One year on

It's been a year since I wrote my first post, about my family's struggles. Struggles which have improved but which are far from over. And my latest post was about a man healed.

Here's the thing about healing. We want it really badly. We long for it. We beg God for it. Those of us who believe in Jesus believe in a God who can heal. I truly believe he can and does heal today. But why so rarely?

I'm learning to see and to accept that its not always the best thing for us. God will always do the thing that brings us closer to him, and brings most honour to his name.

Illness and suffering bring us face to face with all that is wrong with the world. What Christians call ' the fall.'  And when faced with suffering, our own or that of those we love, we want out. Jesus knows that only too well. Just look at Gethsemane.

But what mankind has always, always done is to seek God for his gifts and then when we have them, turn our backs and go our own way. There is a danger inherent in seeking the gifts not the Giver.

And there is a special closeness and joy to be found in knowing Christ in his sufferings. To be brought alongside his loving heart which has suffered so much for us.

Yes we still long for healing and yes suffering still hurts. And we will get the healing, the wholeness, the peace. Some now and in its entirety in heaven.

I struggled with my children's diagnoses, especially with Alice's epilepsy. Its one thing to trust him with my own suffering, but with my tiny daughter's? Do I even have that right? To trust him even if he doesn't want to heal her. Her dedication day was a turning point for me. I really felt like I was relinquishing control, handing her back to God even if my heart broke. And I will never forget the friends who stood alongside us in prayer and heartbreak that day.

And a few weeks later her health started to change. The seizures lessened. The third medicine, which had a tiny chance of working, was working. Her smile and zest for life and cheeky spirit came back.

She is well. Not one hundred percent but good enough. I asked God one day why he didn't heal her properly ( not really expecting an answer) and he said 'to keep you trusting in me. My grace is sufficient.'

At the height of my 'yelling at the ceiling' prayers I told God 'if they are old enough to have the suffering they are old enough to have your Holy Spirit!' And I see him answering that, especially in Harry.

Harry loves to pray. He's excited by the Bible. His eyes light up when he hears about heaven. He longs to see God's face (as long as its not too bright. But nothing in heaven is too anything.) He's six years old and autistic. Would he have this vibrant faith if it wasn't for his autism? I think not. Struggling as he does with anxiety has pushed him towards a God who promises to take care of our worries, who is our refuge and safe place.

And Alice? I don't see that faith yet. But I know one thing. And if you've read my earliest posts you know it too. From the day she was born God has been writing her story. A beautiful and hard story but one that draws God close and then spills him out.

A story of transformation

In the book of Acts chapter 3 there's a man. He's lame from birth. He sits outside the temple in Jerusalem every day begging.

Jesus has been around Jerusalem a fair bit the last few years. He's been healing people. He must have walked past this man. Passed him by. Did the man see him? Did Jesus see the man? Most people don't, or pretend not to anyway. But Jesus wasn't like that.

But Jesus isn't seen around Jerusalem anymore. He was crucified. There are rumours that he came back to life, that he has been seen by his followers. I wonder how much this man saw and heard. Did he recognise Jesus' friends as they entered the temple? Or did his empty belly and weary heart weigh him down too much? Anyway the man isn't even looking properly at them. Best not to expect too much.

But these men stop. They look at him. They tell him to look at them. They must have something to give, right?
'Silver and gold I do not have, but what I do have I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, I tell you,  walk!'

The man called Peter reaches out his hand. The lame man takes it. And he feels his legs, that have never walked, grow strong. Strong enough to stand. Strong enough to walk. Strong enough to jump! To dance! To leap around! What joy must have flooded this man's heart. And he turns that joy back into praise, for the God who has healed him, as he enters into the temple on his newly strong legs.

The crowd see. They see the man they have pretended not to see many times. They see the transformation and are astonished. Only Jesus has healed like this and he died.

Peter speaks bold and challenging words. Words that cut to the heart. Yes Jesus died, because you and I put him on that cross. But God raised him to life. Its time to respond to him.

And the miracle shouts that Jesus is alive. Jesus is still working.

I got home yesterday from leading a study on this passage and opened my emails. There was a story from
'Gospel for Asia.' A story of a man lame from birth. Not healed but being transformed anyway.

Jesus is still working.

How the Bible is like a soap opera (or Doctor Who)

My dad is a history buff. I find it fascinating but have a terrible memory for times, dates and places. They stay in my head for about 3 minutes.

I wanted to get some historical facts and figures about the Bible for this post but I had to search around for some help. The most useful thing I found was this: (I am getting to the soap opera bit, bear with me!)

             Approximately forty authors wrote in three different languages over a period of one thousand five hundred years. Some of the authors were young, some were old, some were soldiers, others were fishermen, farmers, civil servants or kings. They wrote during different periods of history, in different geographical locations, to different groups of people.
(Christianity Explored by Rico Tice and Barry Cooper)

Forty authors, 3 languages, 1500 years. And yet it is one story.

It's a while since I watched a soap opera but pre-kids I watched loads. Each day would bring a different character, a different drama, but there would often be one on-going story line which kept me watching. I had to know what would happen next.

Or take Doctor Who. The recent series have had a range of adventures, new every week, but with an undercurrent storyline. Cracks in walks, Missy, Bad Wolf. It keeps you coming back for more.

The Bible works a bit like that. There are stories within The Story: Cain and Abel, Noah, David and Goliath etc. But there's a theme, a promise running through. That the world went wrong, but God will fix it. There will be a way back to the garden (Adam and Eve's story), a ladder to Heaven (Jacob's story), a forever King (David's story), a precious Son sacrificed (Abraham's story.)

I suspect that the people who watch EastEnders on Christmas day are the same people that watch it all year. And while you can watch and enjoy a Doctor Who Christmas Special, I imagine that those who anticipate it more and appreciate it more are those who are loyal fans.

Likewise, if the only Bible story you ever hear is the Christmas story of the baby in the manger, it is going to lack impact and meaning. But if you have read from the beginning, you have a sense of the need of God's people for a rescuer, the promises given by God to restore the broken relationship with his children, the waiting, the longing, the prophecies... And finally, He is here!

The nativity story is not the beginning of the story. Nor is it the end.

Waiting

I've been getting advent wrong all along.

In one of the children's Bible story books it is very clear that there are two kings in the Christmas story. One earthly and one heavenly.

The earthly King, Caesar, is full of his own importance and power. He needs to know just how powerful he is so he gets the whole kingdom on the move so he can count them.

Little did he know that long before God had decreed that His King would be born in Bethlehem. Caesar's power was a mirage.

And in the middle of the chaos the Forever King is born. He doesn't flaunt his power. It was possible, is possible to miss that it ever happened.

We are used to crowds at Christmas time so it doesn't take a huge leap of imagination to envisage Bethlehem at that time.

But His coming was not missed by everyone. I can't help wondering about those who heard the news and recognised the Saviour in that tiny baby. I wonder if what they had in common was quiet and waiting hearts.

We don't know much about the shepherds. They were watching their flocks. We do know that God has a soft spot for shepherds, choosing to describe himself as one in many places. And we know from David's life that being a shepherd left plenty of time for stillness and contemplation, and, if they chose, getting to know Gods heart.

The illustration in the Jesus storybook bible shows them lying on their backs round the fire, staring at the stars when those angels appeared.

The wise men were also staring at the stars. They must, I think, have been searching for something up there. I wonder if they knew what they were seeking, who they were seeking? They found the Maker of the stars come down to earth.

Do you know what or who your heart is longing for? I suspect I know his name.

Then there are Simeon and Anna. I love finding the hidden stories in the Bible of quiet unassuming lives lived in faith, and suddenly thrown into the spotlight. Simeon and Anna didn't lead armies or call fire down from heaven. They spent their days quietly seeking God. Simeon was waiting. He knew God would keep his promise, to send a rescuer. He knew he would see the Saviour before he died. And he had the eyes of faith to recognise him in the child. Anna had spent her days praying, fasting, seeking. And she too was rewarded with seeing her Saviour.

How have we made advent all about doing more- the baking, the fairs, the shopping, the wrapping, the extra church services.... When what we should be doing is slowing down so we don't miss the wonder of Gods gift- Himself.