Blessed Hope

If you need hope today where it feels hopeless may I tell you a story? I have a masters degree in Speech-Language Pathology and my second, and favorite job ever was on the rehab floor of a large hospital. I worked with patients who had a variety of ailments from strokes to brain tumors and total or partial loss of their tongue due to cancer. It was something new every day, and it was such a pleasure to be a witness to some remarkable recoveries and a sacred honor to hold the hand of some as they passed on to glory.

There is not a case that will forever stand out to me like that of a sixteen-year-old boy. He flipped his truck and was thrown from the automobile. After weeks in the ICU, he was moved to our floor. All medical indicators proved he was a vegetable. There was no brain activity and no evidence of hope as he lay lifeless and completely unresponsive. The doctors told his family his condition would never improve. They encouraged them to take him off all life-sustaining measures, but the family was resolute in holding steadfast to an unwavering belief.

I along with occupational and physical therapy was called in to work with him on a daily basis. This would be my most significant challenge. Graduate school taught me a lot of things but working with an entirely lifeless person, especially one so young was not one of them. I was at a loss.

This was in the mid-1990’s, and for those of you who remember, the songs YMCA and Young Man by The Village People were all the rage. What was a green and clueless SLP to do, why to sing along to fun music and dance of course? Daily I would use pungent scents to try and elicit a response, move his limbs and so on all while playing and singing those two songs at decibels that I am confident were unhealthy.

Weeks went by, and there was no change. I did not expect him ever to gain any level of awareness much less normalcy. Then one day I was in his room with one of the nursing aides. She was taking his vitals, and she dropped something to which she loudly exclaimed, “shit!” At that moment I witnessed a miracle. The “brain-dead,” teenage patient laughed! As you can imagine, when we reported this there was a flurry of activity in and out of his room. The doctors were dumbfounded. Right there on that fifty-bed rehab floor, a miracle had taken place.

The next time I was able to work with my miracle patient, he still had many limitations including his speech, but when I went in and greeted him that morning, through a very strained, slow and slurred voice his words to me were, Y-Y-Y, M-M-M, C-C-C, A-A-A. It was incredible. I asked him if he could hear me all along and he indicated that he could, he just was not able to respond.

This young man was soon after transferred to a facility closer to his home as he lived a state over to the east. The last report I heard on him many months later was that he was speaking some as well as using an assistive device to augment his communication skills. He was receiving aquatic therapy, and it was looking promising that one day he would walk again, even if in a modified form.

I don’t know where or how he is today, but I do know I experienced first-hand that miracles do happen. I learned that doctors and textbooks are not always right and the resolve of a family determined not to give up despite the odds sometimes wins.

Friend, I do not know what dirt road you are walking today, but if you need a fresh dose of faith, I hope you will take it from this story. Miracles still happen in this life, but if not, we still have what the Bible calls a “blessed hope” in Titus 2:13. That blessed hope is Jesus and His gift of eternal life for all those who have accepted His gift of grace and eternity in Heaven. If you are unsure if that is you, or you know that is not you but you want to be an heir of blessed hope, please find a friend to talk to who can lead you into a beautiful inheritance as a son or daughter of the King. As always, you may contact me, too. dannalundstrom@yahoo.com

You are loved today.♥️

What Am I Fixing?

I grew up in a small Texas town. My accent was as thick as concrete, and I had a whole lingo understood only by those indigenous to The Big Thicket area of The Lone Star State.

When I left home and went to Baylor University, the big city, I had to in some ways learn the English language, and my friends had to learn mine, whatever it was. As a matter of fact, I was affectionately called, ”Reba” in the school of Speech Pathology and Audiology and it was NOT because I could sing! One term I used frequently and was made fun of for was fixing, but this was not fixing in the sense of I am fixing the car or fixing the clock. It was, I am fixing to go to the store. I am fixing to eat dinner. You get it, right?

I have been thinking a lot lately about what I am fixing. What am I fixing up in my life? My home? My appearance? My reputation? My people? I spend so much time “fixing” the things of this world, yet my heart longs for eternity. How much time am I spending preparing myself and my sphere of influence for our final destination?

What I have realized is “fixing” up things can become addictive and insidiously serve as band-aids that are concealing deep wounds.

As long as we are breathing there will always be something to fix. Right now I have a list of at least ten things, I am sure. But all these things are but dust in the scope of eternity so why do I spend so much futile energy there?

When my vision is focused horizontally, and I am often out of focus, I can too quickly get caught up in all the tasks I see that “need” to be completed. I do have responsibilities, and I am not suggesting neglecting them. But eternity. That is where I want to place the weight of my attention.

As we said in that tiny little Southeast Texas town, I am fixing to go. Well, friends, someday soon I am fixing to go to Heaven, and when the roll is called up yonder, I intend to be there, and no amount of fixing down here is going with me. I hope to see you there!

It Is Finished.

During Holy Week I like to reflect on the ways I have been knowingly or unknowingly living out of the darkness of the crucifixion rather than the light of the resurrection.

It helps me to make a list.

What would be some things on your list? Fear? Guilt? Perfectionism? Control?Comparison? Condemnation? Working hard to earn approval? They are on mine.

A question I have been pondering is, am I living out of Jesus’ work, It Is Finished or mine, I am finishing it?

It is so easy for me to unconsciously live from a position of unbelief that says it is Jesus plus D’Anna’s work. But that is not the gospel.  The gospel is only Jesus. When I remember that, I am lighter, freedom and joy are actualities not abstractions, and my center becomes calibrated not chaotic.

I am prone to wander, though, prone to forget.  The Good Shepherd knows this of me, however, and continues loving me, pursuing me and carrying me back to His flock anyway.

Friend, I do not know what ways crucifixion living has you in bondage, but I know mine. The good news is we do not have to stay stuck there.  The tomb was empty.  There was a resurrection, and it was to ransom, heal, redeem, forgive and secure eternal life for us.

Our Savior’s great sacrifice was a one time deal.  Just before yielding His spirit on the cross Jesus said, “it is finished.” (John 19:30)  Done. Completed.  Past tense.

I have learned it is one thing to understand that truth in my head, and a whole other thing to stand under it with my heart. I pray we are all living in the light of that truth? It is part of our great inheritance.

What If You Get It Wrong?

Recently, I was struggling with an important decision. It was tearing me apart as I was allowing the lies of the enemy to compromise what I know to be true.  I was lamenting to a trusted and wise friend that my fear was I would get it wrong.  My friend said to me, “D’Anna, what if you do get it wrong?”  It was then that I remembered that Jesus’ gift of salvation does not come with a qualifier that I get it all right.  If my performance was a qualification, that would mean I have some responsibility for my salvation and in my eyes, I would never be enough.  How exhausting that would be!

Thankfully, I can take no credit for my eternal destiny.  Any good work I do is as a result of the Holy Spirit’s presence, not my power.  I cannot even take credit for faith, for it is from God, as well. (Ephesians 2:8).

Are you wrestling with getting something wrong today?  Has the idea of not being perfect or falling short thrown a dark disguise over the veil of truth that is meant to set you free? (John 8:32).  I pray if you find yourself here, you take the hand of truth today.

Father, I repent of the times I fail to believe. Help me and my friend remember that you and your promises are the same yesterday, today and forever. (Hebrews 13:8) AMEN.

Maybe

Maybe it is the pervasiveness of pain and suffering.

Maybe it is the outflow of a heart overwhelmed by the burdens before me.

Or maybe it is the fresh awakening of the sacred charge branded in the depths where the Holy hides His instructions.

Whatever the explanation, I feel an urgency today for wandering hearts that are beating in the shadows of uncertainty.

If that is you, friend, I would love the privilege to pray for you. We are all on a journey heading somewhere.

I want you to be certain of your destination.

Feel free to private message me anytime.

You are loved.❤️

Opportunities to Repent

The older I get, the more opportunities I see where I need to repent.  I thought it would be the other way around but not so for me.  I am choosing to think of it as the sharper my “spiritual vision” becomes the clearer I see the junk that is there.  In light of that, I guess it is a positive thing.

Isiah 30:15~In repentance and rest is my salvation.

Our Scars Are Beautiful Stories

I have a scar on the left side of my chest where there once was a central line that nourished me when I was too sick to eat. I have a scar in my upper right rib area that reminds me of a chest tube that once supported my collapsed lung from a procedure gone wrong. Both blemishes were the product of one pregnancy. I see those two scars every day, and for many years they were unattractive to me. Over the years, I have learned that grief has been replaced with gratitude when I notice my marks. Those blemishes are symbolic of life. My scars are the testimony of a broken story with a beautiful ending. If it were not for them, I would not have my daughter.
I was reminiscing through the memories of my scar journey this morning, and I saw a vivid image of Jesus on the cross. There he was in my picture, nailed by evil and dawning contusions that the world would deem unattractive; then this thought crossed my mind, Jesus’ scars also represent life. I am confident that He embraces His, too, because if it were not for them, He also would not have His daughter.

ONE

For life travelers longing for an analgesic to satiate the ache that feels as if it were born and branded into every beating heart, we search and scurry for a cure as if that longing is something to be erased and replaced with happiness when all along it is an immutable hunger for Home.
Friend, I know it is tempting to numb. The food, the television, the drink, the romance novel, the internet, the busy schedule, they all eventually fail us. There is not one possession or person under the sun that will complete us.

John Calvin said the human heart is a factory of idols. I will add to his observation that mine is no exception. Idols are the thieves of my soul, robbing me of peace and joy. They are dressed up impostures that pursue me, promising pleasure but ultimately never delivering the pacification they purport. They have an inferior half-life that leaves all partakers thirsty and longing for more.

I was sitting on my counselor’s couch Tuesday and as I was talking to her, staring out her big window in the sky, my words were interrupted. As it sometimes happens a memo from semmingly no where comes as if it is being spoken in my head. That day the message was, when you are only concerned with One none of the other stuff matters.

Too often that one I am concerned about is me instead of Jesus. When my eyes, ears, and mind are fixed on Him, I do not need to numb. I do not need to find satisfaction in secular things. But surrounded by my desirous heart for God is a deceptive flesh for gratification; and this is why I need Jesus every moment of every day.

Jesus secures me when I am splintered. He welcomes me when I am weak. He “feeds” me when I am famished. He lifts me when I am low; and Jesus desires me when I am disappointing.
If you have received the gift of God’s only son, you can replace every me in the sentences above with your name. Isn’t that a breath of fresh air! If you have not received His gift, right now is always the right time to make the right decision.

You are loved, friend!

In Rememberance We Find Rest

img_06891.pngJesus’ last three words before giving up His Spirit on the cross were, it is finished.  As believers, those are three of the most significant words that are so easy to forget. I often find myself losing sight of that truth, and I end up in a position of Jesus plus me or Jesus plus something else equals fulfillment.  My failure to remember that Jesus completed everything for me on the cross only leads me down a path of trying harder, idolatry, guilt, self-condemnation and ultimately shame and exhaustion.

It can be hard to believe and thus accept that it is just that easy; someone who owes me nothing died to make me right before God and to provided eternal life.   It feels much more natural to want to work off my debt.

There is something oddly comforting about pulling the products my sins, (guilt, shame, self-condemnation, self-pity), back down off the cross and wearing them like a warm, comforting coat on a blustery day. 

Continuing to feel guilty, shamed or condemned is an illusive form of self-righteousness.  Ouch!  It suggests Jesus isn’t enough and I need to help Him secure my salvation.

Isaiah 30:15 says in repentance and rest is my salvation.  That is good news for you and me.  When I go to The Father in repentance, I must not only repent for what I did but also what I failed to believe that led me astray.  Like the prodigal father, Jesus is always scanning the horizon to run to us with open arms and a forgiving heart.

It is finished, friends! 

I pray you remember to live from that, and when you forget like I sometimes do, turn back to your Father and rest in His grace!