I wanted the bible last night, longed for it, ached for it in a way I have not known before. The asthma attack frightened me in that the smallest of moments that set it off, as has happened so frequently of late. I suspect this is because I have been so tired that I am forgetting my night time medicine. Still...
Struggling to breathe is frightening. I feel as if I should be used to it. But I am not. And each time being alone makes it worse. There is no comfort in the ER. Once I get hooked up to the solumedrol IV and the nebulizer, I am left alone. Old hat. Routine. Old hat is that I am alone, that I do not have anyone with whom to share the burden, to ask me how I am, to hold my hand, to murmur that it will soon be better, to ask me how I am doing later. Even here when I blog that I am in the ER, no one ever asks how I am afterward. Unless I am having an attack in front of someone, it is as if having asthma doesn't matter.
The last few months, I have taken my bible with me, but I rushed out of the house without it. I wanted to read the Word, to hear it. I even asked for a chaplin, sure he would laugh at a request to read, but none was available.
Sitting there, waiting for the treatments to end and enough time to pass so that I could leave, I kept thinking about this hymn that Pastor sent a few weeks ago. Part of it is based on Romans 8:38, a favorite passage of mine. But most of it is hard to sing, so much the fraud I feel doing so. I long to have those words fall from my lips in truth, but I struggle far, far more than what is spoken in that hymn.
As with my other ER trips, I raced home and changed clothes and then headed to the office to pretend that I am perfectly fine. Nothing less is acceptable.
But, on the way, I called Pastor and asked if he would sing to me the hymn:
Through Jesus' Blood and Merit
Through Jesus' blood and merit
I am at peace with God.
What, then, can daunt my spirit,
However dark my road?
My courage shall not fail me,
For God is on my side;
Though hell itself assail me,
Its rage I may deride.
There's nothing that can sever
From this great love of God,
No want, no pain whatever,
No famine, peril, flood.
Though thousand foes surround me,
For slaughter mark His sheep,
They never shall confound me,
The vict'ry I shall reap.
For neither life's temptation
Nor death's most trying hour
Nor angels of high station
Nor any other pow'r
Nor things that now are present
Nor things that are to come
Nor height, however pleasant,
Nor darkest depths of gloom
Nor any creature ever
Shall from the love of God
This ransomed sinner sever;
For in my Savior's blood
This love has its foundation;
God hears my faithful prayer
And long before creation
Named me His child and heir.
(LSB 746)
I went to the Lessons and Carols service tonight, but sat in the back stairwell. I had no business singing, but I did, not caring that I was disturbing the group from another church that had gathered in the basement to have some sort of service that consisted primarily of long ululations in growing intensity. Hearing so much Scripture read aloud, hearing the story of Christ from Old Testament to New, was so very comforting. No matter the cold, no matter that I was in my sweats crouched behind a door with my ear pressed against it so that I did not miss any words...the Word of Christ in Isaiah...the Word of Christ in Luke...words of peace....
Suddenly, singing "peace on earth," its meaning shifted for me. The peace I have with God is not a feeling. Okay, so that sounds stupidly obvious. To me, it has not been. For I have not been feeling peaceful, therefore how could I have peace with God? The peace I have with God is not a feeling. The peace I have with God was bought with the blood of Christ, with Him serving as a propitiation for my inequity, taking my just reward of eternal death upon His shoulders. Without that, I am an enemy of God. For I am, as is all mankind, a sinner. No, the peace I have with God is certainly not a feeling. It is, strangely enough, the peace won on the battlefield.
Peace: an agreement or treaty between warring or antagonistic nations, groups, etc., to end hostilities and abstain from further fighting or antagonism.
The peace I have with God is a reconciliation, one made as I was joined with Christ in His death and resurrection. Because Christ won the peace, not I, it is an agreement that cannot be broken by any man, by any created thing under the heavens or on the earth. The peace I have with God is not a feeling, is not based on my own abilities or acumen, and is eternal.
Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!
What is mercy? A pastor unexpectedly sending me the audio file of the Christmas sermon from a year ago that God used to set me on the path to His pure Truth found in the Lutheran confessions.
Tarry not, Lord Jesus. Oh, please, tarry not!
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