Free Indeed

I turned on the tv and no sooner was watching the portrayed Jesus be whipped and mocked in The Passion of the Christ. Instant tears. It’s so unfair. I still suck. Jesus is so good. Too good. not possible. But it is. He is. And He is alive!

but all i could think about at that point was the depth of suffering Jesus endured even before He was placed on the cross. It almost made the cross seem like a bittersweet end - at least no one was beating Him while He hung there.

There’s something I cannot get out of my mind. When the nails were about to be hammered into Jesus’ hands and feet, everything in me wanted to go back in history and take those nails for Him. He didn’t deserve any of them, nor the beatings, thorns they call a “crown”, or jeers hurled at Him. I deserved all of that and more. Yet, I needed those nails to pierce Jesus’ skin and crush His bones and hold Him on that cross. More-so, I needed Jesus’ love, exactly as it did, to take Him to the cross and keep Him there, even when He was separated from God on my behalf. See, what those jeerers did not realize is that Jesus could have gotten off of the cross; He stayed - chose to stay - that with His last breath on that cross in the darkness and with the newness of His resurrection, He could breathe life into my dying soul.

“…’Why do you seek the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. …’” (Luke 24:5-6)

The entirety of this post is taken from the Journey blog. Click to go to the actual blog post: Healer God

“You are right.” He says.

I look up into the shy smile I have grown to love so much. Day 178 of bandaging this wound, and it is almost gone.

Makerere is not one to strike up conversation usually, so I probe. “Right about what?”

“That thing you say. You know. About even bad things being used for our good and all of it working for God’s glory even when we can’t see it. You are right. If I hadn’t been burnt we might not be friends, you know. And If I hadn’t come to live here, I would still be drinking and mostly, I wouldn’t know about that Jesus,” he laughs, “Jesus.”

I focus my gaze back on the bandage to hide the happy tears. I am right, but sometimes, I need reminding.

****

Sometime in April, Christine pulled up in my van. “I have a patient for you,” she said as she opened the back door. I knew he was in bad shape as he tumbled out, and I could feel the vomit surge hot in my throat as I caught that first glimpse of his leg – skin burnt charcoal black, bone exposed, nothing even still alive enough to bleed.

I knew this man. At least, I thought I did. As the village drunk of Masese, he was a constant annoyance to me. I was appalled but not surprised to learn that while he was passed out in the middle of the day, some neighbors lit his house on fire. The fire caught his leg and he crawled out just in time to watch his neighbors steal all his remaining belongings from inside.

And thus began the season that I though would heal him, but instead healed me.

He moaned as I injected painkiller and mumbled a story that I couldn’t understand. I prayed over his wound and over his heart, and when he fell asleep on the porch, I didn’t make him move but draped a blanket over him instead and I didn’t realize that just this simple action would be the beginning of coming to love the newest member of our family.

The doctor at the best hospital around told me he would lose his leg if I didn’t dress and clean it daily. That probably he would lose it anyway. At this point, I don’t think he cared one way or another, but I did. Just months earlier, tragedy had struck our family. And although I had no idea at the time, Jesus was bringing about my own healing by drawing me into someone else’s. I couldn’t verbalize it then, but it is as if my heart screamed, “I lost my daughter. I lost my reality. You will not lose your leg. You will not lose yours.” And so I threw myself into becoming an expert on third degree burn care.

For hours each day I scraped the dead skin from this wound and God scraped at the dead places of my heart. Buried places that, though I would never say it, somehow doubted that God could be good, all the time, when my daughter’s bed lay empty. And I said it out loud, to him and to myself. God uses all for good. For His glory. God is using this, I said, and I smiled at new pink life showing through and though I didn’t recognize it yet, God was growing new life out of the very hardest places of my heart.

For a month he came and went. I would bandage the leg and send him home; he would return the next day and I would almost be thankful that he was drunk because even still the pain was excruciating. I would wash and scrape and scrub and dress and I cry and I would say to that wound and to anyone who would listen, “We will not lose this leg.” Others from the community stepped over our new friend asleep on the porch and they shook their heads. “You can’t save ‘em all. Not this one, Katie.” But I am stubborn. And God is relentless.

Eventually he just moved in to the little house in our back yard. This made finding him at bandaging time quite a bit easier and it allowed me to make sure he wasn’t drinking. As he began to sober up, we began to have longer conversations; he would tell me all about his life and his family before he became an alcoholic and found himself homeless in Masese and I would tell him about a Savior born as an infant in a feeding trough and nailed to a tree. He questioned everything I said about God’s goodness and sovereignty, and I know that as I was answering him, I was answering myself, too. In the darkest place of my life God had me testify each day exactly who I knew Him to be. In those hours of wound bandaging He was introducing Himself to me again. The Working All For Good God. The Still and Always Faithful God. The God who sees who we are and uses all the broken places to make us who we are becoming. I said these things out loud and I watched God make them true all over again.

And this is what I learned: the hard does not minimize His goodness but allows us to experience His goodness in a whole new way.

252 days of wrapping and talking and laughing and crying later, new skin covered this once dead area. The leg that so many thought was lost could walk and even run. And the man that so many thought was hopeless had been sober for over 6 months. A week later, this physically healed man walked into my kitchen as grinned from ear to ear. “I believe it,” he announced, “today I believe that Jesus is the Son of God.” Simple as that.

I didn’t try to contain my excitement as I danced around the kitchen that day, and I still daily choke back tears as the time I once spent wrapping his leg in gauze is now spent scouring the Bible together for the answer to his every question.

The burnt area on his leg is still a few shades lighter than the skin surrounding it. “Can I look at your leg?” I ask often, and he knows why. “See what God did?” he will chuckle. And we both see so much more than new skin.

Jesus. He met us right where we were, right there on the cold hard tile of my sun room, and He took two broken people, so different and yet so much more alike and showed us the scars on His hands and said its ok if we have some too because the scars are always drawing us to Him.

(Source: almaresco)

Back there is where
I long to be,
but back right now
He’s not called me.

Tonight my heart longs. Maybe some day. For good. Maybe not. prov19.21. content and hopeful.

John Greenleaf Whittier

(Source: butthorn, via wildwendes)

spiritualinspiration:

ivychiu:

Light works most effectively in the dark. You are meant to dispel darkness.
Pack light, travel light. This world is not your home.
Don’t just watch, participate.
Always do what scares you.
Give thanks in all circumstances.
When it feels like all hope is lost, it’s not. Hope anyway.
You are right where you’re supposed to be.
You have a Maker, and you are His.

and enjoy it.
maybe even go for a swing!

mmhmm! Soon, very soon, I will be doing this (minus the dog - tho I would love having one)! I am SUCH a fan of fire places - a great reminder to simply cherish one another, however I also love falling asleep with the exuding warmth that is incredibly soothing! I hope to read a lot over the break, as I have a decent amount of books that I’ve been wanting to read. There are family members and friends to spend time with, and s’mores to be roasted! What a wonderful time of year :D

such a cute idea

love this!

(via tableystreet)

wishing it would snow!!!

(via tableystreet)

An article online states:

“The music that comes out of [an acoustic guitar] is a matter between the guitar and its player.”

YES! I love playing.
Why?
Worship of a lone creature praising the Creator is of the utmost intoxication!! It’s truly indescribable. So I continue to play, though finals beckon. Speaking of….tis study time. May your day be filled with cheer!

“If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world.”

-C.S. Lewis