A Degree I Don't Want

Treasured friend,


I’m pretty sure I qualified for an honorary degree courtesy of walking with Dad through his recent medical odyssey. I’ve secretly aspired to one for years. Not that I don’t appreciate the black robe, and red and white hood I earned for my MA all those years ago at Ball State. I do. I worked hard for it—anyone who’s earned one knows they’re not simply bestowed, they indicate years of effort.

But as much as I’ve wished for an honorary degree I haven’t technically earned, I’m thinking the one I qualified for this summer may not be one I ought to wear with pride. It’s a Ph.W.—you know, a Doctorate of the Philosophy of Worries. You may have qualified for one recently, too. In my waiting-room hours and especially the long nights when I lie awake imagining the absolute worst eventualities, I’m quite sure I’ve taken the study of this particular science to new heights. Oh how I’ve worried, fretted, fidgeted, and feared.

And it’s begun taking its toll. Since I’ve been living it, I haven’t been as conscious of its escalation—or of all the energies I’ve been pouring into this study. But, this afternoon we ran into a nurse who cared for Dad in one of his earlier hospitalizations. We’ve seen her frequently in the ensuing years—and she’s offered a listening ear and wise counsel more times than we could count. Today, as she celebrated with us over Dad’s great news from last week, she squeezed his shoulder. Then she looked Mom and me in the eye. “This has taken its toll on you. All this worry. All this stress. You’re feeling it, aren’t you?”

Mom and I looked at each other. She knows our little secret. She can see in our drawn faces: the color of strain. The tell-tale lines of sleepless nights. The slump of pent-up fatigue. We nodded dumbly—and changed the subject expertly. But I couldn’t get that conversation out of my mind tonight, as I tried to settle my thoughts, calm my upset gut, and un-kink my shoulder muscles in preparation for bedtime.

Something about her concern and her candor reminded me of words our Master just might have said to us in that store aisle today, had He been visibly present:

And which of you by being anxious can add a single hour to his span of life? … 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. But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble (Matthew 6:27-34; ESV).

Gospel writer Matthew records five instances where Jesus chides His devoted but weary and worried followers for their “little faith.” (Matthew 6, 8:26, 14:31, 16:8, 17:20). I looked them up. And for some reason, tonight when I read them again, I wasn’t my usual self—quick to wag my index finger at the disciples. This time, I understood. More than I ever have before, I got the slowness of the disciples to trust the Master when circumstances look hopeless:

• The boat is tossed by relentless winds—and the infuriatingly unconcerned Master sleeps in the bow.
• Peter steps out of the boat and sinks into the waves.
• The ministry team’s tangible reserves of life’s necessities are depleted.
• The cure they pray for is slow in coming.

I get where they were finding their fears. Because I’m there. Right there. Worried, not that the Master can’t intervene. But rather that He won’t. After all, in this life, things don’t always work out with fairy tale endings. Even those who received miracles in the New Testament, eventually passed out of this world and into eternity. Nothing this side is permanent. So it’s easy to worry about that—to look around at circumstances, and waver in my faith. (I’m saying my here, but I’m guessing you’ve been here, too.)

That’s where Jesus’ words in Matthew 6 both challenge and encourage us. Once we get past His nailing me for my little faith and nod in agreement with His realistic assessment that “tomorrow will be anxious for itself” (it will certainly have its share of trouble), we can sink our weary selves into the middle of the passage. Usually, when I read it, I focus on the seeking first His kingdom. Certainly that’s the prescription—ultimately. But tonight, I gravitated more to the “why” we needn’t worry. Abba Father in Heaven knows what’s happening here. He knows what we need. And His arm is ready to act on our behalf—maybe to deliver us from the storm, more likely to support and provide for us through it. He promised He would indeed see to our needs.

So, I believe if He were to be the one to endow me with that honorary doctorate, it wouldn’t be in a joyfully pleasant ceremony. I would look into His eyes and find them disappointed in my lacking faith. I imagine He would say something close to what He told the disciples on those many occasions:  “Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt? Didn’t you know I care? I love you? I’ll add to you all the things I already know you need today—and all those things I know you’ll need tomorrow. Your worry is accomplishing nothing—in fact, less than nothing. It’s hurting you. This is something I don’t want for you. You didn’t need to earn this particular degree. Cease striving, and rest like your Master in the bow of the rocking boat. Your Mighty God has it all under control.”

On second thought, maybe I’ll turn down that degree, and see if I can earn one in a more appropriate field—I think I’ll go for a Ph.F, Doctorate of Faith. As long as it’s well-placed faith in this loving and compassionate Master, it will be worth the work. Want to join me in the preparation and study?

With my prayers for you tonight,

Julie


© 2010, Julie-Allyson Ieron. All rights reserved. For reprint permission, email: orders@joymediaservices.com

Answered Prayer

Treasured Friend,

I want to offer you a glimpse into how the Lord intervened on our family's behalf today--clearly and obviously--and beyond what we expected. First, let me share a portion of the Scripture our pastors Greg and Tim read to Dad (and us) in his hospital room this morning. It's from Psalm 34. When you have time, read the whole Psalm--for it is a faith-builder. But here's a portion of it that rang true for us:

Psalm 34:1-15 (NASB) I will bless the LORD at all times; His praise shall continually be in my mouth.

My soul will make its boast in the LORD; The humble will hear it and rejoice. O magnify the LORD with me, And let us exalt His name together. I sought the LORD, and He answered me, And delivered me from all my fears. They looked to Him and were radiant, And their faces will never be ashamed. This poor man cried, and the LORD heard him And saved him out of all his troubles. The angel of the LORD encamps around those who fear Him, And rescues them. O taste and see that the LORD is good; How blessed is the man who takes refuge in Him! O fear the LORD, you His saints; For to those who fear Him there is no want. The young lions do lack and suffer hunger; But they who seek the LORD shall not be in want of any good thing. Come, you children, listen to me; I will teach you the fear of the LORD. Who is the man who desires life And loves length of days that he may see good? Keep your tongue from evil And your lips from speaking deceit. Depart from evil and do good; Seek peace and pursue it. The eyes of the LORD are toward the righteous And His ears are open to their cry.

And here's what the Lord did for Dad ... as I reported it to my email prayer team just moments ago:

You’re really not going to believe this one … We got to the hospital, went through all the admission, pre-op, our pastors came and prayed with us, and the nurse brought him down for the procedure. They hooked up IV, and put him on the pacemaker monitor and …. his heart had corrected on its own. No procedure!


They came and got Mom and me in the waiting room (I’d read exactly 2 pages of my book) and sent the three of us on our way.

What an answered prayer! I mean no disrespect to our faith here, but we simply can’t believe how God undertook in answer to your prayers and those of each of our loved ones. I have no problem expecting God to heal through doctors and meds, but I’m sure I didn’t have the faith to even ask that He’d intervene on His own without the procedure. Another of God’s special surprises.

May He be with you on your journey today, and show you the surprise of His hand evident and at work in your situation.

Blessings and prayers,

Julie

© 2010, Julie-Allyson Ieron. All rights reserved. For reprint permission, email: orders@joymediaservices.com

Hannah: Grace

Treasured Friend,

I've been posting some material in the last few weeks that hasn't quite been devotional--at least not technically. But, while I'm excited to share with you these items of news--I don't want to miss out on the opportunity to open the Word of God with you. So, for this week's devotion, I'm excerpting a chapter from my newly updated ebook (first printed by Moody in 1998; and revised this year for a new millennium), Names of Women of the Bible. I chose this chapter because in it we see how God has compassion on an exhausted, hurting woman who has no recourse but to carry her burden to Him in prayer. So, enjoy this excerpt from one of my favorite chapters. It represents the story of a woman I can relate to on so many levels. I pray you can, too:


HANNAH: GRACE

I am a woman who is deeply troubled. . . . I was pouring out my soul to the Lord. (1 Samuel 1:15)

It was to be three weeks of bliss. The trip of a lifetime.


I had been chosen to join a touring choir on a mission to Europe. My dear friend Paul Yerden (our church's minister of music) and his wife, Rita Jo, would lead the tour.


While in Germany, we enjoyed the hospitality of host churches. They served us delicious cold cuts and cheese with heavily buttered hard rolls. Every afternoon we stopped at out-of-the-way bakeries for a stretch break and to enjoy luscious cream-filled pastries.


Soon after our arrival, my stomach began to complain. At first it was just a little discomfort, then the pain increased. I missed several concerts, having to lie down backstage while my friends were out front ministering. Discouragement crept in. It wasn't until five years later that my physician discovered the milk allergy—to cream, cheese, butter —that caused these symptoms. All I knew at the time was that I was missing all the good stuff by being sick.


One afternoon Rita Jo pushed a folded piece of paper into my hand. On it she had handwritten the words to the hymn "He Giveth More Grace." I read and reread those words, contemplating their meaning, desiring the grace they bespoke.


Hannah, whose name means grace, came to know that grace intimately during her deep distress. She experienced the miracle-working grace of God, because she carried her burden right to Him.


Hannah had good reason to be depressed. You and I certainly would have been troubled in her circumstance. Peninnah, her husband's other wife, had many children; Hannah had none. Peninnah, the Scriptures say, tormented her rival for Elkanah's attention: "Whenever Hannah went up to the house of the Lord, her rival provoked her till she wept and would not eat" (1 Samuel 1:7). In her pain and in utter disregard for anyone who might be watching, Hannah bared her soul to the Lord, begging Him to give her a son, vowing to give that child back to Him for His service.


In response, the Scriptures record a beautiful phrase, "and the Lord remembered her" (1 Samuel 1:19). She touched the Father's heart with her tears and prayers, and He extended His hand to her. God honored Hannah's sincerity and fervency. He granted her not only that baby, but later He also gave her other sons and daughters.


The American Heritage Dictionary defines grace as "A favor rendered by one who need not do so." God acted graciously on Hannah's behalf, not because He was obligated to do so, but because He chose to do so. Moreover, He displayed His graciousness through her, by using her firstborn son (whom she named Samuel, which means, "heard of God") to rule His people in justice and honor. In his old age, long after his mother was gone, Samuel had the privilege of anointing Israel's greatest king, David.


Hannah's response to the Lord's provision was as exemplary as her request. First, she did as she had promised. She gave the child Samuel to minister in the Lord's temple to become a blessing back to the Lord. Second, she gave all the glory to God, her heart overflowing into a poetic prayer of acknowledgment and thanks. "My heart rejoices in the Lord; in the Lord my horn is lifted high. . . . There is no one holy like the Lord; there is no one besides you; there is no Rock like our God" (1 Samuel 2:1–2).


In some obvious ways, we are unlike Hannah. In few of our homes do two wives of the same man live together (although if they did, feuding would not be unthinkable). And in our culture, inability to have children is not thought to be a curse from God, as it was in Hannah's day.


But in the ways that count, we are very much alike. Our needs, our heavy burdens, the demands of life, and our tormentors and problems too often threaten to overwhelm us. Like I did on my college bus trip, we often suffer alone, when with just a prayer we can call upon the one who will "remember us" as He remembered Hannah all those centuries ago.


The writer of Proverbs noted that God "mocks proud mockers but gives grace to the humble" (3:34). It is a truth James quotes in his epistle (4:6).


It was in humbly pouring out her heart to God that Hannah found her burden lifted. Her life can be an example to us of what God can do—if we do our part. We are told in Scripture what that part is: "Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need" (Hebrews 4:16).


It has been many years since Rita Jo handed me that paper, but I'll never forget its effect upon me. Those words reminded me that God, through His only Son Jesus whom He graciously sacrificed to meet the ultimate need of humanity, stands ready to provide for all my needs through His abundant, overflowing supply. And He does this not because of any obligation, but because He chooses to do so.

My dear, loving Father, I need a portion of that overflowing supply of grace today, and I know so many others around me have that same need. Please provide for me, and equip me to be a conduit of Your grace in the lives of those I love. Amen.


Blessings and prayers, Julie

© 1998, 2010, Julie-Allyson Ieron. Excerpted by permission from Names of Women of the Bible. All rights reserved. For reprint permission, email: orders@joymediaservices.com

Hey Detroit, Windsor -- and Internet Radio Listeners

Hi friends,

I'll be live on WMUZ, Radio, on Wednesday, September 29 -- doing a call-in show on caring for aging parents with Dr. Kenya, Prescriptions for Hope.


I hope you'll tune in--either on air, or by internet. WMUZ is 103.5 in Detroit. http://www.wmuz.com/. Local time for the broadcast is: 9:45-11 a.m. (8:45 Central).

Hope to talk with you on Wednesday!
 
 
Blessings and prayers, Julie © 2010, Julie-Allyson Ieron. All rights reserved. For reprint permission, email: orders@joymediaservices.com