World view

Because I love you

/ J / 1 Comment

The hours I’ve bounced and paced with my son snuggly tucked in my arms are teaching me something. His cries are often relentless, but so are my arms around him. Tears stain both our cheeks and I wish he could rest in what is true: I love him. I find myself telling him, “you are okay. Do you know why? Because I love you. I am going to take care of you. I won’t forget about you.” 

You are okay. Because I love you. Isn’t that what God tells us, His children? 

Motherhood expands and deepens love to the fiercest form I have ever known. As I brim with love for my son, it has awakened my heart and mind to a deeper comprehension of what it means to be a child of God. 

Our day begins in the corner of our living room. Light sprinkles through the windows onto our rug, scattered with toys. I hear a small voice, cooing and babbling, rattles and bells of objects being shaken and traded between tiny hands. I smile at him, and his delightful giggles flitter across the room. Many of my son’s wakeful hours are spent in this 4×4 area. This corner is what he knows, he has little awareness of what takes place beyond his domain. While he explores and learns, he does not comprehend the work done outside the home to earn and provide. He does not comprehend the perpetual cycle of laundry, shopping, or meal preparation that keeps him warm and fed. He is blissfully unaware of the workings around him. 

I think we too often forget God’s presence in our lives, that He is working in ways we do not comprehend. His love as our Father means He won’t forget about you. But in our distress, we often forget His arms are around us. In our contentment we carry on, as if what was placed in front of us is our own doing. To be a child of God should soften our cries and lift our eyes – tear-filled as they may be – to beaming smiles of grace. In both sorrows and blessings, He is holding us with steadfast love.

My desire for my son – to ensure his future, to be with him through all stages in life – points me to the future that God promises me. These longings are only a single note arrayed in the melody of the most beautiful symphony. As children of God, Romans 8 tells us we are God’s heirs. The significance of this is breathtaking compared to what was once our destiny. We were children of a war-torn country; orphans in a land desolate and despairing. Blood saturated the ground to remind us that death was impending. Nothing was clean, not even our water. We were desperate and dirty with thirst unquenched. And then God takes us in. 

The King of the Universe adopts us.

Tim Keller gives an example which helps encapsulate this astonishing truth, “The only person who dares wake up a king at 3:00 AM for a glass of water is a child. We have that kind of access.” We are not only under the reign of the good King, but we are His kids. He loves us enough to personally care for our needs, to be present no matter the hour. His water is cold and clean. And He promises one day our thirst will be forever quenched. There will be ultimate rest, satisfaction, and joy for the children of the King. He has made us His heirs, His inheritance will be ours. 

This inheritance isn’t promised for just today or tomorrow, but forever. As C.S Lewis puts it, “…the cross comes before the crown and tomorrow is a Monday morning. A cleft has opened in the pitiless walls of the world, and we are invited to follow our great Captain inside.”* As we follow him, our paths will mirror that of Jesus, a path against the flow of culture, a path often marked by great cost. Even as our cheeks are stained from the brokenness of this fallen world, we must not forget: we are tucked in the arms of our Father, the King. We may not comprehend His workings, but we can trust His love. He promises to work all things – the wonderful and the terrible – for our good (Romans 8:28). 

“…and if children, heirs also, heirs of God and fellow heirs with Christ, if indeed we suffer with Him so that we may also be glorified with Him.”

Romans 8:17

Friends, a crown is coming. Our inheritance will be in the presence of our Father. We belong to Him and will enjoy Him forever. 

Our future is certain because our Father loves us. We tinker in our 4×4 corner and know we occupy only a sliver of what God is doing for our good; his care for us is beyond what we can see and beyond what we can comprehend. 

He says, you are okay. Because I love you. 

*The Weight of Glory, page 45

These Anxious Humans

/ J / Leave a comment

Said the Robin to the Sparrow, 

“I should really like to know

Why these anxious human beings

Rush about and worry so.”

.

Said the Sparrow to the Robin, 

“Friend, I think that it must be

That they have no heavenly Father

Such as cares for you and me.”

Philip Howard

Motherhood has revealed in what my heart rests, and it is not what I thought. 

I find that my world is suddenly full–full of love and meaning; full of new worries and fears; and full of laundry piles and bursting diaper pails. As I care for my son, embracing all the new tasks and responsibilities, rest seems a fantasy. 

In this new world of motherhood, I can’t simply wait for the weekend or the arrival of “the next stage”. This new world strips away all imitations of rest to clearly show the reality of who was always there. I am learning to be buoyed by God and the rest He is ready to provide. 

My natural inclination each morning is to begin accomplishing tasks, instead of beginning in God’s presence. I choose to worry instead of casting my anxiety on Him. I pray most for sleep, instead of a heart that will seek His strength moment by moment. The flow of my days no longer has that self-validating pattern: work hard then rest. Mothers work hard and–even if in moments of relaxing–ever anticipate their baby waking and needing. Feeling the constant pull of chores half done and a racing mind are not outworkings of a woman who knows God’s love and trusts Him completely.

I realize that my old life’s pattern of productivity, organization, and crossing off the to-do list…to be rewarded with relaxation, only gave me a facade of rest. Motherhood is work never done. Motherhood is caring for a person’s body and soul. The weight of that can not be diminished by crossing it off a list. Motherhood laughs at self-sufficiency. Motherhood has shown me that to rest, I need to remember God’s love and I need to love and trust God first. 

I am learning that for my life to be one that trusts my God, I must be disciplined to remember what He has done and then surrender my days to Him. The love that pulls me to my child must only be an echo of the love that pulls me to my God. My heart quickly forgets that God is my greatest treasure. He cares about every detail – the hiccups in my days (and nights) and stressors I encounter are not a surprise to Him. When I am too tired, too emotionally depleted, and trying to care for my baby through tear-flooded eyes, he is there. All the good I want for my son pales in comparison to the good God wants for him and the good that God has already done. When I stop to think, there is nothing more beautiful, freeing, and restful than to surrender my exhaustion and anxieties to Him.

I am also learning to surrender the outcomes. Some babies cry more, sleep less, and all babies require our time and drastically change what we accomplish. Rest doesn’t come when the dishes are done, the baby is [finally] in bed or occupied enough for some sips of coffee. I am not meant to feel satisfied in the parenting wins or depressed by my feelings of parental incompetence. This great privilege of stewarding a life for God must bring us to Him. 

Elisabeth Elliot wrote: 

“He leads us right on, right through, right up to the threshold of Heaven. He does not say ever ‘Here it is.’ He says only “Here am I. fear not.” 

We can rest today and all of our tomorrows because God is faithful to complete His work in us. We can be certain of his love because Jesus went to the cross for us. He has held nothing back and His work for us is still happening when my kitchen is messy and it’s all I can manage just to feed my baby. He isn’t limited when I climb into bed and feel like I didn’t do enough. God simply wants my obedience to love my family through the strength and rest He is ready to give.

We see evidence of God’s care for us, not only in our salvation but in details of creation. Jesus himself reminds us of his provision: 

“Therefore I tell you, do not be anxious about your life, what you will eat or what you will drink, nor about your body, what you will put on. Is not life more than food, and the body more than clothing? Look at the birds of the air: they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they? And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow: they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you, even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these. But if God so clothes the grass of the field, which today is alive and tomorrow is thrown into the oven, will he not much more clothe you, O you of little faith? Therefore do not be anxious, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the Gentiles seek after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them all.” (Matthew 6:15-32, ESV).

When I am tormented by the “what-ifs” and “should-haves” for my son, I can rest. God gave His son for mine to provide a way for eternity. No matter future joys or tragedies, God is present for the details of our lives. 

We rest because God is working and He loves us. 

“Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? And not one of them is forgotten before God. why, even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, you are of more value than many sparrows” (Luke 12:5-7).

“Thou hast made us for thyself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it finds its rest in thee.”

Saint Augustine

all things new

/ J / Leave a comment

“The more things change, the more they stay the same.” – Sidney Greidanus

The paradox of this line reverberates a truth I see too much as a nurse. The more patients we admit, treat, and discharge, the more I realize that we are in a perpetual cycle. More CHF, more pneumonia, more re-admissions. With new evidence and research, we get better at treatment and identifying problems sooner, but – without fail – hospital census remains high, our beds full.

Healthcare workers are perhaps privileged to see an up-close example of the unchanged human condition and the reality of our world.

Even as our world becomes more connected and progressive, we still have the problems seen throughout history: genocides, abandonment, hunger, and sickness. In our modern world, we address problems different from our history. We have the Geneva Convention and specific laws for international warfare. We have both Child and Adult Protective Services. We have vaccinations and modern medicine. In a way, this is incredible progress. But these interventions are necessary because the fact remains: life on our planet has not really changed. Those with power will abuse it and oppress others for gain. People are prone to prejudice and capable of neglecting those in need. And sickness – no matter how advanced our technology – still causes suffering and death. And with our advances, we have also added equal ethical dilemmas. New life-saving medications are only accessed through significant financial means or the right insurance coverage. Cars come with accidents. International air travel could be a means of terrorist plots. The foster system, designed to care for abandoned children, can also be a place of more abuse and neglect. As we address problems, there is an interwoven complexity of new potential problems.

Ecclesiastes 1:2-11 opens with a poem that expresses the sediment I feel today.

Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher,

vanity of vanities! All is vanity.

What does man gain by all the toil

at which he toils under the sun?

A generation goes, and a generation comes,

but the earth remains forever.

The sun rises, and the sun goes down,

and hastens to the place where it rises.

The wind blows to the south

and goes around to the north;

around and around goes the wind,

and on its circuits the wind returns.

All streams run to the sea,

but the sea is not full;

to the place where the streams flow,

there they flow again.

All things are full of weariness;

a man cannot utter it;

the eye is not satisfied with seeing,

nor the ear filled with hearing.

What has been is what will be,

and what has been done is what will be done,

and there is nothing new under the sun.

Is there a thing of which it is said,

“See, this is new”?

It has been already

in the ages before us.

There is no remembrance of former things,

nor will there be any remembrance

of later things yet to be

among those who come after.

The author of this book – from the ancient world – pours out his heart and his wrestling to which speak to us in the 21st century. The more life changes, the more it stays the same. Life in 2019 is drastically changed from the ancient world, but we as people, our problems, our worries, and our search for a purpose are fundamentally the same.

But if we stop here in Ecclesiastes, we miss the point and beauty of this book. This book teases out the blessings of life, and how without God, they are simply toil and meaningless.

This means that that pattern we observe is not all that there is. History is not merely a cycle of changing, it is the story of God’s redemptive plan.

We are not left on earth to simply pursue what pleasure we can and dodge suffering, we were meant to share the biggest event, the most radical change in all human history. God sent Jesus into our actual historical timeline to answer for suffering and to redeem every square inch of creation.

Sidney Greidanus writes, “As the redemptive history progresses, therefore, there are new events, new realities, and new hopes that God will make all things new. Although people gain nothing from all their toil apart from God, through Jesus Christ there is much to be gained from our toil.”

I stated earlier that healthcare workers are privileged to see an up-close example of the unchanged human condition. We must confront more quickly how depressing and cyclical this life can be on its own. We see the same sufferings and literally the same patients over and over who are dying a slow death from their afflicted chronic illnesses. Often these patients come to us for a patch-up job, just enough to go to a skilled nursing inpatient facility until the next hospital re-admission. They continue with every medical option available because they are tormented by the thought of death.

As Christians, we were meant to share the biggest historical event. We are meant to share that Jesus paid the price for our sin, the precursor to our suffering. We are meant to share that this life is not meaningless, but that we are called to live God’s love for people. We are meant to share the good news that this suffering we see was not God’s intention for creation, but that God uses our suffering to draw us to himself. We are meant to share that one day, all things will be new.

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away” (Revelation 21:4).

Let our co-workers and patients see that we do not cope through jaded cynicism or compartmentalization. Let them see how deep we mourn the sufferings of this world. And let them see how our sufferings cause us to turn to Jesus who gives meaning and hope that transcends our circumstances.

“You will be sorrowful, but your sorrow will turn into joy. When a woman is giving birth, she has sorrow because her hour has come, but when she has delivered the baby, she no longer remembers the anguish, for joy that a human being has been born into the world. So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you. “

John 16: 20-22

coping with hearts; remembering personhood

/ J / Leave a comment

There is a tangible toll on those who are daily immersed in the suffering of others.

Hospitalization is rarely a result of planned procedures. Trauma and sickness are never convenient. Nurses arrive to work with the opportunity to walk with patients and families as they face uncertainty and emotional turmoil. Nurses bear the anxiety that proliferates with every poorly trending lab value or vital sign; they mediate family dynamics and pain that present themselves in crisis; they fight for the wellbeing of the lives in their care.

Some patients and families are grateful. Others are not.

The darkness of human nature is quickly revealed in times of fear and loss of control. Patients are at the expense of medical intervention and their time to the flow of hospital procedures. Too often entitled and inappropriate behavior dominate the day. Entering a room may open the door to objectifying language and reaching hands; to screams of obscenities over something of no consequence; to family members whose actions may uncover motives that are beyond ethically gray.

One patient will trigger the weight of countless hard experiences. Upon discharge, a homeless woman will need insulin, a high-risk medication if administered incorrectly. She is encouraged to use some of her 2,000 dollars, collected every month from social security and disability, to buy a prepaid cell phone that could be used for emergencies. This advice is ridiculous in the eyes of the woman; she demands the hospital pays for her cell phone. A married man – as soon as his wife exits the room – continually tells the bedside nurse that he should come home with her and take her husband’s place. A young patient with an infection in his heart is found crushing narcotic pills and secretly flushing them through his intravenous catheter, undoubtedly making his infection worse. This young patient, having left the hospital against medical advice the week before, leaves again – likely to continue his known drug habit and return to the hospital in worse condition. An old woman lay in the hospital bed, her breathing apneic; she could die between any breath. The old woman’s daughter refuses to put her on hospice and be made comfortable, stating: “I just need her to live until next month so I can get her social security check. When I was a child, she never had compassion for me when I was in pain. Now she knows what that feels like.”

These memories wear on hearts and minds. It is much easier to remember appalling situations than those that are considered polite and acceptable. These memories grow like wild blackberry shoots which are difficult to eradicate or even suppress. Its brambles begin to choke out good and beautiful memories. It becomes easier to treat the illness and not the person. It also becomes easier for caregivers to avoid their own heart.  

The confrontation with human depravity is not just seen in the hearts of others, but can be reflected in the heart of the caregiver. The simplest way to cope is for front-line staff to become numb to the suffering they engage. Patients can become tasks; the temptation is to check off isolated cares and treat diagnoses without having to think and feel the weight of how it is affecting each individual person’s life.

The greatest toll on those that are daily immersed in others’ suffering is to see the weakness and complacency her own heart. It creeps up unexpectedly and deconstructs the idealistic framework that believes – with the right ethical principles – humans can engage perfectly every single time. While this realization is exhausting, it is perhaps the most beautiful. Service should never be out of self-mustered strength. It is not out of labels of being the “wisest” or “most compassionate.” It is because of Christ and His work in broken hearts: “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” (Philippians 1:6).

Christian scholar, Nancy Pearcey writes:

“The problem is that many people treat morality as a list of rules. But in reality, every moral system rests on a worldview. In every decision we make, we are not just deciding what we want to do. We are expressing our view of the purpose of human life.”

For followers of Christ, patient care must be informed by a Christian worldview if there is any hope of escaping either burn-out or cynicism.  

The Gospel shows how cherished human life is. Each person has intrinsic dignity and worth because they are made in the image of God. Jesus’ example of deep love, service, and sacrifice prompts those same actions to others.

When confronted with the reality of human hearts, the only answer is to cling to Christ. Only He can permeate broken hearts to fully engage this world. Often it is easy for beliefs to remain strong intellectually but not lived out in the day-to-day mess.

His work is the balm to burnout. He gives life to love well; to not just see the diagnosis and lists of tasks, but to see the person, who – regardless of voiced thank yous or screamed obscenities – was created by the God who made all life and offers salvation to all life through His own sacrifice.

For those that feel tension and toll between heart and mind, it should be an encouragement. It demonstrates that coping is not through sheer numbness.

Cling to truth and through Christ’s strength do each task remembering the personhood of each patient. With Him, there will be fruit amidst thistles.

“‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weakness, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with my weakness, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong” (2 Corinthians 12:9-10).