Slightly Obsessed #092 "The Author of Life" (Wednesday Devo) by Pamela Thorson on 2014-11-19 10:11:28
“You killed the author of life, but God raised him from the dead. We are witnesses of this.” - Acts 3:15
The call came one evening while we were at work. We rushed to the nursing home and found her in her room. Her eyes were open but fixed on some spot beyond us. Her brow was furrowed in an anxious frown. The skin on her legs was mottled. That told me her organs were shutting down.
The nurse said her heartbeat was still strong. With my mother, it could be no other way.
She loved life, and she fought hard for it to the end, through a series of strokes that took a devastating toll on her body. She had battled for five long years against the increasing disability and pain.
Now, through the night, her body began its journey home, ravaged beyond man’s ability to bring her back. Someone brought us chairs and stale coffee for the vigil. We softly sang her favorite hymns around her bed. We read her favorite Bible verses to her, the ones that had directed her and comforted her and given her hope through the years. We held her hand, stroked her clammy forehead, prayed together, and told her that she would soon see the face of the Lord she loved so much.
It was mid-morning when her breathing became erratic. Not in a frantic way, but gently, reluctantly, the sighs of someone who needs to leave but doesn’t want to say goodbye. Then, as we huddled around her in a gray room under a gray May sky, she left us.
We grieved our loss. We rejoiced that she had been united with the Author of Life.
It was the day I saw firsthand that life doesn’t end. It returns to the God who gave it.
God isn’t just a benefactor who cares for us on our trip through this realm. He created the processes that maintain life. He gives us every breath. It is His infinite knowledge and imagination that painted the world we live in.
He wrote the book on life.
On that awful day outside Jerusalem when Jesus allowed His creation to kill Him, He was writing a new chapter for us. His death ushered in an alternate ending for every person who has walked this earth. We don’t have to live in hopelessness. We are not defeated, after all, if we choose life.
Because of His sacrifice and resurrection, that night in the nursing home wasn’t the end for my beloved mom. It was a change of address, a move into the presence of the one who made her, loved her, and promised that those who love Him will never die.
About Pamela Thorson:
Pamela Thorson is a licensed practical nurse, author, and full-time caregiver. She pioneered in the homeschooling movement from 1982-2006 and authored her first book, Song in the Night, in 2008. She resides in the Northwest with her family.
Slightly Obsessed #192: Heaven Is Calling: Consider Jesus
Some days we can barely hear it. Other days it drives us to our knees. But it’s always there; that persistent tug in our souls. Whether we trudge through our days or chase the stars of fame and fortune, we can’t drown out the cry that sounds silently in the pit of our being, jarring us with its urgency and moving us with its tears.
No matter what you may be going through in life, I want you to know that God's grace is sufficient for you. You may have messed up, you may have failed, you may have gone the wrong direction, you may have gossiped, or much worse, but God wants you to know that it does not define who you are. He does. He and His grace is much more powerful than anything you might have said or done. Grace always shocks. It always amazes, and it always stuns. Grace is what we all need. It's what everyone groping around lost in the darkness needs to know.
Slightly Obsessed #191: You Can Give Others the Gift of Courage
My father lay propped up in the hospital bed, his face ashen against the white sheets. My step-mother and I huddled around him in the cramped space of the progressive care unit in which he was recuperating. He had suffered three heart attacks in the space of one month. None of us had gotten much sleep in the last few days. So far, we had seen little of either the hospitalist in charge of his care or the cardiologist on staff.
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On a recent hot July day, we took in an air show in our town. Vintage planes, including a couple of impressive old warbirds, sat majestically on the tarmac for inspection as we darted from wing to wing to find relief from the withering heat.
These planes are still operable, so although some of them were open for people to walk through, the cockpits were off-limits for obvious reasons. No one wanted a tragedy to happen because an unauthorized person tampered with the controls. People who don’t know what they’re doing shouldn’t be in control.
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He was shouting “Freedom” as he plowed his car at twenty-one miles an hour into the granite monument engraved with the Ten Commandments.
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