Elise is one of the of those women that does the hard things with a tender heart. She and her husband have been close friends to my children and they all say that she is a very special friend, a loyal friend, a godly friend. Today I’m honored to have her share with us in our series, Faithful Obedience.

Perfect Grace and Blueberry Muffins
by Elise Warner

My whole body shivered uncontrollably as I curled up on my side, trying to position the pillow perfectly to cradle my neck without putting any pressure on the screaming nerves and muscles. My husband gently placed the heat pack on my shoulders as he has countless times over the course of our relationship. I smiled, but I wanted to cry. Not this week, Lord. Not this week. Why now? It was Josiah’s first week of medical school. And it wasn’t going according to plan.

If you were a fly on the wall of my home, you would quickly realize that I have a thing for charts. There is a wall calendar, a daily planner, a work to-do list, and an ideal daily schedule in the room with me as I write. My brain craves order. And while that is not a sin, control has often been my idol—an idol that is never satisfied and leaves me filled with anxiety as I try to predict what the next day, month, year will hold.

I was nineteen when the subtle theme of needing to surrender and trust my God became a resounding cymbal. Now I like to joke with my family that my stubborn do-it-all attitude meant God needed to slap me upside the head to stop me from running off a cliff. And he did it through a pinched nerve in my neck that set off a chain reaction leaving me bed-ridden for a short time and physically limited for, well, seven years now.

Josiah and I spent the weeks leading up to the start of medical school carefully preparing. We wrote down principles, guidelines, and (of course) schedules to help us navigate this new season. I thought we were ready. That I had everything in place to control how this week would go. I had even planned out what I needed to pack for his lunches and how I would make him blueberry muffins for his first day as a surprise breakfast item. I had everything ready, all my ducks in a row, and I was going to make starting school easy for my husband.

Instead, I spent the first three days in worst pain than I have been in for over a year—exhausted, unable to stomach much food, barely able to hold my five month old without feeling sick. I got behind in my Bible reading—little boxes left unchecked. The idea of blueberry muffins was laughable. I needed my husband to put our daughter down, rock her, play with her while his pile of schoolwork loomed large on the desk in our room.

Thursday I woke up feeling physically better. Spiritually, I was grumpy. I struggled to pray out my frustration, to confess my anxiety, to find gratitude, to believe that the Lord could work through me. How can I be a good mom if I can’t even play with my daughter? How can I be a good wife, run a hospitable home, bake those stupid muffins if I am so easily debilitated? I grudgingly opened my Bible, knowing that I needed to preach truth to myself. I checked my reading plan to see what I needed to catch up on. 2 Corinthians.

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:16-18.

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly in my weakness that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12: 9-10

How gracious is our Lord? He uses my small trial to topple my idol over and over. And when I come back to him broken, frustrated, and confused—he always meets me and reminds me of the kind of God I am learning to surrender to. His grace is always enough. He will do far more with my weakness than I can ever do with my plans and schedules. He is my strength, my shield, my keeper, my redeemer. And when he demands that I surrender and trust him, he is doing it for my own good so that he can bring me more and more into the light of His glory. To surrender to him is to be made strong.

I don’t know if my head injury will ever be healed—if I will ever be able to play a game of volleyball or go on a run without meeting pain the next morning or if I will ever be able to do a small morning workout without wondering if it will throw my daily plans out the window. I wish that I could entirely predict what will cause a horrible episode like this week. I pray that one day it will simply be gone. But even more than I wish for healing, I wish that I never forgot His promises. I wish that I could wake up one day and never doubt His goodness, never question whether I really should trust Him. I pray that I will be a woman filled with peace and freedom, knowing that my God is in control. My flesh and heart fail me daily. But God’s grace. God’s grace never fails and never runs out. It meets me in my need through His Word, pointing me outward and upward towards Him. It meets me in my daughter and husband and all the gifts I have to rejoice in. It meets me in medicine and doctors and heat packs. When I faithfully open my eyes to find his grace, it overwhelms every aspect of my life. Even in blueberry muffins baked just a few days late.

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