Around 2:00 pm that afternoon, I was putting the finishing touches on a blog post while a contractor repaired our back porch. The window behind me was cracked open, and I heard an individual coughing. Then somebody began pounding wildly on our back door. 

As I ran downstairs and opened the door, the contractor motioned to his throat and gutted out a hardly decipherable I’m choking. 

Never having performed the Heimlich, I bear hugged his torso from behind and placed my clenched fist near his belly button, pounding his abdomen two to three times. I remember heaving him off the ground at least twice. Convinced there was nothing that could be done, I heard myself screaming Lord Jesus repeatedly in an absolute state of panic as my phone connected with 911. 

He had started choking while I was upstairs. How long had he gone without air?

When EMS answered, our contractor was still coughing as he tried to get my attention to tell me the apple was on the floor. The miniscule piece of apple lodged in his throat was on the patio floor thank you, Lord. 

Our contractor said his choking was so prolonged that he had accepted it was his time to go. A former combat war veteran—he couldn’t believe this is how he’d go out.

***

God is long at work; we participate

All four of our babies have used the same beautiful crib that my parents bought for us nearly eleven years ago. We’ve lived in five different homes since that time, and the room the crib is in is always among the prettiest. There’s something lovely about that crib. 

What tickles me is that a tool maybe three inches long that I can lift with one finger put it together. And put it together well, might I say: my husband has regularly tested that crib by climbing in to snuggle our kids. 

But a dinky Allen wrench? We have so many lying around in a disheveled heap of tools in our garage.  After the furniture is assembled, does anybody ever exclaim, Would you just look at that crib? Stunning! I bet that Allen wrench was crafted with the best steel alloys!

***

The contractor and I stood in my backyard processing what in the world had just happened. How could something as boring as eating an apple kill you? And how does an untrained person know how to help a choking 250-pound man? 

“It was the Lord,” I remarked.

“Are you a believer?”
“Yes,” he said.

A second contractor entered our backyard to see me crying and his coworker rendered speechless.  After hearing about our traumatic experience, the second contractor, who had apparently already been encouraging his friend to engage God, responded:

“You have to go to church with me.”

***

Common, Unmemorable, but Available

Last week, I sent my completed book proposal to a well-known publisher. My instructor suggested I do so, and the only reason I was able to get my hands on contact information for this publisher was because a dear friend of mine (a very gifted author) was able to run down the email address. It can be hard to break into a publisher’s world if you are 1. Unrepresented by an agent or 2. Unfamous. 

I was giddy when the acquisitions editor said her team would be reviewing my proposal only to let me know a few days later that the publisher had too many books in that space right now.  

I read the email while standing in my kitchen, surrounded by clutter and kids that needed motrin.  

The tension to achieve weighs on me. I want progress. I want measurable gains. I want to be used in impactful ways in the writing world. And a lot of these are truly pure motives: Let this be great for Your kingdom, Lord. God hasn’t yet opened the doors that logically lead to His glory. Doesn’t He want this to go well for His own namesake? 

But you better believe, this tension faded away at 2:00 p.m. that Thursday afternoon in September when the veil was lifted, and we saw life as it really is: a vapor.

And people as they really are: the imago dei with an opportunity to trust and enjoy Christ now or be separated from God in eternal destruction.

And God as He really is: kind, merciful, and as close as the air we breathe.

We may disdain for a second that our ideas have been frustrated. But we have far weightier things to disdain. 

Disdain missing the worship in front of us because we think we’re above it.   
Disdain neglecting the nearness of God because we want our plan.
Disdain power, control, or self-sufficiency that cloaks itself as holy. 
Disdain sin that clings so closely that it’s baked into our lives.  
Disdain a fraudulent love for God that never risks our dreams.

If anyone serves me, he must follow me.^[1]

***

Happy in Jesus

On the afternoon that our contractor choked, as I was ministering through writing, God called me off to do something incomparably pivotal right in front of my face. I was ministering here; God called me to minister there. In His mercy, He puts us in the right place, at the right time, to do His work, for His glory.

And where I am, there will my servant be also.^[2]

Only God may see what He asked His servant to do way out in left field. We see the crib; God sees the allen wrench. We look at the appearance; God looks at the heart.

If anybody serves me, the Father will honor him.^[3]

Why is being hidden in God a balm for our dry soul? Because glorying in God helps us enjoy Him, and enjoying God helps us glorify Him.^[4]

There is a Light that shines beyond this mere moment–a Light that will never be extinguished. We may quietly say the prayer, turn the cheek, make the phone call, punch the clock, or meet the need in teeny tiny ways that seemingly lack eternal weight. Rest assured, our Father sees. Our earthly eyes fail, but there is a spiritual world looking on Christ’s victory in us.

Put to music, it might sound like: 

In the cross, in the cross
Be my glory ever; 
Till my raptured soul shall find 
Rest beyond the river
…
Near the cross! O Lamb of God,
Bring its scenes before me;
Help me walk from day to day
With its shadow o’er me. ^[5]

In other words: ‘“[T]he altar must often be built in one place in order that fire from heaven may descend somewhere else.”’^[6]

The contractor’s choking event happened two years ago, and I’m still ridiculously joyful remembering God’s mercy on me and our contractor in those terrifying moments. I could have been a million other places that day. I thought I was sitting at my laptop to finish an article. God knew otherwise. Let us build the altar. Let us also rejoice if fire from heaven descends elsewhere.  

We love You, Lord. Establish the work of our hands. Renew our enjoyment of You as we participate in Your glory.

***

A smidge of an update

This story about my contractor came to mind this past week in light of some rejection on the book idea. Womp. Womp.

You know what? By the grace of God, I have *mostly* not felt despair—I think the Lord brought specific scripture before me to equip me for the rejection. And in the rejection email, the editor said we think the book has “wonderful potential.” All week long, I’ve been replaying a line from a stupid movie in my head: So you’re telling me there’s a chance?! 😉

Well, I climbed back in the saddle and sent my proposal to another publisher that would be one of my favorites. (I had been waiting for some more info on them to include in my proposal.) This second publisher plans to review my proposal over the next few weeks. That’s probably for the better because there’s a lotta dishes in my sink.

---

^[1] John 12:26 ESV.

^[2] Id.

^[3] Id.

^[4] “Q. What is the chief end of man? A. Man’s chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy him forever.” See, e.g.,  Westminister Shorter Catechism.  

^[5] “Near the Cross” by Fanny Crosby (1869).

^[6] CS Lewis, Letters to Malcom, Chiefly on Prayer 157 (1964) (quoting Charles Williams).