Tag: Jubilee Fry

Star Yores: The Turn of the Magi

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Scripture: Matthew 2:1-12 (AMP)

Imagine this.

You’re a renowned scholar of your time, a respected expert in astrological sciences, and in general, a maestro of subject matter.

With a mind geared towards the aerial, your intellect hits new light: A star, one you’ve never seen before far outside your scope. Your natural inclination is to pause and ponder. Could this be a confluence of planets, a comet, perhaps a supernova kissing our celestial cul-de-sac? Or is this an illusion, a unicorn moment too good to be true?

Whatever the case, there are no analogs. Whatever you’ve seen, whatever you’ve heard…for once it’s not good enough. And thus, a fire rages within to crack the mystery. but even more so to discern this urge to do something radical, something crazy.

The fork ever widening, you roll the dice and take the risk. Seeking out this angelic beam, you’re now on a camelback quest with your comrades. Advancing into unchartered territory, you quickly realize this isn’t Kansas anymore and your directions aren’t so simple as second star from the right and straight on ’til morning. Your convenient, carpeted life…now subject to the Euphrates and a Royal Road to true royalty.

Like a pre-disciple, you’ve said goodbye to home, not entirely sure if you’ll return. Risking it all to lay it all down, the gifts you bear are years from delivery but capture the source of your faith.

You’re going west, young man…with words of gratitude close at heart yet from far from optional. For this cryptic star, the one you’ll regard as of David, had once shined on a child in manger lay. The illuminating origin of eternal freedom the same origin as that still small voice compelling you to follow confidently.

But though the trek is long and arduous, despite future uncertainty, you embrace the joy set before you as a constant rising and a call to worship. One way or another, you will complete this crusade and discover a new depth of truth you never thought possible.

A once foreign light illuminating a stable place, now an inspiration for yours to walk from.

Fast-forward to present day and you are where you are. What a ride it’s been…

Unlike many, you may believe you have something to offer outside your realm of expertise, something to contribute outside your wheelhouse of benevolence. You may have that itch inside wanting to pour out in a fresh way – your modern-day equivalent of frankincense or myrrh on standby.

However, like many, you may be waiting for a catalyst to surrender and sacrifice when in reality, the time is now to sojourn into deeper waters, to try a new course. Granted, I can only speak so far into anonymous situations. Yet, I know for me, as one who anticipates burning bushes that never come, I must be ready to render those focuses off-center and recognize the Spirit as “star power” capable of illuminating the way I’m to go.

Which brings me to my point for today: You may feel depleted and broken, perplexed and confused; you may be overwhelmed or overthinking.

Yet, regardless of your circumstances, if your 3:00 am restroom break is on the verge of turning into a brutally early wakeup call, guess what! That same star of wonder, the same star of night…is still alive and well today to guide you into whatever perfect light you need to walk in.

You see…for the magi, they lived for this. Even as they (literally) contemplated their next steps from illumination, the timely cost of multiple years and the emotional cost of social and occupational inconveniences didn’t deter them from making one of the most epic expeditions in the Roman era. Put another way, before the wise men could fathom the historical repercussions of their Messianic voyage, they had to first contest the ramifications of their surrender; hence, why as brilliant as they were, their greatest asset was not their wealth of knowledge and resources, but a corporate humility to recognize eternal prominence.

And in the hustle and bustle of the holidays upon us, that’s why I’m writing this – to implore holy inventory and discourage whatever annual defaults we’ve accepted to justify idleness and self-preservation. I can’t make sense of the pain my family and I feel right now. I can’t make sense of the pain you likewise may feel as we close out the year.

But for all I don’t know, what I do know is basic spiritual probability. Specifically, if my attention isn’t anchored to holy light, then chances are my call to mobility and a humble returning will be compromised.

Yes, I miss Juby, the times life felt more stable, even the opportunities I could have been truer to my faith. Yet, amidst the chaos, I remember that stable place 2,000 years ago and those who released their inhibitions to adore what matters most in all eternity. For all of us, may this truth be the centerpiece of any Christmas stirring as we approach 2023.

Selah.

Cover graphic creds: Wallpaper Cave

There & Back Again: The Gift and Call of Suffering

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So lately, I’ve been building my library, adding books to shelves in a quest to answer a timeless question:

Why do we suffer?

Yet, as I absorb Daniel Carrington and Philip Yancey, I’m curious if we should reconsider the inquiry as, ‘How should we suffer?’

For if suffering is a kingdom, a divine call, and the resilience guide to discovering God, then surely the way we endure merits discussion.

Perhaps you’re like me looking to mature through past and present challenges and hoping to think outward as opposed to inward. Either way, as we near the home stretch of 2022, these are the musings of yours truly…the emotional evolution of one still processing the passing of his youngest.

Sweet Jubilee…oh, how I miss you.

Granted, much has started to calibrate since my last post. The returns to certain norms are imminent. There have even been times I’ve wondered why I’m not more depressed than I am.

But at the core of it all, Lys and I feel like Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo returning to the shire from Mordor. Remember what Frodo said when he returned to Bag End in ‘Return of the King‘?

“How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on…when in your heart you begin to understand…there is no going back? There are some things that time cannot mend…some hurts that go too deep… that have taken hold.”

To me, this begs the question: What then can ‘untake’ that hold? How then should the heart resound, if not through soundless bites that in hardship can be the most beautiful expression of vulnerability?

Answers aside, the line resonates, a heart prick that has compelled me to relish the truth:

The author and perfector of my faith is the same author and perfector of my pain who from the beginning of time ordained it as a means for me to choose Him!

Like any day I’m alive, I’m taking hold of it as one made in His image. Like any hour I’m awake, I’m taking hold of it to press into His likeness. Just because my heart is healing, doesn’t mean I can’t partake in divine remedy, the sweetness of God’s Immanuel presence and the power of His strength piercing the darkness.

When I’m tempted to retreat, I remember the out I have to retreat into Jesus. And from there, I springboard into the dichotomy between the questions above…that the difference between “Why do we suffer” and “How should we suffer”, in purest form, is the asker of the latter knowing he is loved by God and is willing to trust in His purposes. That it is unfathomable love wrapped in mystery orchestrating the narrative of triumph and perspective rising from the depths.

Like Lys and I of late, you may feel like Frodo, called into adventures beyond your understanding, wishing the rings of adversity, be it disappointment or grief, hadn’t come to you. Yet, in those Moria moments, remember that’s when the Spirit finds and refreshes us as Gandalf did to Frodo:

“So do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

Sure, the year of Jubilee may be over but as her name implies, the happy ever afters are only beginning. Accordingly, we celebrate our precious daughter Hebrews 12:1 style, knowing she’s not only part of a great cloud of witnesses but also co-inspiration stirring us to lay aside the weight of anguish clinging closely…

…her voice an echo to the Master urging us to run our race with endurance.

As for you, my friends, whatever your mission is, know to be overwhelmed is only human and often the evidence of doing something right. Why not then fuse some Hebrews 12:1-2 along with some Romans 8:28 and Galatians 6:9 into the questions you’re asking? Why not faint not…knowing God works all things, including our sufferings, for good and makes things new as words trustworthy and true (Revelation 21:5)? You don’t have to bear the weight of deciphering your circumstances. Rather, you can bear each other’s burdens delighting in the fact God has you going somewhere. Even if loss is incurred along the way, remember nothing can separate you from God’s love and the victory He has in store for you.

At the very least, take it from Jubilee. Her life was a gift but even more so her legacy. What keeps her Spirit alive is the same Spirit who in whispers:

  1. Reminds us He’s there because He’s been there and…
  2. Ignites us to see how discovering God through perseverance as the best way to journey through suffering.

In closing, I return to Yancey: “As we rely on God and trust His Spirit to mold us in His image, true hope takes shape within us, ‘a hope that does not disappoint.’ We can literally become better persons because of suffering. Pain, however meaningless it may seem at the time, can be transformed. Where is God when it hurts? He is in us—not in the things that hurt—helping to transform bad into good. We can safely say that God can bring good out of evil; we cannot say that God brings about the evil in hopes of producing good.”

Selah.

Cover photo creds: mckellen.com

Miracle in the Making: The Jubilee Journey (Finale)

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Jubilee’s goodbye letter as shared during 1:10:00-1:17:23 of today’s Celebration of Life live stream: https://youtu.be/xUD-NkRrzvk

Dear Jubilee,

For almost two weeks, I’ve been trying to find the words. There’s so much I want to say but don’t know how. So, I’ll start with the obvious.

I love you. Not more than you know, but as you now know.

Indeed, in this moment, I write to you within the ultimate paradox. Having fought with you for 13 months along with your mom and two of the world’s best NICU medical teams, I was desperate to see you experience fullness, not just of health but of life, love, and whatever joy you could possibly know within your fragile state. Now, look at you, all smitten and sassy, safe in the Father’s arms aware of that fullness in ways I can’t possibly understand. The world’s greatest former micro preemie fighter…at peace with her Creator. His breath is in your lungs as you pour out your praise.

No question, you challenged and changed many hearts from the ones entrusted to your care to ones who barely knew you. From your primaries to prayer partners across the globe, you reminded us how special each day truly is, and how much the present is a gift you can never take for granted. Packed within a year of forced rest, you compelled us to take baby steps into unchartered belief, to ride the waves far out of our depth.

Yet, through it all, we fell in love with His might and light in your fight. Christ in you, Christ in us, we learned how to be content at the end of our rope. how to fall and press into Jesus at the same time, not to mention the technical terms, the bells, and whistles of a brave, new world.

Often, there was much to take in, much beyond our ability to process. And so, we prayed. Every day. Without ceasing…that the same Spirit behind your smile, that fueled your tenacity would be known across the hall, down the aisle, from the parking lot and front desk to each emergency, operating, and visitation room. Every day. A chance to stiff-arm the ‘why’ and embrace the strive-less rhythms of grace. Every day. An opportunity.to gaze into your eyes to find God looking back at us through them.

In a way, you inspired joy in persevering through chaos and crisis. You taught us how being still in weakness is, in fact, strength. And you reminded us how surrender must also rise with hope, how to embrace those mini-Gethsemane moments throughout each day: Not my will but yours be done.

To your mother and I, your sister and brothers, we marvel at the vessel God designed you to be, the way you took in unity, prayer, and love and churned out life upon life on the other side. Granted, your days were numbered less than what we would have hoped. Still, we know in this grand mystery, there is purpose, hope, and freedom within the appointed number of days God called to your earthly tenure.

And so, I stand here with a new appreciation of the question I must ask. For it is not, ‘Why did God let you die’, but rather ‘Why did God let you live?’

Past day 1 when you had no business surviving traumatic labor at 25 weeks. Past day 80, when both your lungs collapsed. Past days 290-340 during which you coded over 15 times.

Why did God let you live?

While your family and I will have many years to discern the answers, for now, I want you to know it is well in my soul God called you to reflect childlike faith, wonder, and helplessness for 393 precious days and it is well in my heart God anointed you to inspire NICU personnel and families towards the loving arms of Jesus, to help them consider what is it that kept you going, kept fighting, and kept defying the darkest of diagnoses.

As for ending this letter, having embarked on this joyful journey like no other, I ask one more question, one I’ll be sharing with many who know and will know your story. And that is, based on the legacy of your life, ‘How is it we must never be the same again?’ To quote your great grandmother whose husband you now know, “you were a diamond loaned to us from God’s ‘stash’, a pure, bright, beautiful solitaire to show us how beautiful heaven must be.” Of course, with your former limitations and restrictions on earth, a celestial, prismatic perspective may seem farfetched. But to me and your family and friends sitting in this room today, the metaphor hits home. Like a unified tribe, we’re all witnesses to how you reflected eternity through epic resilience. From a micro-preemie plagued by chronic lung disease and pulmonary hypertension to one born again into paradise, we celebrate not only your victory and triumph over sickness and death but relish the truth that for thousands of people, your face is now a thumbnail capturing the kind of Romans 5 endurance they want to run the rest of their life with.

Creds to the Master. Tell Him we’re forever grateful for the Year of Jubilee, for having the chance to love and support you as your immediate and extended family. True, there was a lot of pain amidst the patience and perseverance during your short life. But as C.S. Lewis once said, while God whispers to us in our pleasures and speaks in our consciences, He shouts in our pain. For it is pain that insists on being attended to as His megaphone to rouse a deaf world. So, as we say goodbye in this setting, as a community who loves you, we declare the voice you now have via the Almighty as one that will heal the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives, and announce favor and grace to those who mourn. The joy of the Lord as your strength, help prepare the way for the risen Lord.

After all, the season’s changing and God is rebuilding everything. So, we will listen with humble hearts, with gladness and gratitude, to the people shouting, ‘This is Jubilee’.

With sincerest affection and adoration,

Dad

Cover photo by Cameron J. Fry

Miracle in the Making: The Jubilee Journey (Part 8)

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So lately, I’ve been basking in the early Psalms…

…soaking in security metaphors relative to God’s sovereignty.

No question, this journey is wearing me out. Five days to one month to one year. Like the text on Evy’s new ‘Sleeping Beauty’ t-shirt, ‘I can’t even’…

From driving to work without a modicum of ‘I can’t do this today’ to imaging life a year from now, the writing on the wall is a tattoo on the heart: I can’t because I shouldn’t…but I can because He will just as He always has.

For Lys and I, we’ve been overwhelmed by basic math in recent days wondering why Juby has coded seven times in five weeks not to mention a pair of baggings the past five days alone. We wish we had the answers though we’re learning the freedom of anticipating them in our day-to-day interactions. After all, if our faith is to mature, there must be a catalyst, often a challenging one, compelling our perseverance to discover God in a fresh way.

Perhaps this is why we’re often confused and discouraged but also confident and encouraged at the same time. As for any NICU family leaning into God, not relinquishing their hope, there almost has to be an uncomfortable friction between the emotional and spiritual where in between, perpetual paradoxes are broken down.

For instance, when I hold Juby’s hand, I’m reminded as she clings to my finger, so too must my hope, my trust, my devotion also cling to Jesus. Just like Caeden, Evy, and Milo at her age, she squeezes whatever she can get her hands on and doesn’t let go until I pry it loose. Sometimes, I forget how desperate she must feel, wishing the lines running across her body were gone yet oblivious to the fact this isn’t how a first-year body was meant to function.

Obviously, I know where she’s at and what she’s enduring is short-term within the grand scheme. By God’s strength, she will eventually auto-correct through these setbacks be it six months or six years.

Still, I suppose if there’s a head scratch for me, it comes back to what must I do apart from believing God is who He says He is. As this adventure has taught me, God is glorified in our suffering as we hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering and boast of it firmly until the end (Hebrews 10:23; Hebrews 4:14). However, as I’m also finding, this doesn’t exactly simplify the pathway to touching His robe. In my case, while embracing stillness has been a perk to the load-bearing, I’ve also noted it can keep me idle when God is calling me to motion.

It’s like I’m content to contend…to put one foot in front of the other…but struggle to believe I can get to Jesus in my weakness. And so, on my dark days, I stay where I’m at anchoring in worship and His Word though ashamed I didn’t try harder to make that contact. On brighter days, I sense that slow motion surrender though in the wrestling still wonder, ‘Jesus, can you slow down a little? I know you’re up to something amazing but we just need more of you right now.’

Again, I don’t say this to draw empathy. Rather I say this because I’m desperate…not only to see Juby healed while operating free of fear to whatever intimacy is required…but also to know how the Father responds when any part of us, well, codes! Be it a physical code, a sin/stronghold code, a generational and/or word curse code. Who knows…for most of us, it’s probably a combination of things.

As always, time will eventually stir my pen to capture findings to my curiosities, among them why only one ‘how long’ reference in Psalms actually ties to sorrow.

For now, I bid this post and you, my friends, a fond adieu. This man needs rest and a charge to His best.

Tomorrow, we live to see another day. I will pre-rejoice and be glad in it.

Selah.

Miracle in the Making: The Jubilee Journey (Part 3)

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Lately, I’ve been marveling at how the past seven weeks has mirrored the past eighteen months.

On one hand, it’s been the worst of times; on the other, it’s been the “first” of times…

…with every day an exhausting, sometimes unprecedented mix of trial and turbulence.

However, as I’ve continued to study 2 Corinthians 12:7-10, I’ve been captivated by a certain truth, a keen illumination as once eloquently captured by Joe Novenson:

“The feel of faith is not strength, but dependent weakness.”

Mmm…just let that sink in a little.

The feel of faith…a dependent weakness. What a remarkable association. And apologies in case you heard that noise in the background.

That was just a mic drop echoing deep within the bowels of my soul.

For as many of you know, this Jubilee journey has been the epitome of humbling. In all sincerity, words can only go so far as the joyride (Jubilee’s name compels me to call it as such) has left me mesmerized wrestling with the scale of God’s sovereign strength amidst the chaos.

Still, the more Lys and I have endured and persevered, the more we’ve been able to taste God’s providence and assurance. To the extent we’ve anchored our trust, to that extent we’ve been able to mutually rely on God in unison, even harmony.

Again, it’s a unique paradox but one I’m discovering and profoundly grateful for.

‘Cause the way I see it: The specific season we’re in, from Jubilee to Covid caution, is more than one we’re suppose to ‘get through’…but one we’re meant to bear through.

The question is: In our various conflict resolutions and troubleshootings, what are we bearing (or forbearing) along the way?

While I’m still seeking God for solutions, what I can say is sometimes all we can do is stay the course and know God will set our paths straight. Especially in a time when many are forcing restarts, from marriage and relationships to work and church life, we can be prone to manufacturate tranquility. Why we’d rather rush to refresh and blank our slates as opposed to conquering with confidence? Honestly, your guess is as good as mine.

Yet, as I continue to struggle amidst the unrest, I will gladly embrace a holy dependence that isn’t withdrawn like the trends around me. What I’m learning in my walk with God, with Lys, even at Foundation Group, is the sweet reminder the greatest victories are shared and beared. As much as we want to thrive, as much as we crave a new chapter, we can’t possibly ‘get there’ without partnering in weakness with what and whom God has already established.

My charge to you, dear ones, is two-fold:

  1. Keep heart, take heart…but don’t lose heart
  2. You can struggle and live abundantly at the same time.

Don’t disengage what your challenges are tied to; rather engage the reason you’ve been entrusted to overcome them. Sure, it may take some time. Perhaps a year or two or ten. But together, we will ‘get there’.

‘Til then, don’t sign off yet. At least until God says it’s time.

Selah.