You Know Me

"O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all of my ways." Psalm 139:1&2

A few days ago, while hiking the trails of a 400-acre forest with my dog, as I do several times a week, I had a freak accident. In a nutshell, at about the halfway point of our hour-long hike, I took a fall while attempting to run past another hiker and his dog. My dog pulled hard and fast to the left while I was running straight, and ultimately, I fell hard, landing on my upper arm. The pain instantly permeated my body, and I knew in a moment that I was in a precarious position.

While the kind hiker helped me remember to breathe and kept me calm, I eventually sat down, leaning against a tree while he went for help. After contacting my husband to tell him where I was in case I blacked out, I was utterly alone on the trail with my dog. I felt vulnerable--in a state of shock, I began to pray. My prayer could have been more eloquent. Instead, it went something like this: "Help me Jesus, help me Jesus, help me Jesus." 

Hiking the trails or hiking anywhere has always been where I feel most like my true self. When surrounded by His glorious creation, I am honest in my conversations with Him. Only moments earlier, I had thanked Him for His goodness to me, recalling all the ways He has blessed me and my family. And now, as I struggled to breathe, feeling like a tiny dot in a large forest, I felt His peace and presence. 

"Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. If I rise on the wings of the dawn, if I settle on the far side of the sea, even there your hand will guide me, your right hand will hold me fast." Psalm 139-7-10

God is omnipresent—He is present everywhere, in every place and time. To say that God is "present" is to say that he is here with us, really here, not absent. He is the creator of heaven and earth, which means that He is in every location. He is also the creator of time—one without a beginning or an end. He has been present in the world since its creation, and there will never be a time when He is absent. 

We are never lost to God. No matter where we go or what we do, He is present. Although He knows every detail about us, His ultimate desire and greatest gift is that He allows us to know Him too. 

One of Jesus's last prayers on earth perfectly describes this desire: "Father, the time has come. Glorify your Son, that your Son may glorify you. For you granted him authority over all people that he might give eternal life to all those you have given him. Now this is eternal life: that they may know you the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you have sent. I have brought you glory on earth by completing the work you gave me to do. And now, Father, glorify me in your presence with the glory I had with you before the world began." John 17:1-5

Reflecting on my trail experience, I am humbled and thankful for those whom God brought along the path (literally!) to help. Although I suffered a fractured humerus (upper arm bone), it seems that hardships have a way of bringing us closer into His presence. His love hits differently from a broken place when we can see more clearly our utter need for more of Him. 

"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well." Psalm 139:14

Stay the Course…

Sheila

Today’s Prayer: “Father, thank you for your omnipresence. It’s difficult to understand that time is different in heaven than how we view it on earth—without beginning or end. Father, I pray for those who have not yet accepted your gift of eternal life. Your Word tells us that it is by grace we have been saved, through faith. We know that faith does not come from ourselves, and it is not by works—it is a gift from You so that no one can boast. Your Word tells us that if we confess with our mouths, “Jesus is Lord,” and believe in our hearts that You raised Jesus from the dead, we will be saved. Today, I pray for your gift of salvation to anyone who cries out to You with this prayer. Our greatest joy on earth is to know You, the only true God, and Jesus Christ, whom you sent. Please draw us closer to You as we seek You and learn more about You through the gift of Your Spirit and the power of Your Word. In Jesus name, I pray, amen.”

Every End is a Start

Almost exactly three years ago, my father passed from this life into eternity. 

His departure was natural, beautiful, painful, and mysterious. 

Almost three years ago, I stopped writing for this blog. Instead, I began writing a monthly column for our local newspaper, an idea I proposed when our neighbors and world were still keeping social distance. 

I began to interview local community neighbors for a column called Hello Neighbor. Each month, my focus shifts off of myself and onto a different person or specific topic. I have met and interviewed people who are similar to myself and people who are strikingly different from myself—and in the process, I have learned more about myself than I have wanted to know. For instance, to understand another's story, my mouth needs to remain closed, and my focus must be fully absorbed in the life and heart of another. I don't need to agree or disagree with another's perspective. I have learned to listen to stories that transpire in the mud and muck of life, to storylines that twist and turn, and ultimately to a consistent conclusion that things are not what they appear to be; people are not always what they appear to be. 

Often, the most beautiful unfolding of another's story is what happens to the one telling their story out loud for possibly the first time. Almost always, there are tears, and sometimes, I am caught off guard when such a moment occurs. In telling our stories, we are transported back to a time that feels like it never happened and as if it just happened today. Our stories reveal our journey in such a way that the emotions connected with the journey also revisit us. Emotions connected to sharing stories about our younger selves may bring new revelations in the telling through the eyes of our older selves. 

I know of few things in my life that have been as great of a privilege to participate in than to be an audience to a person I have just met in listening to their story. I can ask questions when my interest is piqued, but mostly, I'm learning to hold my tongue and give undivided attention to a person God has placed in my path for such a moment. 

Although we live in a world that idolizes celebrities, where many focus their energy and attention on social media, being an influencer, or presenting ourselves in a way that makes us feel seen and essential—I realize that often the people who leave the most extraordinary legacy are the ones who are unaware of their influence and impact. The teachers who poured into their students, the artist who turned an old tire shop into a home and a gallery for local artists, high school sweethearts whose love was so deep that several years after an accident left his girlfriend paralyzed from the waist down, he still married her. Today, they celebrate decades of good memories together despite their journey's difficulties. 

In writing another's story, I have learned that life is lovely, beautiful, complex, and challenging regardless of who you are. Careers are meaningful, but family is more important. Traveling the world is fun, but being with the people you love is what you will remember at the end of your life. Photos of who you are in your youth may not resemble photos of who you are when there remains more road behind you than in front of you. We are no less beautiful in our older skin than the younger one, at least not to those who truly know us, especially not our Maker. Significance is not found in what we accomplish but in who we become due to our accomplishments. And most importantly, every end is a start. 

My father's end of life on this earth was a start to a new life in eternity, a story that I do not yet fully understand. As I reflect on his life—how he lived, how he spent his time, and what mattered to him—I can better understand the truth of who I am. In telling another's story, I have learned the beauty of humanity—we are all a messed-up mixture of glory and grime. 

Stay the Course… 

Sheila