IPeter 4:11 Therefore, since Christ suffered in his body, arm yourself also with the same attitude, because he who has suffered in his body is done with sin.
I read this verse the other day, and I had to go back and read it about seven more times. The phrase that struck me was “he who has suffered in his body is done with sin…”
How can anyone be done with sin?
In this state of being refined – day after day, more of the dross being stripped off my soul – I’m left wondering what I’m to do. It’s an odd existence. I feel so close to God, so clear minded, so intent on eternity, so aware that my citizenship is in Heaven.
And then on the other hand, sometimes so lonely. I’m sort of walking a path that can have no companion except Jesus. No one has been this way and returned. No one is guiding me or walking alongside. All of my friends are willing to go with me, and in their hearts, they ARE walking alongside; BUT they can’t really come along; their lives are still pretty firmly planted in the world in which they live.
But I don’t really know where I belong anymore. Most of me is still in this world: doing laundry, making lunches, playing with my children, tidying my house; but at the same time, the rest of me is in this new place, a place where making long term plans seems presumptuous, and where I don’t really know what to do with myself. It’s a place of transition, maybe.
Part of me wants to forget that I’m sick, and go on as before. And maybe that’s what I SHOULD do; maybe I should just continue on as if nothing had happened, and live my life as best I can until I can’t, anymore, or until I’m restored to health.
But that seems so dishonest. So, then I think that maybe I need to prepare in some way for what is to come. The problem is that I don’t know WHAT is to come, so I don’t know what to do. And this is a source of anxiety to me. I like to know what’s coming. I like to prepare, and make lists, and check things off, and accomplish things. So, this state of transition is sometimes very stressful. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I SHOULD be doing. So, I become restless and agitated.
Part of me thinks that I need to be preparing myself for Heaven. But, I don’t know how to do that.
Another part thinks that I need to prepare myself for pain and suffering. If I am going to get more sick, and eventually die, then, I need to be ready for that – somehow I need to store up my resources, and get ready for the long road of suffering to come. If, I am dying, then I probably need to face the fact of long term hospital time, drug induced stupors, pain, loneliness…..Sigh. I don’t know how to do that either. And how ridiculous to think that it’s possible to do such a thing? But that’s me. I like to be prepared for any eventuality.
And then I need to prepare my children for life without a mother. But, I don’t know how to do that either – does that mean writing lists? Does that mean shopping for Christmas presents? Does that mean writing a journal of my life? Does that mean composing letters for every major event in their future? I don’t know.
So, I came to a point last week, of utter bewilderment.
What do I do?
What SHOULD I do?
What does God want of me?
How should I then live?
God has brought me so far in the last two months – I’ve shed years of bondage to so many things; I’ve relinquished strongholds, and given up control. I’ve opened up, and let go. And yet, I’m not done with sin.
The sin of thinking that I need to act. The sin of thinking that my future is in my control. The sin of taking over from the God who has all things in His grip. The sin of needing to DO, and not merely BE.
Many years ago I worked in the kitchen of a summer camp. One summer, the cook was a very high stress individual. She was restless, and anxious. She worked really hard, and was always striving to keep several steps ahead of the game. I understood why: she was feeding two hundred people three meals a day. It WAS stressful. Add to that ovens that didn’t always work, program staff that sometimes ran late, food orders that arrived at mealtimes, and you can see why every day brought challenges that seemed sometimes overwhelming. One day this woman just snapped. The ovens had overheated, and the macaroni was ready 40 minutes early. Program staff couldn’t possibly ring the lunch bell so early, especially since the campers were scattered all over the island. In despair, and thinking that this overcooked lunch somehow reflected on her abilities, or her personhood, she just slammed down her wooden spoon, and stalked out of the kitchen, never to return.
A few days later, Elvera walked into the kitchen. She had been to camp as a nurse volunteer, but she had never worked as a cook. Ever. And here she was, walking into a strange kitchen, and cooking three meals a day for two hundred campers and staff.
She was remarkably cool about it.
I remember on day two, I stood bedside her as she stirred a pot of soup on the stove (mouthwatering soup, I ‘d like to add.)
“This is nice,” I said.
“Oh, I’m glad you like it,” she said, thinking I meant the soup.
“No, not the soup,” I explained, “The atmosphere in this kitchen. It’s so calm.”
“What makes the difference?” she asked.
“There’s no striving,” I said.
She smiled at that, and then she explained that when she had been praying about this opportunity, she had asked God what to do. She wanted the job, but had no real experience, and while she felt confident she COULD do it, she wanted to know what God thought.
He said to her that she needed to take one day at a time; in fact, that she should take one meal at a time
He told her NOT to prepare ANYTHING for the next day. He said that each day had enough for itself, and that’s what she needed to turn her attention to.
It might be that I’ve thought of this story because Elvera has been a huge presence in my house lately: she comes for my chemo treatments and stays for the week.
It may be that I’ve been reflecting on my past, and thinking of all those who have guided and mentored me: she is my Jedi Master in the kitchen, and in the things of Jesus.
Or, it may be that this is God’s word to me, as I ponder what I should be doing. Maybe God is saying to me that I don’t need to do anything for “the future.” Maybe I need to do one day at a time. Or, better yet, maybe I need to BE in one day at a time, and not DO at all. The desert wanderers gathered enough manna for ONE DAY; the disciples learned to ask God for DAILY bread.
No advanced preparation. No homework. No complicated lists, or hoops to jump through. No performance.
Daily bread.
So, what do I do in this season of transition, or how do I live? I received the answer as I read Pslam 27. “One thing I ask of the Lord, this is what I seek; that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the Lord and seek Him in His temple.”
Simple. Just BE. Find Him where I know He lives, and soak in His beauty.
And what will happen when trouble comes? What will happen, if I haven’t done any preparation?
“For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his tabernacle and set me high upon a rock.”
I am already there, where He lives, and so He does the work of saving me. It has ALWAYS been His job to do the saving. Why would it be any different at the end of my life, than it was at the beginning? At the beginning, I didn’t even have faith by myself. My faith is a gift from God. My salvation has always come from Him, and it always will.
My role is to wait upon Him. To BE.
“I am still confident of this; I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong, and take heart and wait upon the Lord.”
