Elizabeth and Melanie

Gripped with anxiety and fear, I clung to my eleven-year-old daughter’s hand, as she escorted me into our church for a “Beautiful” mother/daughter night sponsored by our women’s ministry. Because my friend was the event coordinator, I had offered to do whatever she needed in my Tennessee volunteer spirit. And what Satan meant for evil, the Lord ordained for good.

The need was for a model in my age bracket (yikes—middle 40’s!) for the Clinique representative to demonstrate a skincare regimen. Willingly, even eagerly, I agreed, only to discover fifteen minutes prior to the event that I was to arrive naked faced.

How on earth could I face one of my greatest fears—being literally unmasked—on a stage in front of 150 beautiful ladies? The fleshly desire was to bail on my commitment, but the Lord’s whispers of His Truth thundered over Satan’s lies.

The Lie: my physical beauty is not enough.

The Truth: the beauty that matters most to God is my inner spirit.

Rachel and Melanie

1 Peter 3:3-5 tells us, Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as elaborate hairstyles and the wearing of gold jewelry or fine clothes. Rather, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God’s sight.

As the mother of two daughters (18 and 11 years old), I have continually poured into them the Word of God about their identity in Christ. However, I had somehow missed that Truth for myself.

The Truth:

I am His. Psalm 119:94
I am chosen. (John 15:16)
I am loved. (Romans 5:8)
I am worthy. (Ephesians 4:1)
I am holy. (1 Peter 1:16).
I am righteous. (Romans 10:4)
I am flawless. (Ephesians 2:8-9)
I am beautiful. (1 Samuel 16:7)
I am redeemed and forgiven. (Ephesians 1:7)

All of these promises of Christ’s identity in me are true because of His ultimate sacrifice on the cross for my sin. The God of the universe ordained that “Beautiful” night of opportunity to teach, refine, and lovingly reveal an idol in my life.

Matthew 10:26-27 (NIV) tells us, There is nothing concealed that will not be disclosed, or hidden that will not be made known. What I tell you in the dark, speak in the daylight; what is whispered in your ear, proclaim from the housetops. I am bound in shackles of darkness no longer because of the Lord’s revelation.

When asked what is the greatest commandment, Jesus replied, Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind (Matthew 22:37). When we love the Lord and others with everything that is in us, there will be no room in our hearts for idolatry.

We each were made to love and worship God, but the most pressing question is, Who or what do we actually worship? We each have modern day idolatry in our lives. What do we do about our idols? How can we discern our idols? How can we be free from our idols?

Mark Driscoll provides a list of questions to help discern idols of the heart (taken from his June 18, 2006, sermon notes):

What are you most afraid of?
What do you long for most passionately?
Where do you run for comfort?
What do you complain about most?
What angers you the most?
All of your anger is about you.
What makes you happiest?
How do you explain yourself to other people?
How we explain ourselves may indicate our identity.
See, idolatry is building your life on anyone or anything other than Jesus….
What has caused you to be angry at God?
What do you want to have more than anything else?
What do you make the biggest sacrifices for?
Whose approval are you seeking?
     Is it Jesus?
And what do you treasure the most?

Elizabeth & Melanie

These questions are not for the faint of heart. They require authentic and transparent answers where heart surgery is often necessary. Humbly submit yourself to our heavenly Father who is absolutely crazy nuts in love with you! If you are ready and willing, the power of the Holy Spirit will guide you to the Truth.

As Christ followers and lovers of the Lord, our walk (heart/mind) will define who or what we truly worship. Daughters of the King, the whole wide world is watching… .

I often empathize with Job. He was a good guy. He loved God and yet found himself the target of Satan’s hate. Recently, my empathy has turned into full-blown grief as I watch my beloved stepfather, prepare to leave this world.

My mother married a wonderful man three years ago. Both had suffered tremendous abuse in their previous marriages. God has blessed them with a beautiful union. Never has there been a greater example of Christ’s love to the church than with these two people. Every time I am with them I learn how I want to be in my own marriage. The core of their love is deeply rooted in Christ’s message: to love each other above oneself.

Time was a factor for them from the beginning. My step dad says things like, “What person would willingly love and choose to marry someone full of cancer? Oh, I know, my angel.”  They have chosen not to waste a minute.

As my step dad’s illness grows progressively worse, he has become more and more grateful, praising God for all the time he has with my mom. He has this ability to just let the past go and completely surrender. All the while, he is in extreme, debilitating, take-your-breath-away pain. Yet, he is praise-fully happy to be alive.

I suppose it is at that level of pain that we are broken of our selfish thinking, our regret, our anger. When we experience that level of anguish, we have to make the choice to surrender and fully accept it.

Seeing someone you love slowly prepare to leave this physical world is one of the most unusual things to witness. It has to be both excruciating to watch and radiant with God’s grace. It is sad to hear him talk about the end but magnificent to hear him talk about his future and to hear him share about life, people, his choices, and his acceptance. To fully own his life and fully surrender it all at once is a lesson I take with me daily.

Sometimes I want to feel sorry for people like Job or like my mom and step dad. It’s easy to do. Job was in God’s favor, a loyal servant, but he was heavily afflicted and seemed to be punished. But in the midst of it all, Job stayed faithful and never once took the Lord’s name in vain. God blessed Job for his faithfulness.

Job’s story gives me hope. When I see those around me or find myself among the afflicted, He promises to remain faithful. He asks only that we find a way to stay faithful also.

My mom has shared a lot of her experience, and she admits her anger at times with God. But she also shared that when she came to the point of complete despair, she was embraced with open arms by Christ. When she was bent and broken enough to ask for help, Jesus was waiting to save her. It was in those moments that she felt covered in perfect peace, like being washed by the purest water. She immediately knew that she was in His protection and love and that He was going to take care of it all.

God has made enormous statements that proclaim victories found only in His son Christ Jesus. He has promised to make all things new, all things right, and all things good. He will wipe every tear, right every wrong, and fulfill every promise! He did with Job and He will again for all of us.

I heard someone recently put it perfectly: “What a high honor and such high esteem you must find yourself in if God has entrusted so much pain to you. Count yourself blessed to be given such a responsibility.”

My mother has written accounts of her experiences with her dying husband. Some are journal entries, some are poems, most are prayers. She has given me permission to share a very intimate poem that describes her days with her beloved man. She hopes it will help all who find themselves among the afflicted.

I am where I want to be.

My life is full of life. My life is full of death.

I am swept away by grief. Joy lifts me off my feet.

Sometimes I am alone. I am never alone.

I am where I want to be.

My eyes cannot bear to see the frailty of the body.

My nose senses disease and decay.

My hands caress and feel the bones.

I am where I want to be.

My former life is gone.

Today my lover needs my care.

I hold his hand. I stand by.

The days are long. The days are short.

Then I kiss his mouth; oh, it tastes so sweet.

I watch him sleep.

I am where I want to be.

                                                           ~Michelle Vickers

Sarah Apa

Last night I lay awake thinking about my mother and glanced at the clock…2:17am. Did I do this twenty years ago when my father died? Is this part of the grieving process? My alarm is set for 5:00am so I tried to go back to sleep. I tried to think of comforting Bible verses from memory and started praying for God to help me get back to sleep. My thoughts went to Momma being with Jesus and how her body and brain were healed now. That brought me comfort and I could rest.

Momma died in July 2015 after a massive stroke in July 2012. Those three years must have been painful for Momma both physically and emotionally. She wasn’t able to communicate with us so it was just a guess, but the doctor said “mild Alzheimer’s.” She seemed to be able to follow a conversation, but when she opened her mouth to respond it was mostly mumbling with an occasional discernible word. To listen to her was both sad and comical; I couldn’t help but smile and sometimes she would give up and laugh at herself. She worked as hard as her feeble body was capable and endured months of painful physical therapy to try to stand up on her own and take a step. But the right side of her body was useless and never regained any strength.

It was sometimes difficult for her to control the left side of her body, but it was strong! She could hook her left leg over the side of the bed and pull herself up to a sitting position. Then, it was like she would forget her right side didn’t work anymore when she would attempt to stand up. If I was there, I would stop her and remind her that her right leg wouldn’t hold her up, but often she was alone. Of course she would end up on the floor. Fortunately for her the damage was never more than a bruise. This happened a lot during the first year after the stroke. In the last couple of years, she only tried to get out of her wheelchair or her bed when she wasn’t feeling well and needed to get to the bathroom.

I don’t think she ever learned how to call for a nurse. Not sure it would have made any difference anyway. They always had alarms on her bed and her wheelchair in case she fell, but even those alarms didn’t get immediate response. I believed that I was the only one who could give “adequate” care to my mother.  I was willing to quit my job and take care of her full time, but she didn’t want to live with her children. Nearly thirty years ago she wrote my brother and me a letter stating if the time ever came when she couldn’t care for herself, she wanted to move to a care facility. She often reminded us of her wishes. But it was hard for me to be accepting of the level of care she received at either of the three different facilities in which she resided. I witnessed several sad events that still make my heart ache. It was sad for me and I was just visiting. How hard was it to live there? How hard is it to work there?

I often try to imagine what she thought about during those three years after her stroke. During her previous life she would often talk about “making memories” so that when she was old and unable to do things, she would have her memories to keep herself busy. So…was she able to recall all the memories she had made? Most of the left side of her brain had died because of the stroke, so could she even really “think” anymore?

Her hearing seemed to be particularly good during those three years. She didn’t want to have the television on or listen to music, but preferred to eavesdrop on her roommate’s visitors or the aides working in the hallway. She would raise her eyebrows and purse her lips when she heard something negative. She had a mischievous one-sided smile that warmed my heart to see on her face when she was pleased or thought whatever she heard was funny. And she did keep her sense of humor those three years and could join in with laughter when someone told a joke. I think she still thought and cared about others more than herself. It seemed to me that as soon as I arrived for a visit she was telling me I’d better start home. She didn’t like me to be on the road after dark or if the weather was bad.

There were a few times where she was unable to keep a tear or two from sliding down her face. I would try to discern the source of the tears…was she in physical pain?…was she thinking about her situation and feeling sad?…was she angry that she couldn’t form the words to tell me why she was crying?

As a servant of God, I strive to be generous, loving and hospitable like my mother. I will continue to miss her and recall the good times. I will find hope in the scriptures that promise I will be with her again someday in heaven. And I take comfort in knowing that my mother is with Jesus now and no longer trapped inside a painful, disabled physical body.

But we are citizens of heaven, where the Lord Jesus Christ lives. And we are eagerly waiting for him to return as our Savior. He will take our weak mortal bodies and change them into glorious bodies like his own, using the same power with which he will bring everything under his control. – Philippians 3:20