A SONG FOR GRACE ABOUT GRACE

As a grandfather I worry about my grandchildren. It's the cost of love. I worry about their tender hearts being broken by a cruel and heartless world in which they live. There are disappointments they will experience and I won't be there to comfort them or wipe away every tear. I am, after all, only their grandfather and a step removed from their daily lives. Most of all I worry about their spiritual lives. I want them to love Jesus Christ with all their hearts. I fret equally about them all. Tonight I am thinking about Grace. I pray that you choose to love Jesus all the days of your life, serve him and live within His grace.
[Click on image below or  http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h8h38V-Bh8U ]].

[Laura Story singing Grace: from her album entitled Blessings]

PSALM 139 IS LIKE A SPIRITUAL STAIRCASE

Psalm 139 is often called the pro-life psalm, and with good reason. The psalmist says God "knit me together in my mother's womb" and "my frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place." Not only does the psalmist declare that God's eyes saw his unformed body but ordained all the days of his life before any of them came to be.

Psalm 139 is about unspeakable love and intimacy between Creator and created—every human life that has ever been conceived, including you and me. But Psalm 139 deals with so much more than God's tender presence with the unborn child.

In the entire Book of Psalms, the 139th sits as its climax. British biblical scholar, R.E.O. White said "this psalm represents the peak of the Psalter, the maturest individual faith in the Old Testament, and the clearest anticipation of the New."

GOD IS OMNIPRESENT

Psalm 139 speaks of God as omnipresent and all-knowing. This understanding is a hallmark of honest, sensible living and is foundational to developing intimacy with God and living a transparent life. Knowing that God is omnipresent helps believers keep short accounts with God and encourages familiarity with the confessional.

Personal moments of terror with my own journey into advanced degenerative disability (multiple sclerosis) have brought me back, time and again, to the comfort of Psalm 139. God knows my terror; His hand rests upon me!

Lord you have probed me, you know me:
You know when I sit and stand;
You understand my thoughts from afar.
My travels and my rest you mark;
With all my ways you are familiar.
Even before a word is off my tongue,
Lord you know it all.
Behind and before you encircle me
And rest your hand upon me.

The undeniable truth is that an intimate touch of an omnipresent God, who is all-knowing, has soothed tormented souls throughout the ages. It's reassuring to know that I do not even need to blurt out clumsy words - words that always fall short of expressing sorrow and fear.

God understands my thoughts and knows what I want to say before the words leave my lips. He encircles me with divine love and places his hand on my shoulder (just like he did before my birth). What exquisite intimacy! God's word tells me it is so.

And then I realize that God's word is a spiritual staircase: From the beginning of time the Word was with God and the Word was God (John 1:1). The word became flesh in Jesus Christ and dwelt among humanity (John 1:14). The Word will lead me home, regardless of what happens here.

THE PERFECT LOVER

What perfect romance! Charles Wesley's 18th century hymn was absolutely correct: Jesus is the lover of my soul. He has been the lover of my soul since I was conceived in my mother's womb. He embraces me in the darkest moments of my sorrow and pain just as He has embraced generations of humanity in theirs. Our darkness is not dark to God. The psalmist wrote, "Darkness is not dark for you, and night shines as the day. Darkness and light are as one" (139:12).

Christ drives back human darkness. He calls to you and me, "Take courage! It is I, do not be afraid!"

He says those words to me when I find myself in the ̔dark nights of the soul̕. My terror has been a body slowly becoming a carcass. Christ rests his hand upon my shoulder and asks me to let him use my affliction as a vehicle for my spiritual purification. There's so much with me that needs to be purified.

My curse becomes part of my blessing. As I surrender fear and my silly notions of God, and how my life was supposed to be, I can see the darkness of sorrow and bitterness being pushed back for the love of God to flood into my life.

MY DEEPEST LONGING

The lover of my soul knows that my deepest longing is not to walk or run again: My deepest longing is to soar to heaven in his love. Although I didn't know it until now, that's been my deepest yearning since before my birth. God was with me in my mother's womb.

Wonderful are your works!
My very self you knew;
My bones were not hidden from you,
When I was being made in secret,
Fashioned as in the depths of the earth.
Your eyes foresaw my actions;
In your book all are written down;
My days were shaped, before one came to be."

I know now that the MS was no accident. It's just a chapter in that book. The title of the chapter is 'Purification'. My disease does define me, it refines me; it is not destroying my life but preparing me for something and somewhere far richer and more abundant than this life. Christ is true to me; I must be true to him.

Probe me, God, know my heart;

Try me, know my concerns.

See if my way is crooked,

Then lead me in the ancient paths.

Yes, Psalm 139 is pro-life with good reason. The Author of life and love oversees it all. (See below.)

[Fernando Ortega, Jesus Lover of My Soul.]

A CHALLENGING EXERCISE FOR DISABILITY INCLUSION

Disability inclusion has been something I have worked for most of my adult life -- even before I was disabled. It is vitally important for the common good of society to ensure conditions exist that allow all people to reach their full potential. We must help each other thrive. 

Many barriers facing people with disabilities have been removed in recent years but many more remain. It has been my experience as a disabled person that the biggest barriers are attitudes of others (and my own). The human family, under the Lordship of Jesus Christ, must include all its members from the unborn child to the centenarian and every stage and stage between those two points. Everybody has something to bring to the table of human experience.

I came across an interesting video showcasing various visible disabilities. It's creative and unique. It challenges stereotypes of perfection and beauty and encourages disability acceptance among the public and self-acceptance with the people with disabilities who were involved. Great stuff!

Look past the physical and atypical. Include. Encourage. Give loving accept those who live in your circle of influence, even those with twisted bodies or broken minds. Bring the love of Christ to all. -- Mark

YOUNG PEOPLE PLAYING YOUNG BEETHOVEN

I love to see young people excel in the arts whether it be visual, writing, music, theatre, performing or cinematic arts. It makes my heart soar to see them excel. My whole life I have been surrounded by artists and artisans. They make life so rich.  You may have noticed that I paper this blog with references and examples of artistic endeavor. Throughout my 30 year disability journey music, literature and writing have been a near-constant companion. 

Below are young people's playing Beethoven's piano quartet in C major, I Allegro. An equally young 15 year old Beethoven composed it. Enjoy
  

THE GREAT FAMILY OF THE HEAVY-HEARTED

I read about a young man paralyzed in a freak accident. The story gave a glimpse of his grief and sorrow. It's been just a year since his accident. The terrible prospect of permanent disability is beginning to sink in and it's breaking his heart. He told the reporter, "It's really, really hard." And so it is. Life with catastrophic disability is a hard journey. I know, I've lived with degenerative multiple sclerosis for 30 years.

At the deepest point of grieving, life can seem like an endless series of disappointments, accommodations and compromises, lost opportunities, and inexpressible sorrow. One can feel totally alone, even in a crowded room.

Disability is a lonesome journey. As the old song says, It's not that friends are unkind -- just hard to find. Then there are those dreaded moments at the end of each evening and one must make his way to the terror of the bedroom. It's in there that the darkness awaits to engulf a grieving person in fitful sleep-wake torture. A chorus of despair, self-doubts and fear whisper, "You are alone. Nobody understands."

It is there, in the middle of an endless night, lying wide awake staring into darkness, that a bed can become a rack. The horrible truth of life's misfortune can seem too great to bear. A human soul lays open like a gaping wound. Whimpers break into sobs of raw, pulsating grief.

Grievers beware! Emotions are unreliable, they are apt to intensify the feeling of isolation out of all proportion. Tears obscure vision and grief distorts perceptions of reality.

There is no such thing as an endless night. It only seems that way. The longest night must eventually give way to dawn. It is only fear and grief that tell us otherwise. Even the pitch black of arctic winter days will, in due course, transform into a peculiar summer midnight sun.

Many people with profound disabilities have risen above their predicaments and abyss of intense grief to incredible spiritual heights and human achievements.

Perhaps the most famous example is Ludwig Van Beethoven (1770-1827). Most of his vast contributions to the world of music were written in either partial or complete deafness. 

George Frederic Handel (1685-1759) suffered from manic depression. His beloved Messiah was written at the end of a depressive bout.

John Milton (1608-74) was blind when he wrote Paradise Lost (1667). Paradise Lost is generally considered to be the greatest epic in the English language. (Remember that John Milton also wrote Paradise Regained.)

Elizabeth Barrett Browning was an "invalid and a recluse" to use the phrasing of one biographer. There was nothing invalid about her - her gift for lyric poetry is with us to this day.

Franklin Delano Roosevelt was physically crippled from polio at the age of 39, yet as America's 32nd president he led an entire nation through most of the Great Depression and Second World War.

Grief, sorrow and fear are not unique to people with disabilities: they are common to the human experience. Everybody is acquainted with sorrow. Everyone is afraid.

The "No Fear" T-shirt that was so fashionable a number of years ago was not true. With the exception of babies and small children, everyone has fears from the past and fears of the future.

Most people are afraid of serious self-examination lest they come face to face with inner demons, character flaws and emotional handicaps. They might be challenged to go through a difficult process of change. Some people fear being forgotten while others fear being remembered.

We are afraid of committing ourselves wholly to love yet afraid of being unloved. Many people are afraid of committing themselves to lives with purpose -- yet despise those who do.

Some people are afraid of dying outside God's grace yet they are afraid to truly live within it. We may be afraid of being seen as extreme yet afraid to venture outside mediocrity.

Helen Keller

Helen Keller (1880-1968) went deaf and blind before she was two years old. In an era when society restricted the lives of people with disabilities (not to mention women), Keller overcame monumental obstacles to rise to international stature advocating world peace, women's suffrage, human dignity and civil rights for people with disabilities. She said:

"When it seems that our sorrow is too great to be borne, let us think of the great family of the heavy-hearted into which our grief has given us entrance. Inevitably, we feel about us their arms, their sympathy and their understanding."

That's my point. All humanity longs for affinity and the understanding of others. All humanity is longing for belonging. The young man grieving his paralysis may not yet know it but his grief has given him entrance into the "great family of the heavy-hearted." Those of us who are full-fledged members of that "great family" have the Passion and cross of Christ as our chief example and inspiration.

It is to Christ we can ultimately turn with the knowledge his sufferings dwarfed all human pain and sorrows. There is no grief Jesus does not understand. Christ is the ultimate affirmation. He is the ultimate over-comer. He can change us, if we allow it, from victims to victors. -- Mark

[Hillsong, It is Well With My Soul]

CALM IN THE STORMS OF DISEASE

My adult daughter sent me the link below called "Calming Storms" by  Clayton Jennings. Shen and Was 8 years old and her brother was five when I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis (MS). As I have said in previous blog posts, those years were terrifying years. We pulled together as a family.

I have often wondered what impact it had on my children to watch their dad deteriorate from a healthy active man to walking with a cane then two canes, then crutches then a scooter and electric wheelchair. My daughter said her email that accompanied this video "This dude has a story eerily similar to the one Dean and me; I can relate to."

Is there a storm in your life? Trust Christ. He will see you through it. Christ has been with me throughout 30 years of multiple sclerosis. He has brought me calm in the midst of my storms of disease. There can be peace even in pain. Listen to Clayton Jennings story below. 

Mark

(Note: Bookings for me to address your church, college or group about a Christian perspective on suffering or euthanasia and assisted suicide, contact me at HumanLifeMatters@shaw.ca )

U.S. NATIONAL RIGHT TO LIFE CONVENTION 2014

To register go to

http://nrlconvention.com/register/