THE BODY OF CHRIST AT WORK

Today at church we had the privilege of hearing our teens share their experiences on a missions trip to West Virginia from which they recently returned.  Having been on three missions trips with many of them, I couldn’t wait to hear how the Lord had worked in and through them while they were away.  And I confess I was more than a little sorry that I had not gone.

Back in the late spring I was having a rough time.  I had two infections at once and was exhausted.  Then the medication I was given messed with another I was regularly taking making me feel really out of it and not up to some of the things I was doing.  One of those things was ministering with the senior high youth group. 

I love those kids (I’m not supposed to refer to them as “kids”, but they’ll always be kids to me!).  They are fun and energetic and passionate and laid back and just plain great to be around.  Working with them keeps me young in my thinking, helping me to see things from their perspective, which is invaluable in the body of Christ, and essential for those of us drawing close to the end of ministry while they are just beginning. So while I knew it was time to step away from a physically demanding missions trip, I had very mixed feelings about doing so.

Today they shared how the Lord used them, not only to build, and that they did, but also to encourage the physical and spiritual strength of the team already on the ground.  That team, young adults working with Next Step Ministries, had already been working for 7 weeks, welcoming youth teams from all over who came to build. 

They were responsible for the work sites and the training of many teens who had never done things like dry walling, or spackling, or putting a roof on a new building.  They bought the food to feed them all and were responsible to supervise its preparation. They were up before the kids and to bed much later. 

 

So when our team arrived, these young adults were tired and discouraged.  So not long after our kids got there, they saw that the Lord had something else in mind for  their mission, not “simply” working, but building encouragement into the lives of others.  I have no doubt that they were a huge blessing and it gave me such joy to hear how the Lord had used them. 

That would have been blessing enough for any worship service but this one ended in a way that added blessing upon blessing.  At the end of the service the young woman sitting next to me suggested getting together a group of women to pray with me and Jennifer, the woman to whom I will be donating a kidney this coming Wednesday, August. 14. 

So there we both sat, surrounded by the women of our church who laid their hands on each of us and prayed for us.  We felt so moved, so loved, and so abundantly blessed by these, our sisters in Christ. 

I have often written about how ministries like missions trips and Vacation Bible School bring the body of Christ together. I have commented about how that togetherness in ministry knits us together as people of faith as we serve the Lord.  And I saw that again today as our young people gave their testimonies about their trip. 

But working together isn’t the only way in which the Lord reminds us of our connectedness as the body of Christ.  Prayer also reminds us that we have a common Heavenly Father and a common Savior and that we are a family of believers and praying is what we do. 

On Wednesday Jennifer and I will each set off for the hospital where we will be surrounded by strangers who will perform surgery on us.  At the same time, the body of Christ, wherever they are, all who know about us – maybe even YOU reading this blog in some other nation in the world – will be united in prayer for us as well, and our God, who is Almighty and Loving, will hear and answer for Jesus' sake.

What a privilege to be part of the body of Christ!

 

THE CONSCIENTIOUS OBJECTOR WHO WON THE MEDAL OF HONOR

Last night Jim and I watched a fascinating documentary about a man named Desmond Doss.  Desmond Doss, like thousands of other young men, enlisted in the military shortly after the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor on December 7, 1941. The difference between Doss and the others is that he enlisted as a conscientious objector.  He passionately wanted to serve his country, but he made it clear from the start that he would not take the life of a fellow man and he would not carry any weapons.  His plan was to become a medic so that he could save life and not take it. 

So (and if you ever you served in the military, you’ll appreciate the irony of this), the Army assigned him, not as a medic, but to the infantry division. The idea seemed to be that if he was forced to do so, Doss would have to use a weapon to defend himself.  But the Army hadn’t reckoned on the tenacity of Doss’s convictions. 

Doss was a Christian and as such, he firmly believed in and obeyed the 10 Commandments given by God to Moses (see the book of Exodus, chapter 18 in the Bible), in this case the one that said, “You shall not kill”.  Carrying a weapon presumed you'd be ready to use it if necessary.

Under extreme pressure from commanding officers, one of which demanded that Doss take a rifle from his hands or be court martialed, Doss stood firm.  Not even threats to run him out of the Army, or abuse from fellow soldiers could turn his resolve.  In the end, the Army relented, trained him as a medic and even allowed him to forgo wearing a 45 pistol as a side arm. 

Doss carried out his plan “to save life and not take it” well.  A fellow soldier described how at night, after a day of fierce battle when the men were told to hunker down in foxholes, Doss would crawl from hole to hole treating injured men. But it was in the battle on Okinawa in the South Pacific that Doss supremely distinguished himself. 

The military was assigned the task of taking a ridge occupied by the Japanese.  The battle raged for days with the US army taking the ridge and then losing it again, with great loss of life. Men who served with Doss described how, with bullets whizzing through the air and wounded men falling all around, Doss crawled out onto the battlefield, dragging injured men to the edge of the ridge and then over it to safety.  When all was said and done, he had done this for 75 men without regard for his own life, even saving some of the men who had been so hard on him before for not carrying a weapon.

Others described how at later time, when Doss himself was wounded, he insisted in getting up off the stretcher on which he was being carried in order to dress the wounds of another injured man on the battlefield.

As a result of his heroism, Desmond Doss was recommended for commendation and awarded the Medal of Honor. Throughout his entire time of service he had never lifted a weapon even to defend himself.

One of the questions some of the men who served with him asked while describing the extraordinary sacrifices Doss was willing to make for others was, “Why would anyone do that?”.  The answer is: For love.

Desmond Doss’s story is a love story.  It’s the story of an ordinary man’s love for an extraordinary God.  It’s the story of an ordinary man’s conviction to demonstrate that love through obedience to God’s Word, unwaveringly, and at great cost to himself. And it's the story of an ordinary man following His Savior in pouring out love and service to his fellow man.

But it isn’t Desmond’s story.  It’s God’s story, a story He lived out more than 2000 years ago.

It’s the story of a God who so loved the world that He gave the best that He had – His own son.  And it’s the story of the Son who, out of love and obedience to His Father, laid down His own life for the lives of others. At great cost, so that men and women whose faith rests in Him might not die, but live eternally.

Desmond Doss was an ordinary man who lived his entire life in relationship with Jesus. Desmond Doss determined to follow Jesus in obedience.  In doing so, he lived an extraordinary life of purpose, demonstrating the love of God in his care for others at great cost to himself, and bringing glory and honor to the God who saved him.

That’s the kind of life I want to live, don’t you?

EMMA'S STORY

It was November 1996, a Thanksgiving weekend, and all of my family – my mom and her new husband, my brother and his wife and their four boys, my husband and our two daughters, and one boyfriend and I, were in Massachusetts for a family reunion weekend.  We’d had a great time visiting, playing games at night, going to Sturbridge Village, and browsing through the craft fair that happened to be there as well that weekend.  Everyone was having a great time, except our 16 year old daughter Becky, who was feeling tired and nauseous the entire time.  We encouraged her to come for meals and try and eat something but aside from feeling sorry that she wasn’t feeling well all weekend, the rest of us did our best to have a good time. 

Then on Saturday evening when we were all sitting around after dinner visiting by the fireplace in the hotel lobby, my eldest daughter Amy came to get me.  She pulled me aside and told me that Becky wanted to see me up in our room.

I arrived to find Becky sitting on the side of the bed crying.  I think she began to talk about needing to tell me something but that would make me really mad when I heard it.  I encouraged her that I would be able to take whatever it was, but after just a few minutes of waiting for her to screw up the courage to say what it was, I knew.

Becky had been dating a young guy, a friend of my nephews, for a few months.  I didn’t know for certain that they had had a physical relationship, but I suspected it.  Before the words were out of Becky’s mouth, I knew.  She was pregnant.  After assuring her that whatever lay ahead we’d manage together, I left to find the rest of our family.

First I told my husband Jim, and we felt the full blast of shock together.  We had just lived through some very difficult years and thought that we had at last seen the light at the end of that particular tunnel, only to round the bend and find another one, different but also life shattering.

It was impossible not to tell the family who saw our faces and immediately began wondering what had suddenly upset us so much.  So we told them, and found ourselves as a family weathering the shock and giving support as we could.  We still had an evening together before heading home, but our fun time together had been eclipsed by sadness.

I remember driving home the next day looking back at Becky while she slept and thinking, “She’s so young.  What in the world were we going to do?”

One thing that we knew we were going to do, my husband and I, was to encourage Becky that we would support her in the days ahead, whatever that looked like and whatever it took.  I knew Becky.  She had a soft heart.  I knew she could never have an abortion and I was pretty certain she’d have a very hard time giving her child up for adoption.  And so Jim and I began to talk about what we could do to help her.

Becky was a junior in high school.  We certainly wanted her to finish out the school year, have her baby that summer, and return to finish high school in the fall.  So it was decided that I would continue to work at my job at a large medical testing lab until the summer Becky would give birth and then I would leave my job and stay home with her baby while Becky finished high school.

The months following Becky’s news were so difficult.  She had morning sickness and spent weeks on the couch.  Tutors came to our home so that she wouldn't fall behind in her education.  When she finally did return to school (an all girls school) there was no denying her pregnancy.  She became, “that pregnant girl”, to those who attended her school.  And there were many instances where she drew the stares of others whenever she was out in public.  Yet, I was so proud of her for choosing to carry her baby to term.

There were difficulties with the dad, who was having struggles of his own accepting that he would be a father.  Many long and heated arguments ensued over those months.

Then came the day, August 2, 1997 when Becky entered the hospital to give birth and we were able to see Emma Brooke Elwood, the most beautiful little baby in all the world, for the very first time!

It’s impossible to imagine how our lives would have been without Emma, but I have often wondered, and have come to the conclusion that they would be impoverished. 

From the infant with the black hair and the perfectly round face, to the toddler with the fake (“smile for us Emma”) smile, to the elementary child with whom I played “Roller Coaster Tycoon” for an entire summer, to the lovely young lady she is today, Emma has added so much joy to each of us individually, to us as a family, and to her dad and mom.

Today, impossibly, Emma turns 17.  What a joy and treasure she is to us! 

Thank you Lord for this wonderful child with which you’ve blessed our family.  We cannot imagine life without Emma.  We’re so thankful that we don’t have to!

LIVING ON THE EDGE OF ADVENTURE!

Most of our lives are kind of ordinary, I know mine is.  Much of my days, weeks, months and years have been made up of routine.

I get up, have coffee, watch the news.

I make beds, do laundry, clean, prepare meals.

I food shop, run errands, occasionally meet a friend, read books.

I talk with my husband, my daughters, my family.

I read my Bible, prepare lessons, teach Sunday school, attend church, pray.

I go to bed, get up and do it all over again.

Now and then my life has been punctuated by special joys: like getting an advanced degree, having children and a grandchild, teaching the Bible. Often it has included difficulties and sorrow.  It's probably a lot like your life.

A week before my mom died I turned 60.  I spent that day and the next week of days at her bedside.  Reaching such a significant age myself just as Mom was coming to the end of her life brought me face to face with the reality of death and life’s brevity.  I began to think in terms of how I wanted to spend whatever time is left to me, so I started a list I call, “things I’ve done after the age of 60”.  Some of the things on that list are:

·        Serving on an actual jury and loving it! 

·        Zip lining in Canada with Jim

·        Riding a camel and a motorcycle

·        Climbing a rock wall (indoors)

·        Taking a cruise with both my girls and their husbands and families

·        Tutoring a lovely Japanese women in English

All of these have been “whoo hoo!” moments of celebration and joy and some have even been lots of fun, but not a one compares to living on the edge of a God-designed adventure of dependence on Him.

That’s what this coming kidney donation is for me.  There is a part of me that is scared about all the “what-ifs” that go with having surgery of any kind.  Things like infections, a difficult recovery, or even death.  But then there is the other side of me that views this whole thing as another of those exciting God things in which He invites us to participate.

How can Jennifer (my kidney recipient) and I not get excited about what lies ahead when we have so clearly seen the Lord answer our prayers and guide our actions? 

For years it had been Jennifer’s prayer that when it came time for a transplant the Lord would bless her with a pre-emptive, live donor.  And the Lord answered her prayers by moving my heart to investigate if I could be her donor so that everything was in place for a transplant before it was time to undergo dialysis!  What were the chances that this particular miracle could have come about by chance?  Ask anyone waiting on a transplant list and you'll find out how rare it is to find someone, never mind find someone so quickly.

With the surgery scheduled just two weeks from today Jennifer and I have been praying together every day on the phone, encouraging one another and getting excited together as we anticipate what lies ahead.

We are getting ourselves spiritually prepared as well, drawing closer to the Lord and His Word in preparation for bringing Him glory in the way we go through these days of waiting, during the recovery process, and in the way we make Him known to our families, and those who will care for us. 

I have a friend Lisa who owns a dog named Elbe.  I love that guy!  When I visit her house he greets me with barking long before I even reach the door.  Then, when I step inside, he leans up against me while I pet him, and as I start to walk away it’s as if he’s glued to my leg with Velcro!  Where I go, Elbe goes!  I love that about him.  Leaning in is what Jennifer and I are doing while we spend these two weeks preparing.  Where the Lord goes, we go, sticking to Him like Velcro!  I'm sure He loves it when His children do that!

There is NOTHING like a faith adventure to cause you to realize your complete human inadequacy to go where God is leading and to throw you, body, soul, and spirit on the Lord in dependence!  So you learn to lean in – to rest in Him, and to draw on His resources of strength, power, peace and purpose. 

In just two weeks Jennifer and I are going to undergo surgery.  It’s anxiety producing now, and will most assuredly give us both some pain afterward.  But in the end, neither one of us would want to miss for a single minute the excitement of living on the edge when we’re on adventure with the Lord!

ASSIGNMENT #1

A month ago now I finished a series of classes to train as a hospice volunteer.  Hospice is considered end of life care, made available when it is estimated that a person has 6 months or less of life.  Instead of providing measures to prolong life such as a hospital would do, hospice provides a peaceful setting, and pain medication to keep a patient comfortable until their life’s end.  Hospice is a great source of support to family members as well.

My experience of being with my mom through the last five weeks of her life and through her own hospice care was so positive and blessed that I wanted to be able to do that for others. 

Because I am a Christian, I really wanted to be able to be an instrument of the:

“God of all comfort, who comforts us in our troubles so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God.” 

2 Corinthians 1:3b-5

A hesitation I had of working with the hospice program of a local hospital is that of having to be sensitive to all religious backgrounds.  I do have a respect for the belief systems of others, but because I’m a Christian I’m much more prepared to give the kind of comfort which will resonate with and give comfort to believers in Christ. 

In addition to my mom, I also visited with Hilda, whom I wrote about in another blog.  With each of these believing women, I was free to read from the Bible and to sing hymns and encourage them with the hope of heaven.  That’s the kind of experience I longed to bring to my hospice volunteering.  So, I’ve kept in the back of my mind that idea that if I find I don’t know how to give comfort apart from the faith in which I stand, then I might eventually offer my services in a local Christian nursing home.

Today I visited my first patient.  When I met yesterday with the hospice volunteer coordinator she assigned this lady to me with this comment:  “I saw an open Bible on her dresser, so you might want to read it to her and pray.”  I was overjoyed! 

I walked into the room to find the patient quietly sleeping.  I gently spoke to tell her who I was and that I was there to visit and then, for the next 40 minutes I read God’s Word.  I read from the Psalms of David, from the words of Jesus in the gospels, and from the promises of the New Heaven and the New Earth from the book of Revelation.  Aside from a slowing of her respiration, there was no response from the patient.

I’m sure not all of my hospice experiences will be like this, but this was certainly a blessed way to begin. 

 

 

WE HAVE A TRANSPLANT DATE!

If you have been following my blogs then you know that it has been nearly a year since I began the process of qualifying to be a kidney donor, and much, much longer still for my friend Jennifer to be in the place of finding one healthy kidney to replace her diseased kidneys.  Well, the date has finally been set.  On Wednesday, August 14, I will give, and Jennifer will receive, a healthy kidney.

Just the other day I shared with someone about this and they asked if I was sure I knew what I was doing.  Being sure isn’t something I’ve struggled with at all. 

Last summer I, like all the members of our church, knew that Jennifer was on the list for a deceased donor kidney.  Then the doctors gave her the news that in six months to a year she would have to go on dialysis.  So, at the urging of her daughters, Jennifer posted on Facebook a link with information about the process of becoming a living donor.  She wasn’t asking at all for someone to donate to HER, just putting the information out there in case someone might be interested.

I’ve had several surgeries and I can’t say that seeing the link made me say, “Boy, that sounds great!  I think I’ll volunteer!”  It did however, start me thinking, and I knew that the prompting to think was at the direction of God the Holy Spirit, because it wasn’t a here today, gone tomorrow, thought.

What I did think was, “Okay, Lord, this seems like your leading, so I’ll take the first step and see what happens”.  Before I knew it, over the next many months, one step lead to another and then another, all with good test results, until I was finally approved as a donor.  We have been waiting now for many months for Jennifer's kidneys to indicate that the time had come to do the transplant.

Many people from church knew about the transplant by word of mouth but yesterday was the first day that it was put in the bulletin and so many people, out of kindness, greeted me, and without meaning to, made me uncomfortable.

On the one hand, Jennifer and I are counting on the prayers of God’s people and we certainly want them to be praying for us and encouraging us with their words and so they need to know that the surgery is coming soon.  But I'm so uncomfortable when people make it sound as if I am some kind of super person for doing it.  I am SO not! 

I am though prone to pride.  Prone to believe that I really am quite hot stuff.  There is real danger for me in those comments, so let me answer this question for you:

Why am I undergoing an unneeded surgery to give up a perfectly good kidney? 

Well, when I was considering following up on what it takes to be a donor, I did what most of do when faced with a major decision.  I reasoned and came up with this:

·        I’ve had many surgeries and they don’t really scare me.  Surgery wasn’t a stumbling block.

·        I have two perfectly good, healthy kidneys and can certainly spare one for someone who has two diseased kidneys.

·        I’m 66, I think I can live with some diminished kidney function for whatever remaining days the Lord gives me. 

·        I’m in pretty good shape for my age.

·        Jennifer is a woman who loves life.  If I can help give her more good years, then why not?

The absolute bottom line however, and the reason why I didn't dwell on the "What if's", (like surgery complications, infections, even death) was that the Lord had laid Jennifer and her situation on my heart.  It's why I went ahead, and why I couldn't say no, and why I have no second thoughts now.

Does that mean that I’m not anxious?  No, I’m anxious.  Who wouldn’t be anxious about having surgery? 

 

Does that mean that those "what if's" don't occasionally make me afraid?  No. 

 

But, when all is said and done, my over arching emotion is peace.

Today I read in Psalm 29 what David said about God.  He said:

“The LORD is enthroned as King forever, He gives STRENGTH to His people.  He blesses His people with PEACE.”

This is not a situation likely to make Jennifer or me feel strong and at peace.  Humanly, we don’t have what it takes! 

 

However, it is a HUGE encouragement to know that the LORD does! He promises us all the strength and peace we need - every day, every moment, for as long as we need it - and He will deliver!  He IS delivering!   

Without the Lord’s leading, I wouldn’t have the courage for this.  I would not have pursued it.  I would not have gone through the testing.  I would be running the other way now.  But He has led and because HE is in this, He and He alone, deserves any praise.

So please do not tell me I’M something, instead, do what David says in Psalm 29:1:

Ascribe to the LORD GLORY and STRENGTH.  Ascribe to the LORD

 the GLORY DUE HIS NAME.

MYSTERIES, MONKS AND GREGORIAN CHANTS

I love reading mysteries.  I enjoy the mental puzzles they present as the intrigues unfold.  I enjoy pondering the truths and lies that make for a good mystery by sending us readers down numerous rabbit trails that have nothing to do with the crime.  I love believable characters with depth and complexity.

I prefer the kinds of mysteries set in little English villages because their murders are more about the intrigue than the blood and guts murder itself, and usually contain little, if any, swearing or sexual content.  If a plot is intricate, the characterization interesting, and the setting one in which I could picture myself, I can get lost and finish a book in a day.  So when I picked up a book this week that had all of those, I was hooked! 

The murder plot was set in an abbey, of all places!  Not just any abbey, but one hidden away on an island in Quebec, unknown and practically unreachable, inhabited by a cloister of monks everyone thought no longer existed.  Until they made a recording of Gregorian chants and gained worldwide attention.  Everything went downhill from there.

The book was riveting and I loved every minute of it, was sorry when I was finished and had to put it down.  But in the end, it wasn’t the story itself that still has me thinking about it.  It was it’s setting in an abbey and not just any abbey, but in an abbey which was home to Gregorian chant singing monks. 

The author’s description of the beauty and solitude of the abbey, with the worshipful voices of monks filling it with joyful sound, spoke to the longing in my heart for that same kind of solitude. I could even picture the place.  The coolness of the stone walls, the simplicity of the furnishings, the smell of incense, the quiet of the monks who, when they weren’t singing, were absolutely silent.  I could imagine the enclosure within the walls where the animals were kept, and another which was a garden.  I could picture the monks in their robes and sun hats working quietly outdoors at their various chores.  I wanted to BE there!

If you’ve read my blogs before then you know that I am a quiet person.  Any impression you have from knowing me personally that causes you to believe I am NOT an introvert is a work of the Lord.  He made me to be a quiet and contemplative person, but being a follower of Jesus necessitates loving people and being with them as well.  So over the years that I have walked with Him, He has also formed me into a people person.  So I teach, and counsel women, and work with pre-teens and teens, but because I am an introvert, in order to do so, I have to recharge my batteries, and for me that necessitates some solitude.

So when I read about the abbey, that’s where my heart went, to my need for some solitude and their setting for solitude sounded like something I would love – not as a life style because I don’t believe we’re called to that as Christians – but certainly on the short term, as a battery charging station!

Reading about those monks stirred up a longing – not only for solitude – but for me, what solitude provides – a chance to draw closer to the Lord without any distractions.  

 

What distracts you from your relationship with the Lord?  Lots of things get in the way of mine. 

The lack of solitude.  I live under the same roof with 3 generations of Elwoods, and I love them all dearly.  But, as you can imagine, my life is kind of people intensive.  In order for our situation to work we need to be considerate of others and that means compromise.  We eat together and then we try and maintain our own family space.  When I was younger this kind of constant motion and concern for others would have made me grouchy.  Thank the Lord, that doesn’t happen anymore, but the activity of others under the same roof makes quiet and solitude a challenge - for all of us.

My computer.  The computer has been a joy.  It has taken my teaching preparation to a whole new level of convenience.  No more notes in longhand and lots of time saved!  It has enabled me to write blogs about spiritual things and about Jesus that people all over the world read!  How cool is that? 

It has enabled me to reconnect with people I went to high school with more than 40 years ago!  I can keep in touch with relatives in other parts of the country.  I can communicate with new friends.  I can receive invitations and view photos of events in which I've participated.  I love it for all of those things!

But on the other hand, my computer has also become the bane of my existence, because I find it so hard to exert any self-control over the time I spend on it.  I turn it on when I get up and off when I go to bed and in between I’m continually checking e mail, Facebook,  my blog status and wasting way too much time playing Bookworm.

I’ve told myself I should just check it in the morning and at night and turn it off in between but I don’t do it.  Like the Sirens in the Odessey, it exerts a call I seem not to be able to resist! I’m old enough to be able to look back on my life without my computer and see the difference.  I spend WAY too much time on my computer in empty pursuits. In many ways I’m ashamed to say, it has become an idol.

Just plain spiritual laziness.  There are Christians I know who attribute all of the negative things that impact our lives to the work of Satan.  I don’t mean to downplay that at all.  He is a real enemy who takes delight in derailing us Christians, and worse.  But I can do a pretty good number on myself when I let my human nature lead and not the Spirit.  I don’t do anything “bad” necessarily, but I can certainly not do the things my heart wants and needs to do, like spend time pursuing my relationship with Jesus, and being in prayer.  Anything can get in the way of time with the Lord, even good things – TV news, the gym, breakfast with friends, a spur of the moment suggestion from my granddaughter – even things I hate, like washing the floor, or doing the laundry! 

I read a verse this morning from Psalm 25.  Speaking of the Lord, David says, in verse 12:

“(The Lord) will instruct him in the way chosen for him.”

I can remember the ways in the past when the Lord instructed me in the ways He chose FOR ME. 

As little ones, when my girls  napped, and later after they began school – and I had no computer – the Lord impassioned my heart to draw near to Him.  I might have dust bunnies drifting across the floor and my laundry might not have been done, but it didn’t matter.  It was just the Lord and me, in my bedroom, enjoying one another’s company.

I remember another time in my life when for a long season He called me away to a park where I would read Richard Foster’s book, “Celebration of Discipline”, and follow it up with a sweet time of talking with the Lord as I walked around the lake.

Most recently, when our church was between pastors and there was so much healing that needed to take place in our church, the Lord called me to a season of prayer.  For months, once a week I would go to the church and walk around the sanctuary praying for the man the Lord would call to shepherd us and for the healing of our church body.

A repeat of those times were what I longed for when I read about that abbey and its monks with their vow of silence and their worshipful praise expressed in Gregorian chant.  I long for the solitude that brings me so near to the Lord that I can HEAR Him instruct me in the way He has chosen for me NOW, in this season of my life. 

At this moment, I’m not sure how I will find the solitude I need, but I know I will be thinking and praying about it, and the One who instructs me in the way chosen for ME, will unveil it.

Psalm 25:4-5:

“Show me your ways, O LORD, teach me your paths; guide me in your truth and teach me, for you are God my Savior, and my hope is in you all day long.”