“Paul, called by the will of God, to be an apostle of Christ Jesus” 1 Cor. 1:1
reading tonight, and listening to a teaching, and thinking of how Paul was called to be an apostle, and how as Christians we are called to a purpose for the glory of God – this strikes us.
this week on vacation, we don’t have a caregiver with us and we don’t have murphy brothers with us who know just how to care for ian. and while it can be tiring, taking care of ian is what fills me, and teaches me, and humbles me and moves me toward heaven. when i have days with just ian, i am completed much differently than days at my office.
tonight as we read with the rain falling on the leaves outside, and as we draw nearer to our book really happening, and as we look at requests for speaking, our purposes become a little bit clearer.
this marriage, this hard and magnificent marriage, is to what we are called.
ian murphy, called to be a disabled husband, for the glory of God.
larissa murphy, called to be a wife, for the glory of God.
“you shouldn’t have said that today, maybe that sounded harsh, you’re assuming a heart motive, that’s not believing the best of that person, you’re angry again, you’re inpatient again,” the voices in my heart and in my head drone on all day.
eventually my body sits to write – to be the means of a story God has written that has nothing to do with myself.
a calendar with dates for talking to people in public, at retreats, conferences – who am i to have this place?
my sins rattle throughout my brain all day and tell me that this is fraud.
that this experience, this public story we’re telling, is not worthy of being told by me. that my sin somehow cancels out anything God would do through us.
that this husband, so sweet and foundational should have more than this sinning wife.
“the Lord your God is in your midst; a might one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you by his love; he will exalt over you with loud singing.” – zephaniah 3:17
my God still rejoices over me. he will quiet me.
so humbly and dependently we make our way.
“Who, oh Lord, could save themselves, Their own soul could heal? Our shame was deeper than the sea Your grace is deeper still”
Desiring God ministries, the group that released this video of us earlier this spring, just released the top 25 of their blog posts for 2012, based on readership. at the top of the list was one of ours, and was viewed more than any other post.
and as we sit here, listening to a christmas album on vinyl, looking at the posters of notes for our book taped all along our wall, we wonder what God is up to. it doesn’t make sense that so many people would be drawn to our story. in our newly re-arranged suite, the hours and days and months coming up are unknown. the work that God is creating in our families is unknown. but if it’s anything like 2012, it’s going to be surprising.
i need a place to hide, to bury myself into rest and into the love that was bought for me. far too human to love as deeply in return as i have been given, i weakly thrust myself onto love that came down, love that rescued me and rescued my husband.
~ love came down and rescued me….i am forever yours ~
this weekend was for being away and for being out of reach of cell phone signals – a place where refreshment comes easily. we arrived to a lake house full of family and woke saturday to more babies and aunts and pancakes and eggs.
God is a god of gifts and rest, both of which He gave to us abundantly this weekend. because in the mountains, even a day of painting cabin bunks and canvases means an escape.
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she came to visit us, our life photographer, on a warm summer day to take photos to be on the inside flap of a book that was being scripted each evening after dinner.
that day was the first time he could do this,
stand next to me, with just my hand helping him, not with my arm around him, like we needed to in all of the photos from this day
where my arm was hidden around his back, helping him, balancing him, and we couldn’t stand and simply hold hands.
this summer came to ian in strength, upgrading to a walker, and then a cane and committing to walking by year 30. he left the house without a wheelchair for the first time and he walked out the front doors of his mom’s house for the first time.
2013 was a big year.
yet, on a day that becomes reflective for so many of us, that’s not what i most see.
what i most see is a hard-fought year, with fears and exposure and costs and crying and days sitting in front of a blank computer screen wondering why we signed a contract- that were all swallowed up by what was following us. by what was behind us and before us.
it was a year swallowed up in God.
it was a year that He swallowed us up, taking our inadequacies that were asked to put our story into 75,000 words, our legs that were asked to learn to walk again, our hearts that at times wanted out.
He followed us with mercy, and made our hopeless mornings and our sweet, quiet date nights and our laughter at his inappropriate jokes into beautiful life canvases.
He followed us with His goodness, keeping us, with his white-knuckle grip.
He blessed us, with two new nieces and nephews, bring number seven and eight into our hearts that four years ago didn’t know that type of love.
He kept us, in each other, faithful and honorable to our covenant.
And all that we were given in Him will continue to be, so that this coming year that looms with exposure as our feebly written pages will be carried home in shopping bags and delivered with the mailman won’t be faced apart from mercy. Or Himself. Or joy, in the most unexpected places.
He will follow us, and someday, someday hopefully soon, we will dwell in His house, forever.
