EOBs: Jesus paid it all

 

They call them EOBs.

The insurance company Mom is with emails me an EOB (Explanation of Benefits) whenever a claim is made. It details the bill and explains what amount of that bill the insurance will cover, and what will be Mom’s responsibility.

Mom is blessed to have the insurance she has. When I see the eye-watering costs associated with her recent stay in hospital and treatment for a broken hip, I don’t know how the uninsured in America manage.

Some people look at religion as a form of eternal insurance, a ‘just in case’ transaction which might open the gates of heaven for the adherent. Might cover the cost of any misdemeanours committed during a lifetime. Pie in the sky when you die.

Those who know Jesus know that the gates of heaven open when we first believe. Life on earth takes on a tinge of heaven. It doesn’t make life easy, but knowing that I walk through the valleys with Jesus strengthens, comforts and encourages me, filling me with hope and that peace beyond understanding.

Not insurance, but assurance. The gates swing open as soon as one of us sinners surrenders to Jesus, turning back from a lonely path pocked with pitfalls of sin, onto another path with plenty of pockets of sin, but walked hand-in-hand with the One who can keep me on my feet. And be there to help me up when I trip and fall.

Faith casts out fear. There is no question of whether or not my sin has been covered – of whether or not I might receive a shocking EOB at the gates of heaven showing that actually, the debt was too large for Jesus to cover.

Jesus paid it all.

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine.

Happy Thanksgiving!

 

I praised the Lord as the sun came up (not impressively early in a November Scotland…), and now the western sky is aglow with the final rays of the day, and again I am praising him.

Tomorrow, America will be closed for business as everyone heads to friends and family to celebrate Thanksgiving, usually with turkey and the trimmings, pumpkin and pecan pies. And football games.

Since my kids were young, we always ‘put up’ a Thanksgiving tree. It’s just a bare branch with some twigs on it, stuck into a block of wood. Everyone gets a leaf cut out of construction paper, and everyone has opportunity to write out their specific thanks, in the form of a prayer, a poem, a few words, bullet points, a drawing.

I’ve just cut out another pile of leaves, as we’ll be headed to Newtyle on Saturday to meet up with the rest of the family in Scotland to celebrate Thanksgiving. It will be so special to have leaves from the six grandchildren who will be there, as well as the rest of us. Those far away will be sorely missed.

God has opened heaven’s doors and shovelled the blessings out on us over this last year. There have been a few challenges, for sure, but the thing about God is that he never leaves us to manage the challenges on our own. As he promises, he never leaves nor forsakes us. I continue to see his hand in so many ways, and stand on tiptoe anticipating signs of his loving care every day.

May God bless us all with gratitude and thankful hearts, even in the midst of turmoil or trouble. Our hearts should always swell with humble gratitude for Jesus: if we have nothing else to write on a leaf, we can always draw the cross of calvary.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Another day in paradise

 

A glorious morning again. My dad used to greet every morning with the words, ‘Another day in Paradise’. Admittedly, Southern California weather and beauty were pretty alluring, but those words echoed in my mind today as I wrote that first sentence. A glorious morning. I can truthfully look out my windows and breathe with thanksgiving, ‘another day in Paradise’.

God’s created masterpiece was once a truly unspoilt paradise, and even though we have so degraded and altered it, many places in the world still reflect the beauty and glory of the creator. The rural landscape surrounding my home is one of them.

I remember realising the power of the word ‘breath-taking’ when I visited the Grand Canyon. No photograph prepared me for that moment of awe, which did take my breath away. The living beauties of the Great Barrier Reef form one of the most awesome memories of my life. I am so grateful to have experienced both of these masterpieces of God’s creation.

I breathe deep and exhale a paean of praise to our Saviour Jesus. ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.’

Today I am so thankful for the gift of another day in paradise, and I look forward to an eternity in paradise in all its fullness and perfection, when every tear will be dried and there will be no more pain or death, disease or war, violence or hatred. I stand on the promise that one day this will be true, and in the meantime, I am grateful for the life I have now, its challenges offering opportunities for me to watch God at work.

 

Shalom

 

Sleet cuts the cold air, gusting in waves across the snowy field. The trees round the prayer window are a-flutter with hungry, noisy birds, jockeying for space on the swaying fat balls and bobbing seed tray.

I listen, I watch: grateful to be inside beside a roaring fire. Then I notice a bigger bird, still as a statue, perched high in the Norwegian maple. I thought it was a pigeon: maybe it’s a crow: I can’t find the binoculars!

He’s been stationary now for at least an hour, bobbing on a small branch. Occasionally he flutters a feather or two, but otherwise he is absolutely unmoving.

Be still and know that I am God.

Mine has been a week of turmoil, indecision, misunderstanding, obfuscation. I have been up, then down; decisive, then confused: ready to act, then drawn to wait.

Be still and know that I am God.

God is faithful, full of grace and truth. May I rest in his peace, awaiting his word, his whisper, his touch, his hand on my life.

I hope that bird on the branch has not got his little claws frozen to the bark. I hope he is not too sick to fly, to find a place of greater shelter from the wintry weather.

I depend on God to keep my feet from being frozen onto a path which seems sensible, humanly speaking. May I be willing to follow the God who never leaves nor forsakes his loved ones, either onto a new path altogether, or continuing on the same path we are already on. Trusting in his love, mercy and care.

I was blessed this week by a video sent by Pastor Dan who visits Mom. He asked her for any advice she might have, as a centenarian, for younger people. In a heartbeat, she replied, ‘Love God. That is the most important thing. He sees things that we can’t see.’

What a blessing she is. No wonder God is preserving her life. She is like Job. She has lost so much, yet she hasn’t lost sight of her Lord. She is still letting the light inside her beam out into the darkness.

Thanksgiving week, and I have so much gratitude rising within me.

Shalom.

Frozen!

 

Frozen flakes sweep across the field, and as the light begins to fade and the temperature drops even more, they begin to slip into the dips and cracks of the ground and accumulate. A soft blanket of snow smooths out the sharp contours of the ploughed park, and if this keeps up overnight, by morning we may not see any shadows or stones, only a pillowy white softness stretching between the barbed wire fences.

It reminds me of the Lord’s love. Jesus suffered and died for the sins of the whole world, and as someone taught me, sin is sin, whether it is a heinous crime, or a juicy bit of gossip. All took him to the cross. And from the cross, the love in his eyes fell like the snow, levelling us. As the Scots say, ‘we’re all Jock Tamsin’s bairns’.

We are all God’s children.

I am humbled. I praise God for his mercy and grace, and I pray that he would open all of our hearts to see with his eyes, forgive as we have been forgiven, and be kind.

Steady ...

 

The blackbird perches on a fragile twig of the rowan tree. She bounces and sways in the wind, thrusting her beak forwards towards a juicy berry. The berry jerks away as her beak pierces and penetrates it, and as she repeats the motion many times, I surmise that every effort is met with minimal success.

She is not grounded.

Jesus told a story of a house built on a rock, able to withstand the fiercest of storms while the house built on sand collapsed.

Jesus also invited us to feed on him. With feet planted today on the Rock of ages, I am able to feed on the word of God and be satisfied. Not just satisfied, but refreshed, renewed, and enabled to go into my day, whatever it holds, rejoicing in the One who is my hiding place and my home.

 

Counting the Cost

 

Counting the cost.

Mom’s care home uses a point system to determine what she pays. Every detail of care she needs is rated by points, every point carrying a monetary value. The assessment form is multiple choice, and not every task offers an option which fits Mom’s needs.

The result of her fall and broken hip is not felt simply in the diminished life she can now lead due to physical pain and weakness. The cost of care has skyrocketed, necessitating that we review options. If there are any.

Jesus spoke about counting the cost with reference to following him. He taught that it’s important to know in advance what a course of action might cost so that you can judge whether or not it’s affordable. Sound advice. But in elderly care, there are too many variables to be able to accurately count the cost in advance. Length of life, cost of living rises, changes of facility management from a family-run business to a corporation eager to maximise returns to shareholders and directors.

So here we are, in a tight situation, as are so many these days. In a sense, it’s a blessed place to be, because I don’t really know what to do so I am doing what I do know: leaning in to Jesus. Spending more time with him. Praising more: speaking Jesus over my family, my Mom, this care home and the underpaid, beleaguered staff left to deal with clients’ families. Remembering scriptures of strength and encouragement, like Psalm 91: She who dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, ‘He is my refuge and my fortress, my God in whom I trust.’

He has gathered me under his wing; he has Mom under his wing. One step at a time. One day at a time. In this situation, I am experiencing the peace beyond understanding which only God gives.

But I am not complacent. I am actively seeking the way forward, but from a position of faith in the God who knows the end from the beginning. Who, when I have made my plans, intervenes to direct my steps.

I am praising the One who died for my sins, for the sins of the whole world.

In this month of Thanksgiving, I have so much gratitude welling up within my heart. I am so grateful to God, who is faithful to his promises, who never leaves nor forsakes any of us.

I am so grateful to my Jesus, who did count the cost, and paid it anyway.

May you, too, know his peace, whatever your circumstances this morning.

 

Lean into the Gardener

 

The voluptuous blooms on their hydrangeas are fading fast, and Emma commented it was time to prune the heads. Even after all these years, I am still a novice in the garden. So she showed me how.

An inch or two below the wilting bloom, you can see the buds forming for next year’s profusion. Cut the old flower head off there, and next year’s show will be amazing, she suggested.

I’ve done it now. We’ll see what happens next year.

My Father is the gardener, Jesus told his friends, … every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, so that it will be even more fruitful.

Pruning is painful. Sharp shears severing aspects of our lives which may have appeared to be flourishing. Buoyant home groups which falter. Spiritual gifts which seem to dry up. Rich relationships which encounter unexpected issues. A path forward which disappears, or is blocked.

The hydrangea is pruned before the winter storms hit. During winter weather, it, like the other plants in the garden, hibernates, regrouping, gathering its strength for the next growing season.

A sabbath rest, a time to be refreshed, strengthened. A time to sharpen our ears for God’s voice.

Simplify. Batten down the hatches, and lean into the Gardener.

 

Drawn to the Light

 

The broken man was drawn to the mountain and its glacier. The cause of his brokenness is not revealed, but as he embraces Mont Blanc and its melting glacier, he encounters a healing power which restores his soul. The healing touch leaves his left hand and forearm forever changed, charged with an inner light which glows warmly in the dark.

This was the story in the French film we watched last night.  

A fitting story during this week of the American election, the results which have broken the hearts of many and left them reeling. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it. In the days to come, may we all be drawn constantly to the love of God. May we all be filled with the light of Jesus and the power of the Holy Spirit. Lord, let your healing touch forever change us, those who follow Jesus, so that our lives are charged with an inner, divine light which glows warmly in the dark. May we trust in God as we negotiate whatever is to come.

‘As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; the wind blows over it and it is gone, and its place remembers it no more. But from everlasting to everlasting the Lord’s love is with those who fear him, and his righteousness with their children’s children –’ (Ps 103)

May your righteousness be with our children’s children, empowering and strengthening them. From everlasting to everlasting.

Help us to keep our eyes on you.

Jesus, Jesus over everything

 

The birds are back, gathering at the bird-feeders, filled again after the summer, when they were left empty because there was so much sustenance in the fruits and berries and thriving insect population.

There are times when my spirit is released to feed widely, gathering wisdom from sermons, guidance from fellow-disciples, nuggets of knowledge from devotionals. Other times, I sense a need to just draw in to Jesus.

This morning, I found myself laying my hand on the globe in my prayer window, covering the USA. And I sang out ‘God bless America, land that I love. Stand beside her, and guide her, through the night with the light from above. From the mountains, to the prairies, to the oceans, white with foam: God bless America, my home, sweet, home. God bless America, my home sweet home.’

On this day which is critical for the future of the country, with repercussions for the world, God bless America. What else can I pray?

When I need to snuggle into the Lord, I find I am best able to do that through music, so I went on to the recent praise song from Charity Gayle, I Speak Jesus: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PcmqSfr1ENY

To whom else should we go? Peter asked. You, Jesus, have the words of eternal life.

‘I just want to speak the name of Jesus’ in every voting booth in America today. I just want to speak the name of Jesus into every heart that beats with hatred. I just want to speak the name of Jesus into every spirit that cowers in fear. ‘Break every stronghold, shine through the shadows’ Jesus.

Jesus over fear. Jesus over illness. Jesus over anxiety. Jesus over hatred. Jesus over pride. Jesus over nationalism. Jesus. Jesus.

I trust you to feed us today, Lord Jesus, knowing that your ways are not our ways, and praying that we would all feed on you every day. As the birds need to feed frequently, so I need to feed frequently on you, Lord.

I speak the holy name of Jesus over this hurting world this morning, Lord. Your world. Shine, Jesus, shine, in your disciples today. Shine, Lord. May we bear your image, whatever happens.

Peace. Shalom. In Jesus’ Name.