Don't Forget the Things Your Eyes Have Seen

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I was in a foreign land thirty-eight years ago when doctors discovered a sarcoma in me the size of a grapefruit. That is a big tumour for a slip of a girl about to celebrate her third birthday. My dad and grandfather rushed me to the emergency room because I had popped a penny in my mouth and swallowed it and it lodged in my esophagus.

When they scanned for the penny on the x-ray, they found more than they ever imagined. They left me in the hospital that night and carried the bad news back to my mom.

I don’t remember swallowing the penny or spending the night alone in the hospital in England. I don’t remember flying home to Canada or meeting all the doctors that poked and prodded. I don’t remember being admitted to the Hospital for SickKids on that day in September.

I don’t remember the surgery that couldn’t get all the cancer.



I do remember lying very still on a hard, cold table while the doctors blasted me with radiation. I remember months and months of chemotherapy.

No one could say if all the treatment would even kill the cancer; a type of cancer that was so rare to even be found in a child. They drew up a plan for a three year old that was as aggressive as if they were treating an adult with a sarcoma.

My mom, she refused to take me down for my first day of radiation, just weeks after my surgery. I can’t blame her. I’m not sure if I could have subjected any of my three year olds to everything my body has had to endure.

My doctor called her on the phone and told her, if she did not bring me down to Toronto, I would not live. But, she had already been warned of the horrors of all the side effects. How do parents make a heart-wrenching choice like that?

Doomed if you do, but dead if you don’t.

That first appointment was rescheduled. And every weekday for the next five weeks they put me on that cold table in a large room with a big machine killing things I knew nothing about.

I still tremble when I think about that table.

For two years, my fight with cancer continued.

For the next thirty-six years, I have pressed on and I look back lest I forget what my eyes have seen.



No one knew back in 1979 that the radiotherapy they blasted at me as a 3 year old child would send me into advanced heart failure as a 37 year old mom of three young children.

It had already destroyed a lung and so the open-heart surgery I needed was risky business.

How can a body with 30% lung capacity manage on a heart-lung machine for over six hours? No one knew if it could.

Stepping up on to that operating table was a step of faith.

Faith perseveres by seeing “Him who is invisible” we are told in Hebrews 11:27.

My eyes have never seen God. I have never stood before a burning bush or stood at the foot of a mountain and see it burn with fire or heard the voice of God. But, I have seen His wonders; I have seen His glory displayed in my life. I have known the truth He has revealed in His Word.

I will give thanks to God for the great things He has done.



In Deuteronomy, Moses exhorts the children of Israel to not forget what the Lord God has done for them. They are once again on the eastern border of the Promised Land. Moses was forbidden to enter the land and he would die in the land of Moab before God would tell Joshua to cross over the Jordan and take possession of the land He was giving the children of Israel.

They have wandered in the wilderness for 40 years. And now, before Moses dies, he urges the people, with a series of sermons and prophecies, to obey the Lord God who is faithful, unchanging, and full of grace and mercy. God had demonstrated His power and love over and over and yet, it keeps slipping from their mind that He alone is God.

What slips from our mind can never lead to gratitude in our hearts. You forget his wonders, and next you will be forgetting God.



In Deuteronomy 4:9, Moses tells this generation of Israelites: 

“Only take care, and keep your soul diligently, lest you forget the things that your eyes have seen, and lest they depart from your heart all the days of your life. Make them known to your children and your children’s children.”

Don’t forget! Don’t forget what you have seen God do. Don’t let it slip from your memory. Tell it over and over to your children. Don’t give any room for any idols in your heart. God is good and faithful. God is just and holy. He alone is God. Do you know it?



John Calvin, in his commentary on Deuteronomy, wrote:

“the people must beware of shutting their eyes against the clear revelation of God's power, and therefore urges them to keep it in memory, because man's ingratitude is but too prone to forgetfulness."

We don’t know what we may have to face tomorrow.

We don’t know what the road will look like. It may look like the impossible. It may look like cancer or some other sickness, or a costly sacrifice, or persecution, or reproach.

It may look like the Red Sea, or the wilderness, or the Jordan River. It may part and you will step out in faith on the dry ground able to endure because you are relying on God’s promises.



Thirty-eight years ago the doctors found a sarcoma right beside my heart. Three years ago doctors rebuilt my heart, but they didn’t think I would wake up that night after the surgery.

For three years now my heart ticks loud like a clock in my chest. I can hear it keep time with a steady beat as if to remind me every moment of the day.

Before God had created the world, He knew my every heartbeat. He knows my days. By grace, He has brought me back to Himself and with His steadfast love will lead me all the days of my life.

I have seen God do great things. He alone is God. I will not forget.

I will tell them to my children and if it is God’s will, to their children.

Held in the Storm

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It is after the storm passes. When the howling wind that pierced the heart hushes. The surging waves that smashed life to bits become still. And you realize you made it; you lived through it all. You survived. You are still standing.

That is when it hit me. Before the wild storm I thought I had living figured out--until life was almost snuffed out.

I fought and thrashed and floundered. Fought to live for my husband. Fought to live for my children. But when I had fought long and hard enough to keep on living, the frailty of life was too real and I became lost. Lost in the land of the living.

That is when I became afraid to live and scared to suffer anymore.





They say open-heart surgery can send you straight into depression. I fell hard. Into the darkness. Alone. I sunk to a seemingly bottomless pit.

I lost my way.

I lost my words.

I lost the wonder of life.

I became numb. Numb to the very thing I loved to proclaim: the goodness of God.

His grace was blazing like the sunshine splashing gold through the winter branches outside my window, but my eyes focused on the barrenness instead of the Light.

“My hope is built on nothing less

Than Jesus Christ, my righteousness;

I dare not trust the sweetest frame,

But wholly lean on Jesus’ name.”

And, looking away from the shining radiance, I began to sink, like Peter out on the turbulent sea.

Fear held me hostage. Fear does that. It will hold you back and make you withdraw. And you may wonder why God seems so silent.

When Peter stepped out of the boat and fixed his eyes on Jesus he walked on the water. When he saw the wind, he was afraid. When he looked away from the Lord, he tried to flee the danger and ended up withdrawing from the very One who would reach out to help him. And he began to sink.

It is faith that looks to Jesus. Peter had faith. And yes, Jesus reprimanded him for his “little faith”, but not until after He had reached out His hand and took hold of Peter. He held him secure and helped him to trust Him more.

He had already told Peter not to be afraid. He had already told him to: “Take heart, it is I”. He had already bid him to “come”. He had already told him to walk out amidst the storm and trust him. And after Peter falters and flails around in the sea, after Peter looks to the waves and begins to sink, Jesus reaches out his hand and takes hold of Peter and they get back into the boat and the wind ceased.

His anchor held him--through the storm and after the storm.

"When darkness veils His lovely face,

I rest on His unchanging grace;

In every high and stormy gale,

My anchor holds within the veil."

So, when fear grips us and we begin to sink, the Anchor holds us. He has gone before us. He will not let go.

“We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf, having become a high priest forever.” (Hebrews 6:20-21)

My eyes looked away. Depression clouded my sight. Fear crept in and all I could think to do was to flee, to withdraw. And I began to sink.

I cried out for help, like Peter floundering in the sea.

And when I looked up away from my troubles and fixed my gaze on Jesus, I knew He never let go. He reached out and He took hold of me. The winds ceased. Life sails on. And, it is not a matter of if God is silent.

He has spoken:

“ . . . in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed the heir of all things, through whom also he created the world. He is the radiance of the glory of God and the exact imprint of his nature, and he upholds the universe by the word of his power. After making purification for sins, he sat down at the right hand of the Majesty on high . . .” (Hebrews 1:1-3)

The storms, they come. We have been battered and beaten. But, we have been held. He reaches out His hand and takes hold and gently nudges, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?”

Don’t look to the waves. Look to the One who made the seas and who has power over the waves.

“His oath, His covenant, His blood,

Support me in the whelming flood;

When all around my soul gives way,

He then is all my hope and stay.”

And after the storm you realize, yes, you made it. And through it your faith is strengthened and your joy is sweeter. Fear turns to awe. The glimpse of the glory you saw, you can’t gaze on it, but you look to the King of grace.

The wonder of His sovereign grace opens your eyes to see His goodness, the display of His righteous power stirs words of praise, and the eternal hope found in Him leads you home.

“When He shall come with trumpet sound,

Oh, may I then in Him be found;

In Him, my righteousness, alone,

Faultless to stand before the throne.

On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;

All other ground is sinking sand.”

When the Knife of the Heavenly Surgeon Cuts Deep

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There is a brown box stuffed on my bookshelf in the basement that holds squares of paper with words of hope inscribed on them. Three years ago this month, one blistering Sunday afternoon, friends and family gathered together to remember the hope we have in Jesus Christ and to cry out to God for the will of the Lord to be accomplished in my heart.

We prayed that we would decrease and that He would increase. We prayed for God’s glory to be revealed in my body in whatever he had purposed for me.

This box was neatly tied up with a pretty white bow and given to me that day. Four days later, the day before my surgeon cut into my heart, I sat on the edge of a hospital bed and loosened the bow. In the box was a collection of verses that had been lovingly hand-written on blue and white cardstock for me. They were balm for my soul.

They were words of truth that I had to unpack. They spoke of the hope that does not disappoint. I clung to hope like the anchor it is when the storm is raging and the night is dark. 

On one card these words, spoken by David after he was rescued from the hand of Saul, and recorded for us in Psalm 18, were scrawled:

“The LORD is my rock and my fortress and my deliverer, my God, my rock, in whom I take refuge, my shield, and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold. I call upon the LORD, who is worthy to be praised, and I am saved from my enemies.”

In times of distress, upheaval, turmoil, pain and suffering the Psalmist knew where to go. David knew His God was His refuge and His redeemer.



Even as torrents of destruction charged at him and cords of death confronted him, he knew to whom he could run. David called upon the Lord. He cried out to God for help. And without a doubt he knew his cry had reached the ears of the Lord.

David knew he could trust in God because He knew something of the majesty, the holiness, the justice, the mercy, the loving-kindness, the faithfulness, and the immutability of God.

And in seeing who God is, he gained a right perspective on his situation and on his own self.

On another card in my box, someone else had gracefully copied four more verses from the same Psalm:

“For it is you who light my lamp; the LORD my God lightens my darkness. For by you I can run against a troop, and by my God I can leap over a wall. This God—his way is perfect; the word of the LORD proves true; he is a shield for all those who take refuge in him. For who is God, but the LORD? And who is a rock, except our God?”

David, the Psalmist, again reminded himself of what he knew to be true about God and acted upon it. He held on to the faithfulness of God. He fixed his focus on the God who is faithful to do exactly as He has promised.

When times are turbulent and trials rise up, look to God and His attributes.

Three years ago, as I laid myself down on the operating table the cords of death confronted me. As I woke up from open-heart surgery, torrents of distress assaulted me. My heart had been broken. But, God was near.

Charles Spurgeon wrote:

“The God of providence has limited the time, manner, intensity, repetition, and effects of all our sicknesses; each throb is decreed, each sleepless hour predestinated, each relapse ordained, each depression of spirit foreknown, and each sanctifying result eternally purposed. Nothing great or small escapes the ordaining hand of him who numbers the hairs of our head . . . The knife of the heavenly Surgeon never cuts deeper than is absolutely necessary.”

Three years ago, I walked through the valley and narrowly escaped death. I walked through upheaval and God set it right. I walked in weakness and God gave strength. I walked through confusion and God brought comfort. I walked through loneliness and God was near. I walked through depression and God heard my cry. I walked through fear and God was with me.

“The knife of the heavenly Surgeon never cuts deeper than is absolutely necessary.”

 

This summer, I rode up the side of a mountain in a gondola and climbed up to its peak. I sat there on the mountain, with an elevation of nearly 8000 feet, and was immensely aware of my smallness and in awe of the majesty of God.

At that point I could say with David,

“He made my feet like the feet of a deer and set me secure on the heights.”

God had brought me from a low, low point and had raised me up to see more of His glory.



I knew that day that you can't stay on top of the mountain, but the overwhelming grandeur of God's power and majesty leaves you wanting more. More of God, more of His beauty and mercy and grace.

We came down the mountain singing “Amazing Grace” . . . “I once was lost, but now am found, was blind but now I see.”

God's grace leads us up the mountain and back down into the valley where we look up and remember where our strength comes from.

It is the joy of the Lord that is our strength. It is the soul that sings with David at the beginning of this Psalm, “I love you, O Lord, my strength” that will also say, “ . . . I will praise you, O Lord, among the nations, and sing to your name.”

Yes, there will be valleys to walk through. There will be trials to face and floods of wickedness will surround us. But, God’s glory shines bright in our dark days. 

There is life to be lived, lessons to be learned, strength to be gained, grace to be received, and glory to be revealed.

And, we will go on our way rejoicing in Him and His goodness for all of our days because He is our Redeemer, our Strength, our Rock and our Shield.

This truth can’t just be boxed in with pretty white bows. It has to be unpacked. It has to be lived out.

When you realize the truth about God and take refuge in Him, when He is your quiet resting place, when you hold on to the faithfulness of God, when you take what you know about God and apply what you know, then your faith is strengthened and God is glorified.

The Tragedy When Children Fail to Grow into Maturity

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A lovely dove moans outside my window. I hear the whirr of happy children as they race home from the park on bicycles. A trail of voices drift in as neighbors catch up on life.

I look through the window panes speckled with dried-water spots and the brightness of the sun shines down on the white cast iron bench and reflects a blinding glare that stings my eyes. My eyes flit over to the shadow lying on the grass beside the overgrown pine bush.

The sounds I heard a moment ago have faded. The dove is silent and sparrows chirp to each other now. A gentle breeze slips in my open window and I feel it cool on my bare arms. A white puffy cloud sailed across the blue skies, swallowed the sun, chased the shadows away and dimmed the glare. The children have now clambered around the kitchen table and childish chatter fills the room as they gulp cold water and wait for grilled cheese.

It’s the dog days of summer, when days are savoured, not spent. When children hunt for toads and stare at insects and when times of boredom make way for creativity and inspiration. When we can linger longer in the afternoon shade or under bright stars blinking in the inky blackness.

We watched a cicada crawl across the grass after it burst out of its old shell last week. Sadness hung in the air as we witnessed the struggle it endured to unfurl its wings and when the wings failed to stretch open we knew there was no way it could live without those wings taking flight.

“Mom?”, my girl queried, “can I take this old skin and put it on the nature table?” And she ran in and cupped it like it was costly treasure, with great care, she set it with other little marvels we have found in this great world God has made: shells, fossils, bark, big-leaf maple leaves and fungi, nests, and feathers.

As children, the world is full of wonder to be discovered. When the time and opportunity is given, children will explore the wonders all around them. They will grow in knowledge and in appreciation of the living things that are in their own backyard.

Children have a natural curiosity about their world. They want to dig, search, discover, climb, reach for the next level, and soar. Children want to grow and learn. They want to know they are loved and love in return. Spread before them a banqueting table and they will come and joyously feast.





Jesus’ disciples asked him:

“Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?”

And Jesus called and put a child in the centre of them. He turned their focus to a child. It was humility to which he drew their attention. To be a follower of Christ is to humble self and trust Christ. A child is willing to come and trust.

However, as Don Carson explains in volume two of For the Love of God:

“ . . . childlikeness is not childishness; simplicity is not simple-mindedness; humility is not servility.”

If the child failed to grow, like the cicada that couldn’t unfurl his wings and fly away, it would be a tragedy, a travesty. When we are given faith to believe, that is simply the beginning. Our faith is to grow and be strengthened.

Yes, we are to come to Christ as children, but we are to grow up into maturity in grace, knowledge, faith, love, hope.





Paul warned in his letter he wrote to the Christians in Ephesus:

“ . . . that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ . . . ”

And the writer of Hebrews exhorted his readers:

“For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the basic principles of the oracles of God. You need milk, not solid food, for everyone who lives on milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, since he is a child. But solid food is for the mature, for those who have their powers of discernment trained by constant practice to distinguish good from evil.”

And later in his letter, the writer urged:

“Therefore let us leave the elementary doctrine of Christ and go on to maturity . . . ”

These are the days we must dig deeper, look longingly, search diligently, rightly handling the Word of God.



Come child-like in humility and in wonder and grow up into maturity by growing in knowledge of God who is Creator and Lord of all.

We have a great feast to spread before us. We know we don’t live by bread alone, but by every word that proceeds from the mouth of God.

Read His word. Meditate on His Word. Memorize it, chew it, savour it. Study it. Dig deeper and move on from elementary doctrine.



You will grow in love and in faith as you grow in knowledge of the Lord God. Let His Word be a lamp to guide your feet and light to your path in the midst of a dark world.

As it has been said, “Your heart can’t love what your mind doesn’t know.”

Know God. Come in humility, grow in grace. And your heart will want more of God and all His shining glory.

The One Way To Get What Your Heart Desires

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It was my grandma’s. It hung in her house for as long as I can remember. I carried it home with me from the nursing home, held it close to my heart, after her breath had rattled and hers days had ended and I said good-bye.

It’s a piece of antique wall art, carved wood with gilded letters and pink roses, and in the midst of fresh grief, without much thought, I hung it on an empty nail in our ensuite. It hangs not so much for decor but more as a daily reminder. It has lost it’s lustre with old dust that needs to be scrubbed from the crevices, but the truth of those ancient words will never fade.

You can pass down truth like that. You can cling to truth that steers your life into a life that is worth living.



That old wall hanging, it won’t last. This life here, as we know it, it will pass. But, truth . . .truth is eternal. And the truth is, intimacy with God is what makes living most satisfying, most real, most true.

The old-fashioned letters etched in the wood and covered in gold paint that decorate my wall are words quoted from a hymn, a psalm, a poem that King David wrote. They are words that come from an old man who has the advantage of looking back over many years and speaking wisdom to countless restless souls longing to find rest and peace.

They are words for souls that need to be exhorted to “Fret not yourself” and instructed to: “Trust in the Lord”.

These words are truth that nourishes souls that, all through the ages, must be reminded that the Lord upholds and will not forsake the righteous.

We not only need these words as reminders, we need this truth that urges the faithful to patiently, earnestly seek the Lord with all your heart.

David knew this truth and sang these words in his poem, recorded in Psalm 37:

“Delight yourself in the Lord and He shall give you the desires of your heart.”

I look upon these ancient words day after day. There is much to take our eyes away from the beauty of the Lord. My heart needs to heed this message that is as true today as the day David sang it. There are fears, evil, injustice, and wickedness. But, the Psalmist presses in to deal with all those fears because He knows nothing can frustrate God’s plan. God doesn’t change. His truth does not change.





It is the soul that delights in God that is fully satisfied. It is the heart that delights in God that finds true happiness.

It is the heart that is soft and tender toward God that discovers that the ultimate desire is to delight in God and His glory. God will not forsake the righteous and will shape your heart to desire exactly what He desires you to have: more of Him.

Charles Spurgeon wrote:

“Make God’s glory your object in life; live in His sight; dwell close to him; seek for fellowship with Him; and thou has ‘godliness’”.

A life that makes God’s glory the object in life is a life that will know the joy of the Lord and that joy is our strength in the face of whatever trial or difficultly may arise.

To delight in the Lord is not to live a life of ease or full of prosperity or free from challenging circumstances. But, God shapes your heart to desire the right things: to live a life that “trusts in the Lord”, “commits your way to the Lord”, to “be still before the Lord” and “wait patiently for the Lord”.

In the shaping, the Potter takes the clay and forms it with his hands to be fit for that which He has purposed.

Look to the Lord. Make God’s glory the object of your life. Delight in the Lord. Make God be what your heart desires.

Make your living worth living.

Horatius Bonar, a poet and hymn writer from Scotland in the 19th century, wrote a little book called “Follow the Lamb”. In it he encourages the young Christian:

“Your life is a Book; it may be a volume of larger or smaller size; and conversion is but the title-page or the preface. The Book itself remains to be written; and your years and weeks and days are its chapters and leaves and lines. It is a Book written for eternity; see that it be written well.”

A life written well is a life that can say my absolute delight is the Lord. A life that is truly living is one that my heart’s desires are met in God alone. God perfectly sets in place the desires of my heart and I find I am fully satisfied in Him.

He gives us the desires of our hearts when the deepest beat of our heart is for Him alone.

In the “Valley of Vision”, we have a prayer of a Puritan who prayed this prayer with this heartbeat:

“O GOD OF MY DELIGHT,

Thy throne of grace

is the pleasure ground of my soul.

Here I obtain mercy in time of need,

here see the smile of thy reconciled face,

here joy pleads the name of Jesus,

here I sharpen the sword of the Spirit,

anoint the shield of faith,

put on the helmet of salvation,

gather manna from thy Word,

am strengthened for each conflict,

nerved for the upward race,

empowered to conquer every foe;

Help me to come to Christ

as the fountain head of descending blessings,

as a wide open flood-gate of mercy . . . 

Quicken me, stir me, fill me with holy zeal.

Strengthen me that I may cling to thee

and not let thee go.

May thy Spirit within me draw all blessings

from thy hand. . . . 

Impress on my mind the shortness of time,

the work to be engaged in,

the account to be rendered,

the nearness of eternity,

the fearful sin of despising thy Spirit.

May I never forget that

thy eye always sees,

thy ear always hears,

thy recording hand always writes.

May I never give thee rest until Christ is

the pulse of my heart . . . ”

When You Pass Through the Impassable

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Have you ever come to the edge of an impassable situation?

When the circumstances that lie before you bring life to a frightful halt?

Somehow you must go forward, but there is no foreseeable way to get to the other side of the obstacle surging ahead.

To do so requires more strength and courage than your weak body and weary soul could muster.

Have you ever stood on the brink of rushing waters with a longing to get to the other side, but with absolutely no sensible way to cross?

It’s easier to turn around and give up, give in to the cowardice that creeps in the corners of every heart.




But, there is hope. There is a sure way. There is obedience. There is trust.

There is this way that quiets the cowardice and builds strength and brings forth courage. It is the way of obedience. It is the way of faith. It is the way one walks when the Lord your God is with you.

When you are sure of the presence of the Lord you will pass though the impassible.

When you trust in the Lord God you will walk across your Jordon River on dry ground.





After Moses died, the Lord exalted Joshua to lead His people to the Promised Land. They had to cross the Jordon River to get to their place of rest. God had promised that He would give them this land to possess and He had shown Himself faithful to them over and over.

The Lord said to Joshua:

“Just as I was with Moses, so I will be with you. I will not leave you or forsake you . . . Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”

Knowing the Lord is near kills fear and births courage.

The assurance that the Lord is with you is the strength you need to walk in obedience and the courage to pass the impassible and come to the place of rest.



I had come to an impassable place. I looked ahead and could not see a way forward. My body was frail. It had let me down. My mind was troubled. My soul was weary.

It was then that I longed to go clear across Canada to stand at the Pacific Ocean: the mighty ocean that means, “the peaceful sea”. Lying in the hospital in great turmoil, I wanted to feel the sand between my toes and breathe in the salt air and take our children across a beautiful land to show them all the mighty things God has done.

But, I couldn’t even walk to the end of a hospital bed. I could not breathe on my own and no one knew if I ever would again.

My heart had to heal from surgery. And bones had to regrow and nerves had to repair. My mind had to be restored.

I had to be strong and courageous. I had to stop the grumbling and see the good things God had done. I had to trust the Lord and know that He is with me.

He brings us to the brink of the Jordon to trust Him; to lead us to find our rest in Him.



Once the people of Israel crossed the Jordon, the Lord told Joshua to take twelve men—one man from each tribe--to take twelve stones out of the midst of the Jordon River and lay them down as a memorial. So that, in time, when their children would ask, “What do these stones mean?” they would say:

“‘Israel passed over the Jordon on dry ground. For the LORD your God dried up the waters of the Jordon for you until you passed over, as the LORD your God did to the Red Sea, which he dried up for us until we passed over, so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the LORD is mighty, that you may fear the LORD your God forever.’”

When we pass through the impassible, others see the mighty hand of God and we know without a doubt that it was God--and God alone--that brought us through. We are not to cower in fear at our circumstances, but we are to stand in awe of God’s majesty and acknowledge His goodness and worship Him forever.

Whatever is looming ahead, God is with you.

Whatever may seem impassible, God will make the way to pass through.

You must trust Him and obediently follow. It is a laying down of self. It’s the way of surrender. It’s the walk of faith.

That’s what I knew when I dipped my feet in the Pacific Ocean off the coast of Vancouver Island on the last day of June this year--the year Canada turned 150. The icy water at Long Beach stabbed at my toes and the soles of my feet turned numb as the sea-water splashed at my shins. My family plunged into the salty cold ocean, tried to ride a few waves on their bellies and shrieked with stunned laughter as every inch of their bodies tingled from being alive.

The wind whipped sand and strings of hair into my face as I turned out toward the vast ocean and knew that God, in His mercy, had brought me to this place. I can sing along with Horatio Gates Spafford:

“When peace like a river attendeth my way,

when sorrows like sea billows roll;

whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,

“It is well, it is well with my soul.”

Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,

let this blest assurance control:

that Christ has regarded my helpless estate,

and has shed his own blood for my soul. 

My sin oh, the bliss of this glorious thought!

my sin, not in part, but the whole,

is nailed to the cross, and I bear it no more;

praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul! 

O Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight,

the clouds be rolled back as a scroll;

the trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend;

even so, it is well with my soul.”

By the work of Christ, He has brought us to rest in Him. We were without hope. We were without a way to pass through. But Christ has brought us back to Himself and gives us life, fills us with hope.

See what the Lord has done? He brings us to the impassible and leads us to the place of rest.