Lord, you are no stranger to the suffering of wandering people. Your written story is all about those who are lost, those who are impoverished, those who are hopeless. Your own son was born in a borrowed bed in a foreign, inhospitable land, open to attacks and dangers from those who hated you.
You know the struggles of the persecuted; You understand the pain of the displaced. Please open our hearts to see refugees the way you see them, not through the lens of fear, but through the lens of compassion and grace.
Forgive our nation when we close our borders. Forgive us individually when we love our comfort more than we love people. Break us, Lord. Help us to feel their pain. Move the heart of our president to be wise in the way he leads this country to protect its citizens, while continuing our long lasting tradition of welcoming the tired, the poor, and those yearning to be free.
Protect and provide for the many who are in need of finding a place to call home, access to safety, shelter, food, water, medical care. We cry to you, Abba Father. Use us, somehow, to bring healing and health to the wanderers of this world.
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
This morning I went to the infusion center to get iron pumped into my blood. Being at the cancer center was sobering. While in the waiting room, I picked up a book called Lilly Oncology on Canvas: Expressions of a Cancer Journey. This book highlights selections from the 2012 Art Competition and Exhibition. I love art (can’t draw or paint to save my life but I can appreciate it when I see it), so I went through every page during my 45 minute stay.
I thought of my dear friends who have lost loved ones to cancer. I thought of those I know, some closer than others, who are currently fighting the battle. I thought of relatives and friends of cancer patients who suffer alongside them. My heart ached. I prayed. I read the stories behind these works of art created by either cancer patients and their loved ones or caregivers. There were heart wrenching stories of death and suffering. There were also many stories of victory over cancer, new life, hope, and gratitude.
I noticed a common thread from cancer survivors: a new-found appreciation for life. I read words such as “celebration”, “thankfulness”, and “newness”. I read stories of holding family closer, listening more, not taking things or people for granted, treasuring every moment, and feeling happiness in the smaller things. As horrible as cancer is, people who go through it can often find a new way to see the world around them. What a gift. What a horrible, awesome gift.
As I write this, I pray and hope that my cancer-ridden friends find complete remission and healing, as well as supernatural strength to endure and conquer. I pray they will be filled with faith and hope, and come out on the other side, knowing God better, understanding life more fully, and appreciating every moment. I also pray for myself and my loved ones – the ones who are cancer free – My hope is that we also live as if life is a gift, because it is, and that we are able to celebrate it and enjoy it, because we just never know what the future has in store. Life is precious and should not be taken for granted. May we not waste a day, but find purpose and fulfillment in living, until God takes us home.
On this Thanksgiving Eve, I pray for those (especially my friends) who have lost loved ones this year. For those sitting at the table without their father or spouse, for the first time. For those unable to bear the pain of not having their son with them any longer, I lift up my eyes to the Lord. He is good, and his strength is powerful enough to sustain the hurting, even when it feels impossible. Death is part of this broken world of ours, but just because it is normal, it doesn’t mean it’s easy, especially when we seem to think it happens prematurely. But the truth is that there is no premature timing in God’s eyes. He holds all our days in his hands. He is bigger than our bad choices. He is bigger than fate or destiny. In his miraculous foreknowledge and his compassionate sovereignty, He uses the bad for good and redeems all circumstances.
On this Thanksgiving Eve, I pray that the hurting children of God will be able to thank him even in their pain. Jesus knows pain. Jesus understands death. He went through both in order to give us life. May He overwhelm my friends with life and hope, even as they sit together and dine with a missing loved one. His mercies are new every morning.
I just finished reading A Place of Healing: Wrestling with the Mysteries of Suffering, Pain, and God’s Sovereignty by Joni Eareckson Tada, and I give it my highest recommendation.
Joni was paralyzed in a diving accident more than 40 years ago. Now, in her 60s, she’s writes this book while going through a new trial: constant, unshakable pain. What I like most about this book is Joni’s high view of God. Every page oozes with his character, calling, and work, putting all things, especially suffering, into perspective.
If you are struggling with the idea of being a Christian yet not delivered from suffering and pain, buy this book today. If you are dealing with physical illness or disability, this book is for you! Even if you are not presently suffering, this book will minister to you and equip you to be a good friend to those who do suffer. It will encourage you greatly. For me, it has renewed my sense of gratitude and contentment, knowing that my hope in the Lord is unwavering and true.