Be Strong and of Good Courage

By Tawna Wilkinson

“Be strong and of good courage…do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.” (Joshua 1:6-9 NKJV)

During my most recent visit in this passage of Scripture, the timing of the command jumped out at me. That prior to Joshua chapter one, the phrase had only been given twice: The first being, when the twelve were sent to spy out the Promised Land, Moses simply commanded them to, “Be of good courage." (Numbers 13:20)

And the second was in his last words prior to his death, as the children of Israel were preparing to enter the Land. There Moses repeated it three times, and added the words: “Be strong.”
(Deuteronomy 31)

Then, in Joshua chapter one, while on the verge of possessing the Land, the Lord reiterated it to Joshua – again, three times.

It got me thinking. Why would God save this specific command for the Promised Land? Why would the children of Israel need to present this kind of muster?

God promised He would give it to them, already rife with everything they would need, or want. And not only would it be given, but He promised after they were there, He would be with them, prepare their way, and give them instruction as to how to they were to proceed.

So why be so emphatic regarding strength and courage?

For one, there were giants. Real giants. And those giants, along with the other people groups, being heavily armed, weren’t going to simply hand their properties over without a fight. And two, the cities were seriously fortified, having thick impenetrable walls. Like Jericho, the city they would first encounter. Its walls were said to be 25 feet tall and 10 feet deep.

Those two reasons alone were enough for God to have to rally them with the command. 

However, I believe He saved this particular charge for a deeper purpose. Although He would keep His promise of giving them the Land, His modus operandi of giving was not theirs. They had an important part to play in the conquest.

After hearing His instruction, the children of Israel were to carry out every detail precisely as God said – such as silently marching around the 25 foot walled Jericho for a week, then yelling and blowing trumpets on the last day.

Then there was the time He gave the order to simply sing and praise Him, while standing by and watching, three allied forces annihilate themselves instead of attacking Israel as threatened.

Or another time, while being thoroughly outnumbered, again, He commanded them to merely break a bunch of clay pitchers and do some more hollering.

Or, and in my opinion, this being the crème-de-la-crème: on more than one occasion, God charged them to obtain favor from their enemies by “just” praying.

No wonder He saved, and repeated: “Be strong and of good courage.”

But what’s that got to do with us now?

The truth is God has given each of us a “Promised Land” – individually and collectively. And just because we don’t see the giants and fortified places with our physical eyes, does not mean they are any less real, dangerous, or formidable. Scripture speaks of us wrestling with evil and powerful forces. And it states clearly, the devil is like a roaring lion and thief desiring to devour, rob and destroy the abundant life God promised.

But again, I believe God gives us the charge today, for the same deeper purpose He did Israel. Although the Land’s been given, God’s method of giving is not ours. We have an important part to play in the conquest, as well.

We also are to listen to God’s instruction then carry out every detail precisely as He says. And it may well be things like: silently marching, or breaking a bunch of pitchers, or singing and praising, then standing still and watching; or dare I say, “just” pray?

With commands like these and engaging an enemy we cannot see, it's no wonder we will have to present the same kind of muster.

So, “Be strong and of good courage.”

Oh yeah, and “… do not be afraid, nor be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

Good words then. Good words now.

Is One Small Letter Enough?

By Tawna Wilkinson

The other day as I was reading in Ephesians, the thought struck me that this small letter was the only written information the burgeoning church in Ephesus had. One little scroll of truth was to be passed among the believers directing their journey in their new life with Christ. It wasn’t that I had never been told this, but the “ah-hah” caused me to stop and ponder.

One small letter, containing small prayers, tiny phrases and praises of truth, written by an imprisoned individual, guided by a still small Voice. And with that scant information individuals and families, as well as the church itself, flourished and grew. In fact, one source credits the Ephesians church with playing “a significant role in the spread of early Christianity.”

But to complicate, during that time, the city of Ephesus was one of the largest cities in the world; a huge metropolitan civilization in western Asia Minor teeming with multiple religions, politics and commerce. And to better appreciate the power in all “the small”, Ephesus was also the site of one of the Seven Wonders of the World: the Artemision – the worship temple of the Greek goddess Artemis.

Interesting. One small Holy Spirit inspired scroll, written from a prison cell, sent to a remnant of new believers enveloped in an imposing pagan metropolis. And by allowing a snippet of truth to permeate them, this tiny band of believers greatly assisted in the increase of the gospel Jesus Christ.

I wonder what would happen if a remnant of believers in a not-so-big-mountain-town in southwestern Colorado allowed the same small letter, with the same small prayers, tiny phrases and praises of truth to infiltrate their lives. Would that be enough for the eternal Holy Spirit to affect great change in and through them?

The Making of a Hospital Mom

"When the Unthinkable becomes your Reality, 

you have two choices: Regret or Redemption"  ~ The Hospital Mom

On January 27, 1999 the unthinkable became our reality. Our pink and precious daughter of 6 months suffered a massive mid-cerebral arterial stroke. The main artery between her spine and her brain had become blocked from a blood clot at the juncture where it splits into the left and right hemispheres. Worldwide, 1 in 25,000 live births will suffer a stroke each year.  

The years that have followed have been tumultuous. Doctors, therapies, drug studies, seizures, and surgeries. There are times where I felt I have earned doctoral degrees in Physical Therapy, Occupational Therapy, Pharmacology, Neurology, Developmental Pediatrics and Child Psychology from the Mother's Medical Institute.

At any moment I can walk into an emergency room and speak in medical terms with any nurse, doctor or specialist. Pity the poor nurse who argued with me that my child could not possibly have suffered a stroke. "Children do not have strokes," she said with condescending authority.

Ashley was having seizures and I walked into the emergency room in Tulsa, Oklahoma telling the medical team what she needed. I had been on the phone with her neurologist and we agreed I could transport her to the hospital quicker than an ambulance could find me - plus I was already in the car and on my way - and he would meet me there.  

My dad met us at the hospital and while he entertained my 25 month old daughter, I politely asked the nurse to step outside the room. "Never tell a parent in front of a child that they are making up a diagnosis, especially one this horrid," I said with the indignation of a mom who was living the unimaginable. The nurse continued to argue with me as the doctor approached and I told her to go pull up the MRI and CT scans from the past 2 years. "I will," she assured me and stomped off, hands on her hips. And she did. The neurologist arrived, treatment began and later, he brought a very apologetic nurse into the room and assured her that infants do indeed have strokes.  

That night I realized that parents must be advocates for their children. As the years passed, I learned most parents are so intimated by the medical process, hospital personnel and are simply overwhelmed by their situation that they are afraid to speak up. They will accept whatever is told them and not ask questions, advocate for help or seek solutions for their children.  

I have worked with families in numerous settings - adult education centers, as a parent advocate in schools, at church and as a chaplain. The redemption of Ashley's story is in sharing the wisdom, education and experiences we have gained in this struggle.  

Parents of chronically medically challenged children are more likely to divorce, have extra-marital affairs and battle addictions. As their world centers around their children, hospitals and the medical world, they withdraw into themselves and face depression while living in a constant state of regret - the "would of, could of, should of" state of mind.  

Our purpose is simple:

         To provide Hope and Humor to Families of Chronically Medically Challenged Children. 

The ways we do that are numerous:

         Website - Hospitalmom.net

         Facebook - Hospital Mom

         Writing for Blogs like this one and at HospitalMom.net

         Answering Emails of Hurting Families at      
                    Kim@hospitalmom.net

         H.O.P.E. Delivery Bags for Caregivers at Hospitals

Currently, I am writing a book to bring Hope to Families. The following is an excerpt from "Beautifully Complicated," the story of redeeming the hurt in our lives in order "to Know HIM and Make HIM Known."

from BEAUTIFULLY COMPLICATED

“This is my Father’s World

and to my listening ears

    All nature sings and ‘round me rings

The beauty of the sphere.”

Eighteen years ago I first sang this song to my infant baby girl. Born early - eager to change our world. Born tiny - proving size does not matter. Born the baby sister - her brother in love with her before she was before. Born a surprise - her daddy named her the moment he saw the positive pregnancy test. 

“This is my Father’s World

I rest me in the thought

   Of rocks and trees; of skies and seas

His hand the wonders wrought.”

Fifteen times I have laid her on an operating table and sang those words in her ear as she drifted to sleep. Sometimes easily.  Sometimes fearfully, gripping my hand.  Sometimes I have had tears in own voice and many times, I have sang to a room full of surgeons and technicians who came to the operating theater because they had heard of this family who sang before surgery and wanted to experience the peace that is in the room.

Three times I have sang this hymn in the surgery waiting room because that facility did not allow me to accompany her into the operating room.

Eighteen surgeries.  

        Thousands of miles driven in rain, snow, sunshine and shadow. 

        Months our family has lived apart - separated by 8 hours and the Rocky Mountains.

        Dozens of professionals. Hundreds of medications. Thousands of phone calls to doctors.  
Ten Thousands of hours in research by specialists and parents.   

        Millions of prayers raised by family, friends and even strangers.

This indeed is My Father's World. The Unthinkable will happen because this world is in a fallen state where the sin of mankind has brought heartache. Yet God redeems the pain of our fallen state to help each other. When we help each other that pain becomes bearable, even manageable as we allow Him to reveal His glory as we live other lives for others.  

           “This is my Father's world. 

                    O let me ne'er forget 

              that though the wrong seems oft so strong, 

                   God is the ruler yet. 

            This is my Father's world: 

                   why should my heart be sad? 

            The Lord is King; let the heavens ring! 

                  God reigns; let the earth be glad!”

Are you living the Unthinkable?  

Where you never dreamed you would be?

Are you living in Regret - depressed, lonely, self-pity -  or in Redemption?

As you listen to the song below, go to God in Prayer and 

ask the Father -

"How will you redeem the pain in my life?  

Who can I serve?"

"This is Our Father's World"

Our Favorite Version! Enjoy!

  Amy Grant "This Is My Father's World"

The Administration of Reconciliation

By Tawna Wilkinson

    

The other day, I had a hard and messy conversation with an individual regarding their dissatisfaction with the church, and what they felt was wrong with it. The truth is I was hurt and very frustrated, as this wasn’t the first time I’d been approached with the same thing.

However, after I allowed myself the shabby process of sorting out my raw emotions with God and my husband, the Lord reminded of II Corinthians 5:17-21:

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new. Now all things are of God, who has reconciled us to Himself through Jesus Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation, that is, that God was in Christ reconciling the world to Himself, not imputing their trespasses to them, and has committed to us the word of reconciliation. Now then, we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God were pleading through us: we implore you on Christ’s behalf, be reconciled to God. For He made Him who knew no sin to be sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God in Him.”

I realized if things were the way He intended in the beginning, there would be no need for our administrating reconciliation. For when things are reconciled, they are back to the way they were created to be.

When Christ was here He waded through enormous dysfunction with people’s perceptions of what He needed to do to make things right – in the synagogues; with the Pharisees and crowds; with the twelve men He hand-picked to journey with Him; even with his mother and siblings. And though Scripture doesn’t give much detail about His childhood, I can’t help but think there was a lot of muddling He had to endure just being a kid and teenager.

We want things to be neat and tidy; to be okay. And more times than not, I think that means, the way I want them to be. We hate the groaning our spirits, bodies and souls experience when we perceive things are not the way they’re supposed to be. And the last thing we want to do is stick around and engage in the hard work of restoration.

 Several years ago, a wise young man said to me, “Relationships are messy, and no one wants to get involved in them.” He was right. It’s obvious. When things don’t go the way we want, our first reaction is to bail…. don’t stick around and muddle through the mess and confusing in-betweens. It hurts. It’s hard. We have no promise that we’re going to see resolution. And what’s worse, we have no control over the outcome, let alone another’s choice.

I completely understand. I’ve bailed more times than I care to admit. I’ve thrown my hands up in frustration umpteen times, “knowing” for certain things are never going to change. But if that is true, then this passage of Scripture isn’t.

So today, I am actually thankful for the individual approaching me. For although the issue was not resolved, I now see I was presented with another opportunity to use my “ambassador muscles.” God, and this person, trusted me with part of the messy process of bringing a piece of reconciliation to this beautiful, broken and messy world. And I am glad I chose to engage in it.

When All Is Quiet

By Tiffany Bleger

When all is quiet

Where do you go?

When His voice isn't clear

Where do you run?

Do you charge ahead

Determined in your path?

Do you stand stock still

And wait for the whisper?

Do you turn and run

Back to the familiar?

Do you wander in circles

Moving but going no where?

When all is quiet

Where do you go?

When His voice isn't clear

Where do you run?

Do you lean on your friends 

For an encouraging word?

Maybe listen a little harder

To Sunday's sermon?

Do you beg and plead

And beat your head?

Do you make promises 

You know you won't keep?

When all is quiet

Where do you go?

When His voice isn't clear

Where do you run?

Do you pick up your bible 

And blow off the dust?

Do you listen to music

You think He would love?

Or do you trust and wait

And remember His promises?

Do you know Him well enough

To be still in the quiet?

When all is quiet

Where do you go?

When His voice isn't clear

Where do you run?

I Need a Clean Sweep

By Jill Palmer

I was driving past a storage place one time and the sign out front read "Too much stuff? Store it here. First month's rent is free!" 

My first thought was that I would give stuff away before I had to pay someone to store it for me. If you're moving that's different but I personally don't want to own more stuff then I can keep at my own house. Paying someone to store my junk doesn't make sense to me. And I don't know if you've noticed this or not but these storage facilities are going up everywhere! We live in a culture with so much extra. 

We find ourselves with extra things that need storing. We see the sign "first month free" and we find our solution! 

BUT THEN comes the sneaky part. As soon as that first month is over they start charging your credit card to pay rent on the unit. You see the charge on your card and say to yourself "I've got to go through that storage unit and get rid of stuff and not pay any more rent." 

And you do that for months....

As I was musing over that The Lord spoke to me and said that is what we do with our emotional junk. We aren't willing to part with old wounds, aren't willing to forgive, aren't wanting to let things go that we were never meant to carry. And so we store it. And the enemy tempts us and says it's okay...the first month is free! 

And it seems like such a good deal so we do it. "I'm mad at so and so and they don't deserve my kindness." We decide to hold onto something. And at first it's fine. No big deal. It's "free". 

Ya see, each of us has our own storage unit full of past hurts, unforgiveness and wounds. And every once in a while we are reminded that we are "paying" for them. Something happens that reminds us of what's in the "storage unit".  And we promise we'll deal with it soon so we don't have to keep on paying that rent. 

And we do that for months....or years...

See where this is going? This next picture might make you chuckle. 

Jesus wants to come in and help you clean out your storage unit. He wants to go through all that stuff that's been packed in there for years.  Sort through what is to keep and what is to dump. And He sticks with you throughout the whole process! It's like Clean Sweep! Remember that show on TLC several years ago?! 

He says in his word that His yoke is easy and His burden is light.  If you are feeling weighed down by the world then maybe it's time to let Jesus into your storage unit and help you clean it out. And stop paying the enemy to store your junk! 

Have you been paying the enemy to store your junk and saying to yourself "I'll get to it later"? How can you begin to take steps towards a "Clean Sweep"?

The Dreaded TeeShirt Drawer

By Tiffany Bleger

So, my dear husband likes tee shirts. A lot. Plain tee shirts, colored tee shirts, tee shirts with business logos, tee shirts with funny pictures, tee shirts with sports teams. I counted them one time. And just shook my head in amazement. 

The tee shirts go in two drawers in the dear husband's dresser. When we first got married, we quickly realized that we had two very distinct tee shirt folding styles. And those two folding styles were, more often than not, completely incompatible with each other. So, I would wash the clothes and fold them. When I would put them away, I would put them in the drawer "my way". Any shirts that were in the drawer folded "his way" would get refolded to "my way" and stacked with the others. 

This method had the potential to work perfectly... if only the husband didn't wear the tee shirts. 

You see, the husband actually likes to wear the tee shirts. So he would rifle through the drawer, looking for "that one", messing up my perfectly aligned stacks. If he refolded any of them, they were folded "his way". Have you realized yet that "his way" equaled wrong in my mind? Other times, the shirts were just shoved back in haphazardly, which was only slightly worse than folding them "his way". So every time I did the laundry, I ended up refolding and reorganizing his tee shirt drawers again. 

This process became so annoying and tedious that I began to dread the laundry. I began to harbor resentment against my husband. I began to believe lies like -

"You know, if he appreciated you, he wouldn't do this."

"He doesn't see how hard you work around here. You're invisible."

"He doesn't respect you. You don't matter." 

It got so bad, I stopped dealing with the drawers all together. I would fold his tee shirts and leave them stacked on top of the dresser. If he put them in the drawer, fine. If he didn't, fine. I wasn't going to deal with it. And I wasn't going to acknowledge the obvious lack of communication that was occurring either. 

Fast forward a few years. I'm browsing Pinterest, wasting time, when I stumbled across an article about folding tee shirts. I clicked on the link, not expecting anything. But what I found started a new process of communication in our marriage. The method taught by the website was different than my method, and different than his. It even had you stack the tee shirts in the drawer differently. The more I looked at it, the more I thought it just might work, if I could convince him to go along with the plan. 

But first I had to talk to the dear husband about it. 

Neither of us like confrontation. We were both raised in families that did not deal with confrontation well, and so we both took the "don't rock the boat" mentality. It was easier to harbor bitterness and resentment than actually face and deal with the hurts we caused each other. 

Guess what I found out when I finally talked to my husband? When I told him how frustrating it was to be continually folding and refolding laundry? How unappreciated and invisible it made me feel? 

I found out my husband wasn't a mind reader. And neither was I. 

He had no clue why the tee shirts had started being left on the top of the drawer. He had no idea  how frustrated and alone I felt. 

We talked about that dreaded tee shirt drawer. We talked about this crazy idea I had to do something completely different. We talked about talking to each other. About really being honest. About sharing our needs, our desires, and our hurts without making assumptions about the other person. 

And we folded the tee shirts. 

Today, when I open the drawer, there's usually a few haphazard shirts. But they don't bother me like they used to. I refold them and stack them, knowing that it excites my husband to be able to see all the tee shirts at once. And I'm at peace knowing that I can take my wounds and fears to my husband in safety. 

You see, it was never about the tee shirts at all. It was all about the communication. 

Struggling For Perspective

By Nancy Turley

“The surrendered accept that pain is always but growing pains. And growth is always a gift—even when trials are the tutor.”   Ann Voskamp’s blog (A Holy Experience)

“What used to be a hindrance now helps you the most.” Eckhart

Outside my “Reading Room” window is a hummingbird feeder which hangs down next to a six foot high bush. I love to watch the hummers feed and rest on the steps of the feeder. That is until a Rufous appears out of its hiding place and chases them off. I see it perched in the branches of the bush or even from higher branches in our spruce tree out front, ready to pounce, selfishly declaring the feeder its own. It definitely does not play well with others. I ponder why God even created the Rufous. It is just a big bully, exercising its power, intimidating others from what is also fairly theirs.

I’ve had Rufouses in my life in the form of humans, even as an adult. But more and more, it feels like the real bully is the enemy who would steal my peace by the thoughts and lies he instills in my mind. At times I do feel like I have gone two steps forward and one back in my struggles to gain victory over this. Lately, the teasing thoughts that again assail me are of fear as I wonder about the future. My body is “talking” to me more ways than one, as is my husband Steve’s. It’s easy to project into the future with fearful outlook.

I’m near the end of the book, Into the Silent Land by Martin Laird. One chapter specifically focused on how to bring our minds to a place of silence instead of allowing the harassing thoughts to take over while praying. The author talked about the struggle to keep focused as we are taunted with the current circumstantial struggles in our lives. Interestingly as I read, my visual focus was drawn to the actual printed words with the root word of “struggle” on just one page. Without reading word by word and counting, I could make out eleven times it was mentioned! (I realized later it was because the two lower case letter “g’s” hung below the line and caused my eyes to be drawn to it as they are more darkened places on the page.)

During this counting process though, I had a mini Aha! moment when I realized I was literally doing the very thing the author was pointing out. I was focusing on the “struggle” and thus only saw the words with struggle on the page. All of the other print and wisdom on that page were diminished.

When we focus on the struggle and not the bigger picture, we narrow our perspective and can’t see what God is doing.

I know that despite our real-life struggles, God can and will use them for good, despite the “Rufous bully” thoughts of the enemy. In fact, I think because of these bully attacks, we can be strengthened in our “inner woman” to combat the new onslaughts. The fear that once overwhelmed me four years ago led me to a place of courage into a “new land” which has given me much joy.  Those hindrances are like the two sided coin that can morph our weakness into strength.

Much of our individual journeys are indeed from growing pains, but that pain is a gift—it can allow us to see from a different perspective, a bigger perspective, that of the One who can see all. 

What hinders your perspective? How have you dealt with "Rufouses" in your life? How can we see our struggles and pain as gifts?