It was late Monday night, I sat at the edge of the bed to sing praises to the Lord and worship. After a few songs, I knew the Lord has ushered in a new day, and it was already the day of my birth. I began to sing spontaneously, singing that which my heart wanted to cry out. It wanted to shout to the Lord its deep gratitude for His mercies that endure.
When the need for God is deeper and more urgent – like the next heartbeat perhaps – and His mercies and rescue come like a gentle rain — gratitude is more profound.
So I lift up my whole being towards Him, trying my best to express my gratitude for all He’s done in my life, if that were possible. But truly, there are no words or songs enough to convey this.
I thank Him for my life and for the countless times that He has come to my rescue. He has never failed me. And during seasons of celebrations, I still strain to remember the times of great need. This helps me maintain a posture of being bent down low and stay in the path of humility and thanksgiving.
It was early 2005, my body was busy dying, but my spirit was busy believing, trusting, and hoping. When I rested from reading the Bible or listening to Bible Studies on tape, I counted the flowers on the wallpaper of my daughter’s room where I spent that first quarter. Or I would watch through the window the townhouse being built in front of our house, how each rivet was driven into the corrugated roof. Counting flowers on the wallpaper – one can’t avoid it when one is bound in bed like I was.
Later on, I found inspiration and enough strength to color children’s coloring books. I wanted to pass the time more enjoyably and my fingers were ready for the exercise.
Years later when I was already basking in God’s healing grace, I wanted to do something which would celebrate God’s mercy and goodness in my life. I wanted to make use of my regained strength which would make me remember constantly how God has raised me up from my sick bed. That was the time I wanted to prepare special snacks and meals for the family. And the table of thanksgiving was set up. It is now a fast becoming tradition of our family.
The weak hands and fingers that couldn’t be used to put food into my mouth and were later on exercised by making strokes of the crayons on the pages of a coloring book, are now the hands that knead dough to make bread or stir a batter or temper egg yolks to make a custard or scoop ice cream that I have made. The family gathers around the table and I don’t fail to think about the goodness and faithfulness of God. Every bread that I make and put on the table makes me think of Him who held the bread, broke it, and offered it for the life of the world. He is the living bread.
“I am the living bread which came down from heaven. If anyone eats of this bread, he will live forever; and the bread that I shall give is My flesh, which I shall give for the life of the world.” (John 6:51)
Faith has triumphed over flesh. The body that was bound in bed now lives a fulfilling life, a life the Lord has purposed when He called me to walk in His presence.
He is calling us to have a life in Him – a life redeemed, healed, and made whole by Him. Friend, are you in the dark and don’t know what to do and where to go? Jesus is calling. It is all possible for Him.
Know the keys of salvation here.
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Journey with Jesus,