It is interesting to me how often, in reading the Book of Concord, there is something relevant to me, to Myrtle, to my life this day.
Besides, God has commanded or assigned us nothing about the dead. [SA, Part II, Article II, 12]
Lately, when my feelings or experiences steer me off course, the admonishment I hear is: there is no promise assigned to that thought.
Promise. I have come to understand what a great and pervasive role the promises of God play in confessional Lutheranism. Beginning with the Promise.
Everything is about Christ crucified. From baptism to the Lord's Supper to Absolution, the good things God has for us are based on His work. The Word itself begins and ends with Jesus Christ; the Word itself is the first and last word amongst Lutherans. Not what you think about it or feel about it or how you apply it to your life. But what the Word says about our triune God...the promises of God, the gifts of Christ, the work of the Holy Spirit.
Hence: It will not do to frame articles of faith from the words or words of the holy Fathers...The true rule is this: God's Word shall establish the articles of faith, and no one else, not even an angel can do so (Galatians 1:8). [SA, Part II, Article II, 15]
You will NEVER hear a sermon based on The Purpose Driven Life or Promise Keepers or The Prayer of Jabez or whatever pop Christian book holds current status as bandwagon in a confessional Lutheran church. Amen and Amen...may it ALWAYS be so.
Likewise, I should not create articles of faith for myself based upon my feelings or my experiences.
Last night, I fell down the steps to the basement trying to tackle some laundry. My legs cramped something fierce and were such wet noodles that I lay trapped on the cold floor all night. I screamed for a while, wondering if my duplex neighbor would hear me and do something and I wept bitterly for a long while more...until my heart started feeling funny and I grew even more terrified.
I hate...HATE...that something is not quite right with that organ. I can deal with the constant pain and weakness, the battle with breathing, and the wonkiness, but I cannot bear this whole heart thing. I want it to beat faster, for when it slows I feel so queer. When I stand, if I do not faint, it feels as if my neck is going to explode on either side. I hate that pressure, enduring it until it passes. And I hate fainting, even though I do it often.
My heart began this thwonking, beating most irregularly, so I shoved my sadness aside and stifled my tears, forcing myself to calm my breathing and pretend lying on the floor with my legs screaming in pain is exactly what I wanted.
I am terrified about Monday. The very idea of giving me medicine to stress my heart terrifies me. Absolutely and utterly.
I close my eyes and I remember lying on the gurney three years ago, being resuscitated because some medical staff did not believe me when I said I had asthma and needed help when I started coughing. They ignored me until it was almost too late. I remember suffocating as my lungs stopped. I remember fading in and out of consciousness as they worked over me. I remember the terror and thinking it was asinine to be in that position in the first place. And I remember being alone...absolutely and utterly.
As much as I am fearful about what might happen Monday and how difficult it will be for me to be unclothed/underclothed for such a long period of time, I know I need to do this.
God, in His infinite mercy, has provided an undershepherd to pray with me tomorrow before this fearful testing on Monday. Pastor F called one of his brothers who lives near me and asked if he would tend to a scared sheep for him. His "yes" was immediate, no questions asked; he will be here tomorrow afternoon.
On Monday, no matter what happens, in each and every moment, Christ will be with me, praying for me, holding me, loving me...even in my doubts and fears and anguish.
Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief!
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