Do You Hear What I Hear?
Isaiah 1:18 "Come now, let us settle the matter," says the Lord. "Though your
sins are like scarlet, they shall be as white as snow; though they are red as
crimson, they shall be like wool." (NIV)
When my husband and I were college students, we needed a chesterfield. There was
a bargain on sale in Eaton's in Montreal, and the price was good, so we took it.
It was a miserable pale brown colour, and I always deplored the look of the
thing sitting in my living room. I hated it and always wanted to get rid of it.
Instead of being thankful that the Lord had provided us with a chesterfield at a
great price, I was full of pride and thought that I deserved better. After my
husband's graduation, we moved from Montreal to a small village in Nova Scotia,
and even then, each time I walked into my living room, I would harp about the
chesterfield and threaten to throw it out some day.
One morning, our little boy, who always had regular health problems, woke quite
ill with a high temperature and swollen joints and glands. We were told that he
probably had arthritis, and he was placed on a drug to help relieve his
symptoms. The medication seemed to help, for which we were thankful, but later
on in the fall, once again, he became unwell and was admitted to our local
hospital. One morning, his doctor met me in the hall and told me how sorry he
was, but he felt it necessary to transfer our son to Halifax, fearing our little
boy had leukemia.
Our hearts were broken on that cold December morning, when, leaving our other
two dear little children behind, we drove over the mountains, with our precious
son wrapped up warmly, sitting with me in the back seat. He was very sick and
tired, and imagined he was playing hockey in the back yard, and asked me, "Mom,
do you hear the kids playing? Mom, do you hear what I hear?" My heart stood
still. I felt that it was God's angels he could hear, and they were coming to
take him from us.
After spending three weeks at the hospital with tests and more tests, it was
finally decided that our dear little boy did not have leukemia but rather a
reaction to the drug that had been prescribed to help him for the possible
arthritis. They discontinued the drug and allowed us to go home for Christmas.
It was the morning of Christmas Eve, and when I walked into my living room from
the hospital with my little boy, the tree had been put up, to surprise us. There
under the window sat the chesterfield -- the chesterfield that I had hated with
a passion. But today, my chesterfield looked wonderful, great, fantastic! God
had not only spared me my son to return home with me, but He had also taught me,
at the young age of 32, a great lesson: that material things are not important.
What are more important in life are the gifts of life, love, peace, and the
everlasting assurance that He provides for us. That night when we had our
devotions, we realized as a family how much our Lord loved us when He was
willing to give His very own Son and then watch Him die on Calvary on our
behalf. His heart must also have been broken, just as mine was when I had stood
at the foot of our little boy's bed, not knowing if we would bring him home
alive. Yet once again, we had been touched by His love and carried through the
watery waves to a beach of safety. He is a wonderful Lord; I know, for He has
rescued me over and over.
Do you hear what I hear? I hear God saying, Repent of your sins; give your life
to Me, and I will restore you and make you well. I will wash you whiter than
snow, claim you as My very own child, and teach you what the important things in
life really are.
Prayer: Heavenly Father, You are a Lord of compassion and love, allowing us to
endure trials and tribulations, but never leaving or forsaking us. We thank You
for the guidance You so kindly provide, and ask that as a people, we will hear
Your beckoning call, repent, and serve You as Lord and King. Amen.
Azalia Matheson stapmath@eastlink.ca
Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island, Canada
Thanks to http://daily.presbycan.ca