To Live is Christ

"For to me to live is Christ and to die is gain."

- Phil. 1:21

    The more I come to know Jesus Christ and the comfort of his saving love, the more acquainted I become with the sufferings of this world. The more I come to know the joy of his salvation, the more impatient I become with this life. The more I come to know the peace of his presence, the more restless I become to enter his rest, away from the constant struggle of living in a fallen world

    Yet somehow the more I struggle with the pains of this world, the sweeter that final rest will become. With every burden I carry, the more aware I become of the strength of his arm that sustains me, bearing burdens that would otherwise crush me. With every fire that burns, the more aware I become of his enveloping peace that grants me safety in the hottest flame. With every storm that I face, the more aware I become of his mighty hand that stays the strongest wave and beckons me to walk on water.

    Lord, what can I say but that it is a privilege to be burdened by the struggles of this life? What can I say but that it is an honor to be refined through the fires of this world? Apart from pain, I would not know you. Apart from hunger, I would not eat your bread. Apart from thirst, I would not drink your water. In my need you reveal yourself. In my weakness I am forced to seek your presence. In my darkest hour, your light becomes a beacon.

    So I thank you for my need. It is in my need that you reveal your sufficiency. 

from October 31, 2012

My Mama's in Heaven

 

    Ra'Vae carries an aura about her. She walks into school every morning with a set of braided pig-tails, a Hannah Montana backpack, and a look of fierce intensity. She is the first to help out around the classroom, quick to comfort a hurting child, and the only student who simply tells a rule-breaker "stop being bad" instead of tattling. Ra'Vae is a ring-leader — but in a good way — and her current job is to tie shoes (since almost nobody can).
    On Wednesday Ra'Vae lost it. It was like something snapped. Kicking, screaming, shouting — at me, the kids, anyone and everyone. Talika, her closest friend at school, approached her with a look of concern. "Ra'Vae, why are you crying?"
    Ra'Vae kicked out a chair and howled at the top of her lungs, "GAH!!! STOP LOOKING AT ME!!!"
    I was shocked. Nothing I did would calm her down. I finally sent Ra'Vae out with a pre-k assistant, who hauled Ra'Vae down to another room as Ra'Vae screamed, "I WANT MY MAMA! I WANT MY MAMA!!!!!" the whole way down.
    Ra'Vae didn't join our class again until lunchtime. She greeted me with a smile and a "Hi teacher!" and entered the cafeteria as if nothing had happened. I marveled. How easily children could forget.
    Later that week I gave the kids their homework folders. "Mom and dad will need to help with the assignment," I said, "So make sure you show them your folder."
    Ra'Vae scrunched up her brow and murmured quietly, "My mama's in heaven."
   I stopped short mid-sentence and felt my throat begin to tighten. Ra'Vae didn't have a mama. She was killed only months ago. And daddy was in jail. Her grandma told me so, and I'd forgotten. How could I forget?
    I looked at Ra'Vae and choked out my next words, "I'm sure your grandma can help you out just fine." Ra'Vae nodded.
from September 30, 2012