Some of us wonder if God is pulling His hand of protection away these days. Others wonder if God is coming closer than ever, protecting His people. No matter where you are on the wonder scale, it’s likely we can all agree the times in which we live are far different than anything we’ve seen before. Where do we abide in that?
Abide in worry? Abide in anxiety? Abide in wishes, wants, weariness? How about abiding in money or masquerades? Abide in fun? Abide in relationships? Abide in good scores? Abide in promotions, premiers, or promises? Though most of us wouldn’t say it that way, it’s exactly what we do. Abide in need and abide in life.
Abide in Home
Sometime ago I was abiding in chores on a Sunday afternoon. Christmas and New Year’s had come and gone, and the decorations were due to be packed up for another year and put away. After one does that, the house looks a little lonely, so I decided to get out some fresh linens, dust the shelves, and put a few new things around while tossing older things. I began cleaning a glass candle vase, but it had aged and didn’t hold up well. The bottom of the vase broke out the bottom, leaving jagged glass in its wake. Fortunately it had been on the countertop when it broke, so I wasn’t hurt in that moment. Into the kitchen trash it went, the bag got put in the garage, and I kept working merrily on my project. Our office had the week off work to bask in the aftermath of the holidays and enjoy our families and homes. Cleaning and nesting fit the afternoon, and I was enjoying it. Abide in home.
Abide in Pain
Toward late afternoon I went to the end of the driveway to bring the trash and recycle cans back up to the house. It had been trash day, so the cans were down by the street waiting for the garbage company to dispose of their contents. As one does, I picked up the kitchen trash I had put in the garage earlier that day and placed it in the trash can with a couple other items, pushing down on the trash bag to allow it to go to the bottom. Seconds later the skin between my thumb and index finger was punctured; a large hole was gaping open with blood flowing quickly out. I’d forgotten all about the broken candle glass and pushed my hand right through it. Abide in pain.
Abide in Instruction
Running into the house, I turned on the kitchen faucet and called my daughter to come help me. Fortunately she was on Christmas break from school, so she happened to be home too. We tied a kitchen towel around my hand in tourniquet fashion and decided I needed to go to the ER. I was bleeding quite a bit and feeling more dizzy and lightheaded by the minute, plus there was no way a bandage would help in this case. There was no way 10 bandages would help in this case. I waffled about going because I knew needles and stitches were in my near future, but my loving daughter did the thinking for us and determined I was going. She put me in the car, then grabbed her keys, and off we went to the ER. Abide in instruction.
Was God abiding in the ER with me?
Abide in Exhaustion
“I’m going to need to stitch this up. I’ll be using four needles of lidocaine, so I want to prepare you that those will sting when I do that. I’ll need you to hold very still so I don’t accidentally prick another area of your hand or miss numbing you up,” came the doctor’s instructions to me.
“I’ll do my best,” I said, aching from pain and dizziness. He went to work, I squeezed my now-arrived husband’s hand, and my daughter watched in compassion. They all counted after each shot was given.
“One down. Halfway there. Almost there. Last shot.” I held my hand on his side table solid as a rock, but it definitely hurt, and the tears came. Word to the wise: don’t get lidocaine shots if you don’t need them. They sting like fire, and the needles in a fresh wound aren’t great either. For that matter, don’t push broken glass down in a trash can. You’re welcome for the wisdom. Three stitches later (should have been four or five in retrospect) and gauze bandaged around my hand, I was sent home to wonder if I had severed a nerve, tendon, or artery, or if I’d ever get the feeling back in my thumb. Abide in exhaustion.
Abide in Gratefulness
The next couple weeks were an opportunity to be grateful it hadn’t been worse, but also a challenge to do everything left-handed instead of right. If I did use my right hand, it had to be using my last three fingers to open bottles or doors, fasten jeans or brush my hair, eat or cook, and type things at work. You use both hands far more than you realize until you have only one or part of one. For a one-inch hole in my hand, it seemed like a ridiculous amount of interruption in my daily life and pain in my body. I began to have a very different view of people who have no limbs or much bigger physical challenges than I. Abide in gratefulness.
Abide in Time, Waiting, Adapting
It’s been awhile now, and the stitches are out. Fresh new skin has formed, and the wound is infection-free inside the body and out. I’m happy things are healing, but when the circulation and feeling fully returns in my thumb I’ll be even happier. It’s a very weird recovery, and I’m ready for the internal part to heal and return to normal. I’m told it will take months to a year sometimes for vascular areas to heal inside. Life certainly brings the big and little unexpected chapters to us. Abide in time, waiting, adapting.
Abide in Trust
Was God abiding in the ER with me? I’m certain God lovingly held my hand rock-still for the doctor to work. I’m certain He lovingly equipped my family as vessels of support for me. I’m certain God gifted the doctor to sew thread on skin and evaluate wounds. And also, I’m certain God didn’t remove my pain or heal me on the spot even if He hurt for me. So many of us feel the ERs of life right now. Joy is an emergency. Answers are an emergency. Trauma, jobs, school, money, open dreams, and feeling loved are all an emergency.
Is God abiding in the ERs of our lives? Is God abiding in the ER of current events nationally and internationally? I’ve thought a lot about the answer to this very human and present question for many of us. I believe God is fully abiding with us. The pain may still be as present as He is. The devil may still be vying for victory in our ERs. Yet I believe God’s hand is on our hand, and I believe God is sending vessels to support us. I believe God gashed His hand to save ours. Abide in trust.
Abide in Searching
Is it always easy to believe God abides with us? No. Do encouraging words on a page solve our problems? No. Is life suddenly easy when we abide in trust? No. Does God fix the pain of problems while we wait for the miracle of majesty? No, not always. That’s a lot of important noes. That’s a lot of important hits to our faith. It’s a lot of important hits to fragility, famine, or fatigue. Life is hard. Where’s the “yes” question? Where’s the “yes” answer? When is the “yes” answer? Abide in searching.
Abide in Refining
Several years ago I was talking to a friend when they said something I’ll never forget. He said, “I have a list of things God would never want.” I asked why he felt that way and if he believed God made him. “I guess He made me, but I know He’s sorry He did.” My heart went splat. God’s heart went splat. We talked for a long time about the story, about life and pain and the past. We talked about what causes us to feel so separated from a holy feeling. For the most part I listened. When someone is unwrapping self-worth, they aren’t looking for a pep talk. They’re looking for a place to simply abide. To protect privacy, I’ll spare the story of details, but at its core was a sense of failure. A series of things had happened, some caused by him and others not, but the result had been losing life as they knew it. My friend was abiding in failure. To keep it real, haven’t we all set up failure camp in our mind at one time or another? You can hardly travel this life without wondering about your worth either inwardly or outwardly. It’s rough, and it isn’t just a hand that’s torn open. It’s a life. Abide in refining.
Abide in Me
If Christ were sitting here reading this with you, if Christ were sitting in your ER putting stitches on your mistakes or wiping tears of pain from your face, if Christ were sitting beside your chair listening to your “list of things He would never want,” what in the world would He say to bring such a need full circle for you?
Which of the “abides” would He pick for your mental desperation, your life’s hot mess, your flat-out loss of answers? Which of the “abides” would He pick to answer your dreams and desires to live free or live fierce? I can only cry out from my own experience, and I can only imagine from my own friendship with Him, but I would guess it’s this. From the holy lips of Christ Himself and within the holy embrace of His warm body, the Lord Himself would look straight at your yearning eyes and say, “It’s none of your abides, my beloved. It’s abide in Me. Keep your eyes on me. I got you. I. Got. You. Abide in Me.”
“So that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith; and that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may be able to comprehend with all the saints what is the width and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ which surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled to all the fullness of God” (Eph. 3:17-19, NASB).
