My time in the Word of God today has been particularly poignant. It's amazing to me those times when the Word of God seems like it was etched out for you just for this time, this circumstance. As if God read your thoughts and penned these specific words thousands of years before to speak to you today. How beautiful the life that is contained in that book and in the breath of the Holy Spirit whispering in my ear.
Death has been weighing heavy on my heart. Watching the news about the tragedy of the death of the worker in Kabul, then a few days later the death of three others. To top it all of, the two year anniversary of my brother's death looms next week (November 1). My journey with God over the last two years has been infused with deep moments of prayer, frustration, resolution and paradoxical confusion of the experience of death.
This week in my study of the book of Daniel we have been concentrating on the story of Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego as they refused to bow to the golden statue that Nebachudnezzar erected of himself and then were thrown in to the furnace of fire as punishment. And lo and behold, a fourth person appeared with them in the furnace and they were not even singed, did not even have the scent of smoke on them.
In the Beth Moore study I'm doing, she talks about this miracle and how a deliverance from death really builds your faith. But then turns to the inevitable question...what about all those who perish in the fire? Unexpected tragedies? seemingly "untimely" death? This is something that I haven't theoretically pondered but has been a soul-wrestling for me.
One thing that has deepened in my heart is knowing that death is not an end, but a moment along the journey. Death is not something to be avoided (because we can't!) but an event which closes one chapter and begins another. To be honest, I held a lot of fear in my heart after the initial news of the aid worker in Kabul. But, if we spend our whole lives trying to make everything as safe as it can possibly be, chances are we will never fully live the abundant lives God has called us to live. As I approach the two year mark of life on earth devoid of James' physical presence, I feel more resolve to not tip-toe around death (but neither do I cast myself into that fiery furnace either!). God has called me, God will guide me, and it is my hope that I will not be singed or even smell like smoke, but I want to stand and say with these three men, "even if [God does not save us from the fire] we will not serve your gods or worship the image of gold." My loyalty is to God, not the fear of men, not the fear of death, not hiding under a safety blanket, not the golden image of anything on this earth.
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