I don’t think Martha fears death. Don’t get me wrong. I think her attitude is the one we all should have, the one the hymn we sang in church this morning so clearly illustrates:
Christ be my Savior in calm as in strife;
Death cannot hold me, for He is the Life.
Nor darkness nor doubting nor sin and its stain
Can touch my salvation: with Jesus I reign.
Amen.
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