To Mark Where God Has Spoken

“…I will build an altar to the God who answered my prayers when I was in distress. He has been with me wherever I have gone.” (Genesis 35:3b NLT)

Jacob set up a stone pillar to mark the place where God had spoken to him. Then he poured wine over it as an offering to God and anointed the pillar with olive oil. And Jacob named the place Bethel (which means “house of God”), because God had spoken to him there. (Genesis 35:14-15 NLT)

Don’t you realize that your body is the temple of the Holy Spirit, who lives in you and was given to you by God? You do not belong to yourself, for God bought you with a high price. So you must honor God with your body. (1 Corinthians 6:19-20 NLT)

Other words for distress are anxiety, disappointment, perplexity, vexation, and heartbreak. There are more in the thesaurus but these concepts stand out for me as we navigate through the COVID-19 storm. Early in January my daily Bible reading took me to Genesis 35. Knowing the story of Jacob and the challenges he went through, this was my prayer, “So many times, God, we’ve been in distress and we’ve prayed to You and You stayed with us all through our journey, every move, every place we’ve lived. I’m struck by the fact that You ‘went up’ from the place where You spoke to Jacob. Did he see You go, keeping his eyes on You? I want to keep my eyes on You. May my LIFE be like a stone pillar to mark that You have spoken into me.” 

As the weeks go by during quarantine, what kind of stone pillar am I putting in place to honor God? I picture Jacob searching for just the perfect rocks to pile up on top of each other to form his pillar. Maybe some have a sheen and sparkle to them while others have a dull finish but are solid and firm. Will my pillar have rocks that shine out and chunks that give stability? Like the piece of sparkly quartz as I’m standing patiently in line at the grocery store and there’s no toilet paper in stock, or the marble slabs of gratitude for the medical professionals putting their lives on the line. A plain and solid rock goes into place when I act in kindness and with a smile. And how about a big ol’ conglomerate boulder of respect for our government leaders trying to do what’s right to keep us as safe as possible. And let me not forget the foundational granite stone of faith as I trust God when our income source is denied because our business is non-essential. Or will my pillar crumble to gravel under the pick axes of anger, bitterness, blaming and doubt? 

When I remember that it is God Who is my strength and it pleases Him to make me strong (Psalm 89:17 NLT), I’m confident His inscriptions will cover the structure as each stone settles into position. This attitude is free for the embracing; I encourage you to start gathering your stones as you shelter in place. What beautiful monuments we’ll have to mark where God has spoken.

A Much-Needed Prescription

With four children, the oldest age six, the twins age four, and the baby not quite a year old, it was no wonder the mom felt frazzled, and she looked it too. Holding her youngest on her lap while the pediatrician checked the baby’s ears and listened to her heart, the mom allowed herself to relax a little in the chair. A sigh, one of those involuntary sighs that she was famous for, chose that moment to escape. The doctor scooted his wheeled stool across the room to his desk, and picked up his prescription pad. He smiled at the mom. “Baby is doing fine. But I’m going to write a prescription for you, Mom.” He scribbled a few lines and then handed her the slip of paper. She read it over.

“Are you serious?” she said.

“Yes,” was the smiling and emphatic reply.

The prescription read: “One weekend with [your husband] and without children at my vacation cabin on Lummi Island.” 

In the four years that her kids had been under this doctor’s care, she’d seen his kindness, patience, compassion, and gentleness with them, as well as his skill as a physician, but to be the recipient of his generosity and obvious concern for her mental well-being brought tears of gratitude. She felt that the weekend away did much to help her hang onto her sanity. A move to another state shortly after meant a new pediatrician but she always thought of him as the best one her kids ever had.

Thirty-some years later she read on Facebook that a certain Noemi Ban, holocaust survivor, would be giving a lecture at Western Washington University about her experiences. Always interested in knowing more about this, she signed up to attend, along with her sister. She pondered the woman’s last name. It was the same as that of the wonderful pediatrician who cared for her children. Could they be related? 

If you haven’t already guessed, I was that frazzled mom. It was this past week that I went to the lecture. And there was the pediatrician in the front row proudly watching his mother, at the age of 94, talking about having hope and love, instead of hate, even after suffering so dreadfully at Auschwitz. I spoke with Dr. Ban for a few minutes during intermission. I said, “You must be so proud of your mom!” He smiled and admitted he was. I went on to express my gratitude for his care of my children, and of me with such an unusual prescription. He said he recalled that occasion and how my husband had done a little carpentry work for him on the cabin to help defray our medical expenses with him as well. He asked about my kids. Then giving me a hug, he thanked me for connecting with him that evening. 

My sweeties, 1984

Hearing and reading Noemi Ban’s story (Sharing is Healing, a Holocaust Survivor’s Story with Ray Wolpow), I realize that it was she who influenced her son to be the kind and generous man who took a personal interest in his young patients and their parents. She raised her children to love life and to overcome hatred, a much-needed prescription in our world. I know my children were just a few out of the hundreds who were benefitted in part by this one woman. I feel blessed to have heard her say, “Life is for living. I love life!”