Breathing In Hope

 Breathless. When I think of that word, I think of the time my sister, at 10 years old, slipped on a puddle in the bathroom and fell onto the side of the tub. The wind was knocked out of her so forcefully that she passed out. Or I remember the time my son broke his fall on his arm and his diaphragm. His first complaint was not the arm that was then broken, but that he got the wind knocked out of him. I think of this past Christmas, when the burning frankincense I had smelled gave me a reaction that almost sent me to the hospital- breathless.

Most of the time, we don't think about breathing. It comes naturally; the casual rise and fall of our chests goes completely unnoticed. There is too much life happening all around us to think about it. But every once in a while, life knocks the wind out of us- and breathing, or lack of it, is the only thing we think about. The only thing that's important. The only thing that matters. Being made breathless can happen physically, but it's not limited to that. It can happen in a moment. Like the moment you get shocking news, the moment you discover drugs in your child's room, or the moment you realize your marriage is in trouble. It can happen in the moment your doctor tells you the diagnosis, the moment in the office when they let you go, or the moment your car is slammed by another. Have you ever experienced that sudden jolt that jerks everything important into alignment? Suddenly, all the important things in life come floating to the surface, while all the unimportant things settle out of sight. 

Usually when life knocks the wind out of me, a fear blizzard forms, and the "what-ifs" come flying at my face like a gust full of snowflakes. And I see my husband, my kids, and my relationship with God with stunning clarity. The thoughts brought to mind aren't the material possessions I want, the comparisons I make, or the arguments I had that day with the kids. The thoughts brought to my mind are, "Did I love enough in life?" "God, are You still in control?" "Will my worst case scenario come true?" "Why did I spend so much time on the things that didn't matter?" The gifts that breathlessness brings are crystal clarity, properly held priorities, and this all important question: What am I breathing in?

I saw a movie last night where there was a crisis on a plane, and the passengers were energetic with panic. There were screaming women, frantic men, and pandemonium in the cabin. The captain, desperate to calm down his passengers, pressed the button to release the oxygen masks from the ceiling. The passengers were instructed to sit down and place the masks on their faces. They obeyed, and all got to task on breathing in and out. There was oxygen already in that cabin, because the frightened passengers were obviously very much alive. But the captain knew that they needed concentrated doses of oxygen to nourish their taxed lungs and hearts. He knew that getting them to sit and breathe would give them something to do other than panic. He knew that as they breathed in and out intentionally, that in time, their pulse would slow down and their lungs would relax.

If life has dealt you a blow in the stomach, and you're gasping for air, you're not alone. I've been there, as frightened as those passengers on the plane. Screaming, crying, and desperate for relief.  What are we going to breathe in? Will we heave and gasp fear, panic, and despair? Will we choke and sputter chaos, discouragement, and hopelessness? Or will we listen to the voice of our Captain to sit down, place the mask of faith on our faces, and breathe in concentrated doses of hope? The air in your lungs won't change your circumstance. The hope you breathe in will still allow for tears to make their way down your face. What you breathe in through the mask of faith is the hope that will keep you anchored when the wind and the waves threaten to tear your life apart. 

"Therefore, we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls." Hebrews 6: 18b-19a

I'm not promised that difficulties will go away. I'm not promised things will be easy. I'm not promised that life will go back to normal. I'm promised something even greater than that. 

I'm promised that the hope I breathe in through faith in Christ will be my anchor when the wind knocks the air out of my sails. 

Hope in what? Hope that God is faithful. Hope that He can redeem anything. Hope that He is in control when I feel out of control. Hope that when the pressure in my cabin changes, that the God of grace will drop my faith mask for me to use just in the nick of time. And He will for you too- as long as you draw breath, and beyond. You are anchored. You are loved. God has made a way for you to breathe again.

The Doctor Is In

This past week, strep throat invited itself over to the Martin house. The last time it did, it was the spring time, and I was reminded how awful it is! My oldest was the first to catch it, and my youngest and I were beginning to show signs of strep too. We headed over to the doctor's office to find out the truth.

The sweet woman at the reception desk asked me to update my info, and when I told her why we were visiting, her facial expression immediately changed into an apologizing type of countenance. "I'm sorry," she said, "You're going to have to wear these masks in the waiting room."With a blank stare, I said, "OK," and took the masks she offered. 

I sat down with my little girl, and I placed the mask over her mouth and nose. Then I did the same for myself. I can't describe the feeling I had as I sat there across from the magazines, the TV, and the Christmas tree that was still up. Wearing that little mask, I felt humiliation, rejection, and yes, even shame. Who knew a little fabric with elastics on the sides could make me feel like that? The story ends well enough; my daughter ended up testing positive and was quickly treated with antibiotics, and I had somehow dodged the strep bullet. But I never forgot how I felt in that mask.

We all have things in our lives that act like that mask, don't we? Maybe 2014 was the year that you were served divorce papers, or the year you were caught doing something less than noble. Maybe 2014 was the year your family cut you off, or perhaps you experienced a betrayal. What is that thing that makes you feel shame? What is that scarlet letter that has been stitched onto your heart that weighs you down? Because the "ick" that you feel leads surprisingly to hope. Yes, in 2015, hope is dawning for all of us who wear humiliation, rejection and shame.

There's a part of the story that I left out. The only person who I took my mask off for was the Doctor. He asked me to take off my mask so he could perform a throat culture to diagnose my sickness. He knew just what he was doing, and there was no way he could tell if I was sick or not without me removing the mask. And friends, one of Jesus' names in the Bible is the Great Physician. He knows just what's ailing us, and came as the antidote to the sin-sickness we face here on earth. Listen to the words of Jesus:

"Healthy people don't need a doctor- sick people do. I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners." Mark 2:17b NLT

Our Great Physician is calling all mask wearers; He is longing to heal our sin-sick hearts, and when He wore our sin and shame on the cross, it meant one thing: we don't have to anymore. We don't have to be afraid to limp into His presence. Unlike that Doctor who treated me, Jesus doesn't need to perform tests to figure me out. He knows me inside and out. And He knows you too. We don't experience humiliation with Jesus: only healing. We are never rejected by Jesus: only accepted. We are never shamed by Jesus: only honored. Lift your fingers- don't worry if they're shaking- and pull the mask off your face. Jesus is waiting to remove that which has stripped you of your dignity; and in its place, He will give you complete and utter acceptance. He's the only Doctor who paid the highest price for the health of your soul.

So as we begin the year, I pray that your heart be made new again. As you sit at your smart phone, or your computer reading this,  I pray that you become tired of the old shame, and yearn to be given back your dignity. I pray that what the enemy meant for evil, that God will use for good. And I pray that you would feel courage rising in your spirit to drop your mask for your Maker, be healed, and live life to the full. Because my dear friend, that is JUST what the Doctor ordered.

Be healed and whole in His presence,

Charisa