Stephanie Rische

Blogger and Writer: Capturing Stories of God's Grace

In the Middle of a Miracle

miracle

As one year comes to a close and another one begins, I always try to rewind the year and play it back as a highlight reel. It never ceases to amaze me how many significant things happened that barely registered while I was going through them.

As I’m watching my mental video, I find myself thinking, Oh yeah, we made it through that big scary thing! Or Wow, God totally answered that prayer!

The thing about miracles is that God doesn’t always perform them all at once. Yes, sometimes he snaps his fingers and—poof! Instant miracle. But more often I’ve found that his miracles tend to unfold in stages. And when you’re in the middle of one of these slow-cooked miracles, sometimes it feels more like confusion or hard work . . . or even terror. You don’t even realize you’re in the midst of something amazing. It’s not until afterward that you can look back and see where God has taken you.

I wonder if that’s how the Israelites felt when they crossed the Red Sea. They were in the middle of one of the biggest miracles in history, but when they were halfway across, with the sea walls looming on either side and the Egyptian soldiers breathing down their necks, it must not have felt like a miracle. I’d wager they were more riddled with fear than wonder at that point.

But when they took that final step onto dry land and the sea closed behind them on the Egyptian army, that’s when they looked back. That’s when they saw the miracle. And their response? They sang and danced for joy.

When the people of Israel saw the mighty power that the Lord had unleashed against the Egyptians, they were filled with awe before him. . . . Moses and the people of Israel sang this song to the Lord. . . . Then Miriam the prophet, Aaron’s sister, took a tambourine and led all the women as they played their tambourines and danced.
Exodus 14:31; 15:1, 20

As 2015 begins, I invite you to look back with me on the past year. What has God done in your life—in you—this past year? Look back and sing. Look back and dance.

And as a new year unfolds, look forward to the wonder. Look forward to the miracle.

Because what you’re facing now, even today—this could be your Red Sea. This could be your very own miracle. Don’t forget what he’s done in the past, and don’t doubt that he can do it again.

The Floodwaters Are Up to My Neck

A state of emergency was declared for my area last week after what can only be described as biblical levels of flooding. The wise among us sought higher ground; the wiser stayed home to bail out basements; the wisest started constructing an ark.

And me? I went to work.

You’d think I would have turned back when I saw all the cars stalled on the side of the road or when I encountered puddles the size of Lake Michigan. But no, I was determined to get to the office, even if it meant I’d have to swim there.

 flood1

When I finally arrived, after countless detours and some heroic efforts on the part of my little car, I was dismayed to find the parking lot impassable. That would have been another prime opportunity to turn back, but I doggedly pressed on. After parking on an elevated side street, I grabbed my coffee and umbrella and traipsed through the wet slop in my heels.

Everything was going swimmingly, so to speak, until I got to the raging river I had to cross to make it to the entrance. I did my best to calculate the jump but failed to take into account the fact that the ground was roughly the consistency of maple syrup. As soon as I hit the other side, I heard it before I felt it: slurp! Sure enough, my entire foot, heel and all, had been sucked underground. I tried to steady myself, and slurp!—the other foot surrendered to the mud.

I finally got inside, tights dripping and shoes full of sludge. How was I going to make it through the day with sopping feet? That’s when my stroke of genius hit: The hand dryer! After twenty minutes of standing in the restroom on alternating feet, my shoes finally stopped making gurgling noises each time I took a step.

Then, just as I exited the restroom, I heard the announcement: “Our office will be closed today. Please leave now to ensure you will be able to get your car out.”

And so it was time to turn around and cross the temporary creek again.

I found the whole escapade entertaining since the damage for me was limited to my pride and a pair of tights. But as I started getting calls from friends and family and hearing news reports about the wreckage people had sustained, the gravity of the situation began to sink in.

flood2

And so it is with the personal floods we face—the loss of a job, the severing of a relationship, the chokehold of grief, the dailyness of life. The floodwaters creep higher and higher, and we feel certain they’re going to pull us under. And even worse, God seems to stand far off in the distance, sending no rescue boat our way.

The psalmist David knew firsthand how lonely that drowning sensation can feel. Here’s the prayer he offered in the midst of his own flood:

Save me, O God,

for the floodwaters are up to my neck.

Deeper and deeper I sink into the mire;

I can’t find a foothold.

I am in deep water,

and the floods overwhelm me. . . .

Rescue me from the mud;

don’t let me sink any deeper!

Save me from those who hate me,

and pull me from these deep waters.

Don’t let the floods overwhelm me,

or the deep waters swallow me.

—Psalm 69:1-2, 15

 flood3

Even if our floodwaters recede and the immediate crisis passes, it’s not over. There’s still the muddy aftermath to deal with—bailing out the basement, evaluating the damage, determining if anything can be salvaged, beginning the tedious cleanup process.

Sometimes it just feels like too much.

In those post-flood moments, we have a choice.

Will we give up and sink into the mire?

Or will trust that God will rescue us, even when no rescue is in sight?

Answer my prayers, O Lord,

for your unfailing love is wonderful.

Take care of me,

for your mercy is so plentiful.

—Psalm 69:16

If you find the floodwaters swirling around your neck today, take heart. God will take care of you; he will show you his unfailing love. And when you are stuck in the basement of life, dealing with the flood’s messy aftermath, may you discover his mercy among the ruins.

 

A Year of Stubbing My Toe on Grace

I realize that a new year is little more than an arbitrary flip of the calendar, a changing of digits we have to recalibrate to each January. But even if it’s just a psychological prop, I still get a bit of a rush as one year comes to a close and a new one gleams, fresh and untarnished, on the horizon.

On this last day of 2012, I find it hard to believe I’m wrapping up my year of reading the Bible chronologically and posting my musings about it. I’d like to thank you, my readers, for putting up with my ramblings, for encouraging me with your comments, for calling out places where you felt I missed the mark. I appreciate each of you more than I can say.

As a way to recap this past year of “Stubbing My Toe on Grace,” I thought I’d share with you the most priceless gift I received this Christmas. My husband, artist that he is, made a beautiful handcrafted book for me with the top 10 posts from the past year. (Obviously, I cried.)

Here they are, in chronological order:

10. The Burden of Love

9. Grandma’s Prayer

8. God’s Tear Jar

7. On His Hand

6. Once Upon a Time, I Wore a Pretty White Dress

5. On Priests and Awkward Moments

4. A Letter to My 25-Year-Old Self

3. Like Amish Peanut Butter

2. Dumpster Diving

1. What My Two Favorite Toddlers Taught Me about Faith

On this day that marks both endings and beginnings, it seems fitting that today’s reading includes these words from Christ:

Look, I am making everything new! . . . I am the Alpha and the Omega—the Beginning and the End.

—Revelation 21:5-6

As we look back on the year just behind us, we have the assurance that God was the God of everything that transpired in the past 365 days. And on the precipice of a new year, we have the assurance that he is the also the God over all the unknowns that await us in the year ahead.

Whatever your year has held—and whatever life has in store for you in the year to come—may you rest in the arms of the One who is both the Beginning and the End.

December 2012 009