Thankful after all

Today I awoke at home, deeply thankful to be here, in the comfort and quiet of my own bed, in my own bedroom, in my own house.

The sky was very, very white outside my window, behind the intricate bare, black branches of my maple tree.  As I looked out my window at the white and black view, I saw puffy snowflakes slowly drifting down among the branches like particles of grace, white flecks of motion, gentle and lovely against the stark backdrop, yet adding no color.  Sometimes a gust of air would carry them upwards, and somehow, even though the sun was completely hidden behind a thick layer of white cloud, they shone softly with its reflection.

As I write about the beauty I saw, I realize that I am more thankful than I thought I was, because, you see, I was struggling with hurt, a headache and a heartache, and I didn't think I was thankful.  But by the grace of God, I am thankful, and to Him belongs all the praise.

I didn't think I was thankful, because I was experiencing a fear, and it was a fear that sprang out of things I have learned, and things that haunt me from past experiences.  Memories are powerful things, and they center around the Momentous Occasions of our lives.  We remember the Momentous Occasions, and we remember how people treated us.  We are much more apt to forget how we treated others, but we remember our own emotions; ah, how we remember those.

I awoke with a heavy heart and a lump in my throat.  A lump in my throat.  That's such a cliche, and yet, so accurate.  I was thinking about Momentous Occasions of the past, marred by bad behavior, selfishness, obliviousness and misunderstandings, but mostly selfishness.  I had a fear of Momentous Occasions yet to come, and the premonition that they will be similarly marred, cloaked in hurt and darkness and division.  The thing is, where Momentous Occasions are concerned, you don't get a second chance.  They are once and done, and the memory is sealed.  Weddings, funerals, births.  Somebody ought to tell you:  It matters.  Do it right.  Be on your best behavior.  Be gracious.  Please be gracious.  You will never be sorry for having been gracious.

Momentous Occasions are like photographs, and you want to look your best in the memories, because the memories will be made, one way or another, and they will last.  Why isn't this common knowledge, widely shared wisdom, something everybody knows and lives by?  Why does it take so long to learn, and why does the learning of it have to come through failures?  Why, even once we start to learn it, do we focus on "them" and not on ourselves?  They shouldn't wreck the memories, we declare, while neglecting to seek the grace we could extend to mitigate the damage.

We can only control ourselves, and even that is a dubious endeavor.  We need the power of the Holy Spirit at work in us, helping us, empowering us.  Oh, God, help us.  Help us to give grace, even when if feels like it is being sucked out into a black hole.  Help us trust You to use our meager sacrifices for Your perfect purposes.  Help us trust that what we give to You, You will never waste, but instead multiply into blessings that magnify Your glory and bless us with goodness.

Here is a story of a mystery of God:

Our ladies' Bible study is studying 1 Corinthians.  We are studying 1 Corinthians primarily because I wanted to study 2 Corinthians, but felt obliged to study 1 Corinthians first.  I had never studied any Corinthians in context, although I knew a good many verses from these epistles, out of context.  I never knew how it all fit together.

As we began our journey through 1 Corinthians, I was struck by two things:  (1) This is a tremendously difficult book (no wonder pastors rarely exposit through it), and (2) It is all about humility.

Yes, humility.  Right now.  Humility is what I am studying.

All the evils of the world will cease when humility reigns.  Humility.  Humble.  Humanity.  Human.  Do you think God allowed this word etymology to evolve together for no good reason?

In the Corinthian church, they suffered under a plague of pride and competition.  They took the good gifts of God, His word, His teachers, even the gifts of the Spirit to equip each believer, and they perverted it all into contests.  Honestly, they were actually elbowing one another out of the way in order to get first dibs on a hearty serving of the communion elements.  Can you imagine?  They boasted of how free they were in Christ, and displayed their freedom by boldly committing sins, then bragged that their freedom to sin made them all the more praiseworthy (1 Corinthians 5:1-2).  The Apostle Paul told them they were getting things backwards.

They were a sick bunch, and their sickness was rooted in pride.  The cure was to become humble, to empty themselves and let the Spirit of God flow in and fill them with grace.  Do all for the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:31).  Look to the interests of others, give up your rights for the good of others, and seek the things that build up the body of believers.  Be humble.

Humility is putting the interests others ahead of our own interests.  Humility is love, and love is humble.  Love is kind.  It is not proud, rude or self-seeking.  It is not easily angered and keeps no record of wrongs.  It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.  (1 Corinthians 13)

Humility is something we must do ourselves.  It is the opposite of humility to insist that the other person be humble.  One cannot say, "You must keep no record of the wrongs I've done to you!"  Rather, one must depend on the Lord to help with the casting away of the records of the wrongs that one has suffered, oneself.  It is very hard.

Yet, how Providential that this is exactly what the Lord is teaching me, right now, as I stand on the edge of the cliff of a Momentous Occasion where, once again, hurts seem certain to spring up into eternally engraved memories.

And then, again by the Providence of God, I recently had the opportunity to listen to some excellent audio books of the Chronicles of Narnia.  As these old, familiar stories unfolded, I noticed, from my ever-aging perspective, how constantly Lewis wrote about humility and pride, and the goodness of the one and the tragedy of the other.  He is a master of showing, not telling, and in my older age, he moves me to tears more often than not.

Humility is love, and love is grace, and grace is forgiveness.  It's all one big, inextricable weaving of virtue into a blanket of godliness that covers and heals.

This is what the Lord calls us to.  This is what the Lord calls me to.  He has lavished grace on me, and I must pour grace out on others, following the example of Jesus Himself, who washed His disciples' feet and then poured out His life on the bloody cross of Calvary.  This is what it is to have the mind of Christ (1 Corinthians 2:16).

I think again of those silent, bright, moving snowflakes among the dark, naked maple branches.  In a scene that would have been stark and depressing, they brought lightness.  It is the season of hope.

These three remain: faith, hope and love (1 Corinthians 13:13).  By faith, we believe in the sovereignty and the goodness of God.  This faith begets hope, hope that He will make it all beautiful in His time, as He promises.  Hope finds its fruition in love, both the growing love that we have now because of the presence of the Holy Spirit with us, and the fullness of love in which we will dwell in eternity.  Love is the healing of the nations, love is the safe place where we neither commit nor endure hurts, ever again.

Let all that you do be done in love.

1 Corinthians 16:14

If you follow this principle,
with the help of the Holy Spirit
who works miracles of grace,
you may even be able to go back
and retouch old memories,
bringing beauty from
the ashes of the past.
For this I am truly, deeply, transcendently
thankful.