Last summer, my husband watched a Netflix documentary about rock climbing, and that’s all it took. One class at the rock climbing gym, one “practice climb” in Tennessee, a hundred YouTube video tutorials, and six months later – I find myself looking for a firm place to stand on the side of a cliff overlooking the Pacific Ocean in Punta de Tralca, Chile.
AND I LOVED IT!!!
Maybe one day, I’ll write a post entitled, The Perks of Submitting to Your Husband’s Crazy Ideas, or, How to Get Your Parents to Pray for You More. But today, I wanted us to hang out with another “climber” who found a firm place to stand.
“Climber”, psalmist, harpist, shepherd, king, and giant-knocker-outer David was inspired by God to write one of my favorite psalms – Psalm 40. Here are a few details about this psalm:
Today is Day #33 for me to be in Santiago, Chile.
Yes, as I mentioned two weeks ago, I’m thinking in Spanish, but that doesn’t mean I understand everything that’s being said and felt here.
My ears strain to listen well.
My brain is tired at the end of the day.
I find it’s a lot easier to ignore conversations taking place in a language not your own.
But how loving is that? I’m glad God didn’t take the easy route of ignoring.
One of my favorite verses in the whole Bible is Hebrews 4:15.
Hebrews 4:15 For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. (NIV)
Jesus is not unable to empathize. That means He’s very able to empathize.
Just last month, we celebrated Jesus, the Son of God, coming to be with us. Jesus, our great high priest, was not just able to empathize—He was willing to empathize.
And I want to be like Jesus.
There’s a poor side to Santiago, Chile, and there’s a rich side. We’re here to visit my in-laws on the poor side where my husband grew up. This week I got a little taste of what it’s like to go to the emergency room when you live on the poor side of the tracks.
My 78 year-old father-in-law became confused and disoriented, and his skin was cold and clammy. We took him to the doctor, whose only diagnosis was to get to the emergency room right away, suspecting he might be having a stroke.
A twenty-minute made-for-the-movies race car ride across town landed us at the poor side’s “new” hospital’s emergency room. Thankfully, since my mother-in-law volunteers at the hospital, her connections were able to get my father-in-law right in.
And for the next five hours, while his body received intravenous therapy, my soul received it’s own “therapy” in the crowded waiting room.
Today is day #20 of the long-awaited trip to visit family and friends in Santiago, Chile. I’ve probably put on my waist at least two inches of the world’s best bread and butter so far. Not bad—one inch per ten days!
But that’s not the “transformation” I want to talk about today.