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It Is Well With My Soul

sailing-bc-1450561Dear sister,

You may already be familiar with the story of the hymn It Is Well With My Soul.

Horatio Spafford’s two-year-old son died, and shortly thereafter the 1871 Great Chicago Fire ruined him financially (he was a successful lawyer and had invested in property in the area that was damaged by the fire). His business interests took another hit in the economic downturn in 1873, when he had planned to travel to Europe with his family. In a last-minute change of plan, he sent his family ahead while he remained behind to deal with zoning problems having to do with the fire. While crossing the Atlantic, their ship sank quickly after a collision with another vessel, and all four of their daughters died. Spafford’s wife Anna survived and sent him a telegram that simply said, “Saved alone.” Shortly afterward, as Spafford traveled to meet his grieving wife, he wrote these words as his ship passed near where his daughters had died.

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Deeply moving words, to be sure. But I feel too often we stop there with this hymn. We share it with each other as encouragement to hang on, trust God, keep the faith, ‘learn in every situation to be content’ (Philippians 4:11). Without the Holy Spirit mourning with us, that is sometimes too much willpower to bear.

The next verse tells the source of our hope, Jesus:

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

And the next verse gives the gospel again, with a breathless aside about the glory of its truth:

My sin—oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!—
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Lord willing, I will turn 30 next month, and people keep asking me how I feel about it and whether I’m okay with it and assuring me how young that still is, as if I didn’t already know! Scripture is clear that aging is an honor, that grey hair is a crown; that getting older is something to be sought after. And every birthday—like every day we awaken with God’s mercies new every morning—brings us closer to Jesus’ return in glory, when there will be no more sorrow or crying, when the former things will pass away and God will wipe away all tears.

The final verse fixes our eyes heavenward, to Jesus’ return:

And Lord, haste the day when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
It is well with my soul,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

Your sister,

Sarah

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A Desire Rearranged

Dearest Sister,

Birth of a vision…death of a vision…Anticipation…Dashed hopes…Heights…Depths…
Rhapsody…Gloom…

The Psalmist speaks for us when he says,
“Unless the Lord had been my help, my soul would soon have settled in silence.
If I say, ‘My foot slips,’ Your mercy, O Lord, will hold me up.
In the multitude of my anxieties within me,
Your comforts delight my soul.” (Psalm 94:17-19)

Since I last wrote there has been much reflecting on my life, reminders of hard times, God’s workings and faithfulness to our family. After the circumstances of the birth of my firstborn which I described to you recently, God lovingly gave us another gift, our second son, our sweet Matthew. We were thrilled with this little boy beyond measure. I was already 38 and another baby at that age was a marvel to us. We had always desired more children, but time seemed to be slipping away. Advancing age presented problems, so they say. The risks in pregnancies at later ages for the mama increased–the greater possibility of birth defects loomed before us. At age 41 we found I was pregnant again. Oh joy! Perhaps God would give us a little girl. Doesn’t every mama need a daughter? A mixture of excitement and anxiety ensued. The boys were only five and three, but this mama was “old”. I could have been a grandma.

Sonograms in those days were uncommon. All was going well. Those wonderful little flutters were felt in my belly when this child moved, and as the baby grew, the familiar movements became stronger, but not frequent. Familiar fears of some impending problem began looming in my mind, but according to personal track record, these things were pondered in the heart and not voiced to others. In the ninth month this child rarely moved and my silence continued. Labor began and the doctor and attending staff performed their skilled work of bringing our baby into the world by Caesarian section. That beautiful cry of life, the hoped-for words, “It’s a girl!”, were heard and the nurse whisked our child away to clean her and do those things nurses do. But time stood still as my husband whispered something like, “They are examining her far too long. They are studying her hands and face. They didn’t do that with the boys.” The doctor’s verdict was that we had a healthy little girl, but the nurse did not bring her to me. An eternity later our pediatrician came into our assigned room and with averted eyes told us our baby girl had Trisomy 21…The twenty-first set of chromosomes in her DNA structure was not a pair. There were three. Our Jennifer had what is commonly known as Down Syndrome. The doctor told us there were places we could put her and walked out.

Stunned, yet not stunned, our eyes lingered not so bravely on each other. Later we would share how God had prepared us for this “crushing” event through a variety of circumstances, but at this moment our emotions were in flux, attempting to think rightly, yet filled with a kind of sorrow.

As we were abruptly introduced to this new world of “disabled children” I learned the reason my daughter had rarely moved as she grew within me–low muscle tone, typical of her makeup. I would soon realize that even holding her head up at three months would be a terrible struggle for my little one. “Hi, Jenny,” we would say as her head wobbled erratically and we would steady her and lift her sweet face toward us.

That first evening in the hospital blurred before me. Our daughter turned dusky (bluish) just as I had finally been allowed to hold her for only a few moments. Hospital staff whisked our baby away to another hospital to check for heart problems and I prayed, “Lord, don’t let me love her if You are going to take her.” I was frightened, confused, steeling myself against the pain of loss–emotional and physical.

Many friends came to visit in the days that followed, more than a usual amount of visitors, people trying to comfort, not knowing what to say about this new life which would normally bring joy and congratulations. One woman came in and said, “I’m so excited for you!”, and I pitied her.

In the middle of that first night when my baby was across the city in another hospital, deep sleep from emotional and physical exhaustion took over. But in the early morning hours, the overhead light was rudely turned on, a nurse walked in and loudly proclaimed, “Mrs. Finamore, here is your daughter! She’s fine!”, handed her to me, walked out and closed the door. Vividly in the mind, emanating in the voiced words, “Ok, here goes, Lord,” I gazed at this baby’s little face–memorizing the sagging cheeks, the slanted eyes, the ears set low on her head. I began to unwrap the swaddled blanket covering her body. I saw two arms, two legs, ten fingers, ten toes. So perfect. I took off her tiny shirt and caressed her tummy and back. I undid her diaper and saw her little girl body. I kissed her face, her neck, her hands. That motherly tenderness, designed beautifully by God, overwhelmed my soul, my emotions, as I stared at this little one created by God, and I was smitten. The lump in my throat moved to tears in my eyes as I fell in love, bitter-sweetly, with this child, created in God’s most precious image…this child who needed my love and care and tenderness–and who also needed Jesus–just like any other child in the world.

The years have passed, twenty-six to be exact, and this child has filled our lives with joy. She loves life, is never, ever bored, brings a light to the eyes of all those she meets. As she will tell you herself, she loves to create things, she is an artist, a dancer, a computer genius in my estimation. She adores her brothers and her daddy. God has given her a humbly grateful heart, a heart filled with love and acceptance without judgment. We learn much from her about not complaining or arguing. She is without guile.

This home will never have an empty nest. There will never be a relationship with her at the level I have with my own mama. Her daddy will never walk her down an aisle. She does not have a college degree, but did proudly wear her cap and gown at her high school graduation. And it is all good, because God is the Always Good. He does all things well.

Sister, don’t despair when God brings you things not asked for. Do not grumble when your dreams are not realized as you envisioned. Do not allow any bitterness to take root in your heart when plans do not materialize. Do not allow fear of the unknown to rule your heart. We either believe God is Sovereign over all or we do not. We believe He is good in that sovereignty or we do not. We are grateful for His workings in our lives or we are not. We either believe He is working out in our lives all things for our good and His glory or we do not. What do you have for which you did not ask, my sister? God is sufficient. Be satisfied with Him above all else. Keep your eyes on Jesus. He never misleads–even when we do not understand.

“Whate’er my God ordains is right:
His holy will abideth;
I will be still whate’er He doth,
And follow where He guideth.
He is my God; though dark my road,
He holds me that I shall not fall:
Wherefore to Him I leave it all.”

“…Count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work (maturing work) that you may be perfect (mature) and complete, lacking nothing.” James 1:2-4

“For You formed my inward parts;
You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I will praise You for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.”
Psalm 139:13-14

Looking with you for His return when we will be perfect, without disability, unfettered by sin which weighs us down. We shall be like Him–for we shall see Him as He is–

Cherry

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Steadfastness and Endurance Through Tears

Breast-feeding was painful. It was hard. Every time my daughter would try and latch on tears of pain would flood down my cheeks. Parts of me were bleeding and getting infected that I never thought was possible. I had sores that would tear every 3-4 hours as my baby girl fed unaware of my grinding teeth and cringing toes. Barrett told me I could quit but the echoes of words from other mom’s would ring in my ears. Their faces would be contorted in remembered pain as they told me it would get better. I didn’t understand why God created this good gift of life giving nutrients to be so hard…or impossible for some. Yet the promise that this suffering would end gave me the steadfastness and endurance to continue…even in the tears.

You may not be able to relate to this example, but I know, sweet sister, that you have your own example of a trial or dark time where someone desires to comfort you with words that it will end. Maybe when you hear the word “cancer”, or you are so depressed you can’t get out of bed. Perhaps singleness is your struggle or your distant spouse. Do you face your plight with patience? Are you willing to accept or tolerate a delay to the end of your suffering without getting angry or upset? When your comforters come to help you look past the struggle to a hope of a future ending…or simply to remind you of being with Jesus in heaven forever…how do you respond? Do you grind your teeth and cringe your toes to press on or do you give up all hope?

We serve a God who defines longsuffering and patience. His creation chose independence shortly after He gave them paradise, yet instead of striking them dead at that moment, He had a plan that would save them forever. He gave them a sacrificial system, which filled all their senses of the cost of their sin. They would touch it as they brought their sheep to the temple, hear it in the screams of the sheep being led to slaughter, smell it as flesh burned, and see it as the smoke rose upward. This delayed His wrath toward His people for thousands of years until in the fullness of time, He sent His son to be the final sacrifice. He would be the perfect, sinless sacrifice that ended all sacrifice. God was patient with His wrath only to put it all on His own son for our gain. And now the Son sits at the right hand of the Father patiently waiting to come back one last time, to redeem all His people for all eternity. The Father knows the right time again. Yet, He patiently waits for the gospel to be told to all people, tribes, and nations. He hears the screams of the persecuted and welcomes them home with open arms. His heart breaks as the curse continues to take His image bearers with disease, famine, war, terror, and accidents. Yet His plan is perfect and He is patient to the end.

Oh, how I long to set my hope in the truth of this good news! That my pain here on earth will end, if not in a certain season, then at my resurrection. That I can suffer long because my hope is built on nothing less than Jesus blood and righteousness. That my anger at my circumstance will be squashed in the fact that my God knows, sees, and hears my pleas and His plan is good. Oh God! Give me this patience to endure my trial! And thank you for forgiving me when my eyes leave you and dwell on my short-term suffering. Give me friends that will encourage me to endure, despite the pain. And please, make me that friend too.

Your Sister in Christ,

Colleen

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Hope for the Battle

HighlandsDear sister, lately I feel like battling sin will be the death of me. And Lord willing, it will be. The death of my self apart from Christ; the death of my wretched, depraved sin nature; the death of the old darkness to make room for His light. The truth is, we have already been made alive in Christ.

“And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience— among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind. But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ—by grace you have been saved— and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Ephesians 2:1-9, emphasis mine.)

Are we left to battle sin alone? No! We have been given the Holy Spirit, one of the Persons of the Trinity, to indwell us! To fight with us. To pray for us (Romans 8:26). What’s more, Jesus was made man; He not only died for us, He lived for us—“For we do not have a High Priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need.” (Hebrews 4:15-16)

And how do we battle? With the fruit of the spirit. With the full armor of God, with which He equips us. “Put on the whole armor of God, that you may be able to stand against the schemes of the devil. For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers over this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places. Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. In all circumstances take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming darts of the evil one; and take the helmet of salvation, and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God, praying at all times in the Spirit, with all prayer and supplication.” (Ephesians 6:11-18a)

Press on, sister. Take courage, dear heart. He has given us an army to fight beside, and He has already won the victory. But the armor of God cannot be set aside or taken off. Polish it while it’s on. Be ever ready.

And in the depths of this battle, what are we pressing toward? Our Abba Father, the Holy One.

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us,” Paul encourages us in Romans 8:18. He goes on to talk about the whole creation groaning with us in pain, awaiting redemption. For we were created to be redeemed, for God’s glory. Someday we will see His face and dwell with Him forever, where there will be no sin and no sorrow. What riches. What consolation. What hope!

I love the way R.C. Sproul and Jeff Lippencott expressed the hope of heaven in their Highland Hymn.

Above the mists of Highland hills,
E’en far above the clear blue skies
The end of pain and earthly ills
When we shall see His eyes.

Refrain:
Lutes will sing, pipers play
When we see Him face to face
On that day.

His face now hidden from our sight,
Concealed from ev’ry hidden gaze;
In hearts made pure from sinful flight
Is the bliss that will amaze.

(Refrain)

We know not yet what we will be
In heaven’s final blessed state;
But know we now that we shall see
Our Lord at heaven’s gate.

The beatific glory view
That now our souls still long to see
Will make us all at once anew,
And like Him forever be.

(Refrain)

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How Long, O Lord, How Long?

My dear sister,

I’m home with my family after a lovely vacation in Virginia and at a beautiful South Carolina beach with my oldest son and his precious family. God gave us our fourth grandchild three months ago and I finally met little (big) Sammy. I’m a baby lover and it was hard to put him down. No other major events are going on in my life to make things look dark or hopeless or depressing. How thankful I am for these “easy” times in my life. To be sure, everything isn’t all rosy. My frail mama lives with us and each new day comes with various challenges, but this is a privilege, not a trial in my book. However, I am aware that you might be in need of encouragement at this very moment. I ask God to give me words of comfort and hope and am reminded of II Corinthians 1:4 where Paul tells us that God comforts us in our afflictions so that we, in turn, are able to comfort others with the same comfort that we have received from God.

In the past I’ve shared with you some of God’s dealings with me in submission. This lesson has had to be taught many times in my life and God continues to train me in His school of sanctifying trials, molding my will to His sovereign desires for me.

This leads me to reflect upon a dark time in my life when my heart was heavy, when my desires and petitions–even beggings, seemed to hit that well-known stone wall. Don’t we all know that feeling? We cry with David, “How long, O Lord? Will You forget me forever? How long will You hide your face from me? How long shall I take counsel in my soul, having sorrow in my heart daily?”  And the answer does not come.

Many of us know about infertility, miscarriages, and even sadder things. My sorrow was infertility, doctor visits too numerous to mention,  hormone treatments…yielding nothing except four babies we never had the chance to meet. People tried to be helpful. Some were unintentionally cruel with thoughtless words. One year…Two years…Three years…..Six years…

All around me were women getting pregnant, wanting to be, not wanting to be. Joyful women. Complaining, grumbling women. Angry women.

“Why me? Why me?”, cried the faithless, ungrateful, thinking of myself more highly than I ought to think part of me. Like Rachel to Jacob, her husband, I felt like crying out to God, ‘Give me children or I die.’ I remember my dear husband gently taking me by the shoulders, looking me confidently and empathetically in my eyes and reminding me of God’s Sovereignty and His always goodness whether we had babies or not. God is in charge of the womb, he said. And God is good.

My sister, we all do know God is sovereign over all the events of our lives–not simply our joys, but over our losses, our sorrows, our pain, our desires, our suffering. In fact, James tells us to “count it all joy” when (not if) these trials enter our lives, for there is purpose in it, purpose for our good and for God’s glory…”knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience. But let patience have its perfect work, that you may be perfect (spiritually mature) and complete, lacking nothing.”

These principles came alive during this stage in my life. II Corinthians 10:5 leapt off the pages of my Bible and into my faulty and anguished thinking. “Casting down imaginations and every high thing that exalts itself against the knowledge of God and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ.”  My mind had been running to and fro with yearnings and envy and grumbling and disappointment. God brought me to my senses rather abruptly with His convicting Word. My mind, my thoughts needed to be harnessed, made captive, to true thoughts concerning God’s character, His love, His principles. He wanted my will to be brought under the authority of His will in all matters in that ‘glad surrender’ Elizabeth Elliot wrote about.

It was clear–again. Why am I so slow to learn, to remember His faithfulness, His trustworthiness?  Desire His desires above all else. It was not about me at all in the grand scheme. Whether He gave me a baby or not no longer mattered as much, reminiscent of my struggles with this very principle before marriage. My thoughts became focused on Christ and His desires for me to trust that He does all things well, no matter what that may be, whether or not I understand or like it.

And so I prayed, once again, from the depths of my soul, nothing held back,  “Oh God, may I desire you above all else. May I desire your glory to shine forth in my life with or without babies.” And, with an emotional shudder, I added, as sincerely as I could muster, “Please, my God, do not ever give me a child unless he would grow up to love you supremely.”

God indeed gives us perfect peace when our minds are stayed on Him, when we desire His will above our own. David tells us to “Trust in the Lord, and do good; Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness. Delight yourself also in the Lord, and He shall give you the desires of your heart.” Many use this as a proof-text for  their theology of “God will give me want I want.” No, the Psalmist is telling us that if we truly delight ourselves in the Lord, He will plant His desires in our hearts.  We will want what He wants. Gone is the frustration and bargaining and dissatisfaction.  God’s will becomes more attractive to the soul than our own earthly demands with their imperfect motives.

God’s difficult mercy led to His gentle mercy. Jonathan Daniel, 31, walks with Christ and loves Him sincerely, telling and living the gospel before his own sons and daughter and a watching world.

Gladly surrendering, again,
Cherry