Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Space (01/23/06)
TITLE: What God Desires
By Lois Jennison Tribble
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I lack energy to keep my eyes open, but I hear paramedics bustling around me. Their frustration is palpable--even with oxygen I'm suffocating; my cells block entry. I know they're doing all that's possible.
Creeping paralysis: Socrates' was caused by hemlock--how long till he died? Mine is different: untreatable disease inhibits my capacity to generate energy. When vital functions are threatened, nonessentials shut down. Once core energy is consumed, then...? "Untreatable": a strange word in this day of medical marvels.
His increase, my decrease: no other options? <i>Like a camel through the eye of the needle,</i> either I'm too big or the opening's too small. If "The Eye" were a location...perhaps a kneeling camel released from its burden might pass. My legs are boards, lifeless appendages without feeling. I cannot kneel!
"B-B-B-Boards! Boards!" I struggle to communicate; no one understands. My husband speaks urgently on the phone with my doctors: an MD-turned-homeopath in his eighties and his Ukrainian partner, a Messianic-Jew. Extensive ER experience undergirds their skill in detecting the right homeopathic remedy to reverse my symptoms. I know they are trying. I feel my son's reassuring squeeze, but I cannot return it. My hands--I've lost movement.
<i>I am powerless:</i> truth brings freedom. Like sunlight breaking through clouds, recognition makes clear vision possible. <i>Give God room! What is not possible for man is possible with God.</i>
Of course! If men have power for the job, where is God's glory? If we could save ourselves, why was Jesus' death necessary? <i>I must decrease...</i>
My flesh arrests me; I've lost control. <i>Jesus loves me; this I know....</i> A cradle of childlike trust sustains me.
<i>Give God space.</i> He already fills the vastness of creation; He desires delivery of what He bought with His blood: His creatures and their innermost sanctuary, the hidden space within.
I gave Him my heart...what more can there be? But inwardly I stand in the doorway and block: no admittance past here!
God is so good. I see Achan's buried treasure concealed in his tent: things promised to God, separated out not for God but for himself. Why is Achan's face like mine?
What am I concealing? Has Christ been a cruel taskmaster like Pharaoh, withholding straw from his brickmakers? God forgive me! The Doorway-to-all-possibility swings open. Confession yields victory, exposing my hiding place.
I surrender, pulling a spiritual ripcord. His presence lifts me like the sudden bursting of a tightly packed parachute, as fast as air rushes to fill a vacuum. Why have I acted as if He begrudges His children what they require to do His labor? He longs to bless me!
What are they doing? I hear the clatter of my youngest son and daughter rummaging through a bag of near-empty bottles: discarded homeopathic remedies. How did they know I kept them tucked in a private space inside my bathroom drawer? "Hurry!" my husband insists.
As the paramedics watch, my son inserts a tiny glass dropper between my lips. He squeezes the bulb end, releasing the last precious drops of Conium solution: an extremely dilute form of hemlock, the substance that induces paralysis. As "likes cure likes", it could trigger a positive response. It isn't fresh, but how is it possible we even have any? The paralysis nears my diaphragm: I gasp for air. What's the use of Conium at this stage? I'm out of time.
Again, I usurp center stage, directing God to a seat in the balcony. What gives me the right to command? Is He, or is He not my Master--Author and Finisher of my faith?
<i>Step aside; get out of His way. He who began a good work in you will carry it on to completion until the day of Christ Jesus.</i>
He is responsible; He will provide. My job is simple: <i>trust and obey.</i>
To God be the glory, JEHOVAH Uzzi, the LORD my strength: all sufficient; sovereign. With confidence in Him, in His love--I am prepared--<i>whatever.</i>
My suddenly-active feet startle me. Until now, I've been struggling unsuccessfully to move them on my own. Directed by Jesus Christ, how far might they take me?
John 3:30; Mark 10:25-27; Joshua 7; Philippians 1:6 (NIV); Psalm 28:6-9
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