Patty Asaad, in our opinion, is a pillar among women’s ministers of the ICOC. For
years, despite living with a debilitating chronic illness and all the usual challenges that
come with leadership in any large group of human beings, she has been faithful and
enduring for many years as a senior women’s minister in the American churches, most
recently in Texas. She has always been the embodiment of Southern grace — the kind
of woman who turns heads, but not just with the effortless poise of a true Southern
belle, but with the disciple-of-Jesus-brand of Proverbs 31-type wise instruction ready on
her tongue. She may bring the charm of magnolia blossoms and sweet tea to every
room she enters but God has also given her a sharp-as-steel wit and intellect. Over the
years she has grown a backbone of courage and faith in her Lord that would surely
inspire anyone who hears her story.

Now retired from full-time ministry, Patty has finally made time to hone and share
her exceptional gift for writing. We are proud and privileged to repost some of her work
here with her permission. It seems appropriate for us to begin with a piece that features
Jennifer Lambert, a trailblazer and another pillar among the early waves of women’s
ministers out of Boston from the beginning of our movement. Jennifer’s story of courage
and faith is both empowering and uplifting. May the love and strength of our Lord fortify
us all as we read and share these sisters’ stories.

 Originally posted on Patty Asaad's blog.

“What Just Happened”

is written to help us navigate life’s challenges

Patty Asaad, Dallas Texas

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For example, the little piggy that went to the market wasn’t grabbing her purse and going shopping. It was a sad day when I came to that realization. I won’t explain the details here because I don’t want to traumatize my readers. However, it took the fun out of playing with Charlotte’s toes.

Another time, I was eating a breakfast casserole at a brunch and enjoying the egg, cheese, and sausage combination until I overheard a conversation between two friends.

“This casserole is great. Did you make it with the sausage we gave you from Chopper?”

Chopper? The little sausage piggy had a name! I gagged. I couldn’t eat an animal with a name. It was almost as bad as finding out the dish was made from bunny or puppy.

Those are disturbing (albeit irrational) examples, but it’s always memorable to learn a new concept or have an epiphany that changes my outlook.

I had a warped view of God’s love

Over the years, I’ve held many mistaken views of God. Every time I read and the Bible helps me see God’s characteristics in a deeper way, I marvel for days and can’t stop thinking about that new insight.

That was what I needed when diagnosed with lupus at age 22. It was the hardest trial I had faced up until that time. I was afraid my life would never be fulfilling again. In my head, I knew God never stopped loving us, but in my heart, I felt like he had. I saw God caring for me but waiting to discipline me and throw down lightning bolts when I messed up. I had a warped view of God’s love.

Knowing my thinking had to change, I curled up on the couch for hours, reading, praying, and trying to work through my emotions. First, I looked at familiar scriptures about God and his love and mercy. Maybe I’d heard them too many times, but those passages didn’t help my heart change.

 I read in Judges 10 about the massive sin the Israelites committed, so God allowed another nation to oppress the Israelites. I have no idea how I ended up in that passage; it was an odd choice, given I was looking for encouragement. And at first, the story just backed up my harsh view of God. However, I read Judges 10:16, which said, “he could bear Israel’s misery no longer.” The Israelites hated suffering, but God found it unbearable. 

That revolutionized how I viewed God. He has never relished punishing me. I had misunderstood the heart of God. The next year became a golden time in my relationship with God because, for the first time, I felt like he was carrying me in the palm of his hand rather than sitting in judgment. Somehow that realization made my problems tolerable.

What does it mean to trust God?

Fast forward to today, and as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, the past few years have been my hardest. But I’d like to become a woman who “laughs at the time to come.” (Proverbs 31:25b ESV) Whenever another emotional blow has hit, I’ve scrambled (and failed) to maintain my peace and joy. While I’ve had victories and learned much, I crave more consistency.  

A well-known Scottish minister, Samuel Rutherford, once wrote, “It is faith’s work to claim and challenge loving-kindness out of the roughest strokes of God.” During peaceful, easy times, I’ve read quotes like that and thought, “Absolutely, I believe that. Everything God does is out of love and kindness. My job is to trust.” But that conviction has waned during trials that have confused, hurt, and overwhelmed me. I could say the right words to myself, but those convictions needed to reach my heart and change my emotions.

What does it mean to trust God? Love and trust are intertwined. The first building block of trust is feeling understood and knowing whoever we trust has our best interests at heart.

God understood all of us and what we needed

Meditating on Hebrews 4 has taken on new meaning even though I’ve known the passage for decades. The writer was helping the Jewish Christians understand that Jesus was their high priest, and he wrote, “We do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses.”  I’d never thought about the depth of Jesus’ understanding and empathy. He knew my strengths, my weaknesses, and my priorities. Jesus tried to tell us this when he said, “Even the hairs of your head are all numbered,” (Matthew 10:30 ESV) but that concept hadn’t sunk into my heart. He also knew better than I what I needed to cope with hardships.

Before Charlotte came to live with us, I had thought at my age and with my health issues, I could never raise a baby, especially not a baby with special needs. But God saw me and knew the strength he would give me when I needed it. Feeling completely seen and understood has been the epiphany I need to relax and trust.

Charlotte was already staying with us before we realized our custody would be long-term. By that time, there was no way we would let anyone else take her. Todd and I didn’t even have to discuss it. It was difficult, but it would be worse if Charlotte lived far away and we didn’t have a close relationship with her. Again, God understood all of us and what we needed.

Back to the tragedy of the little piggy going to the market. I’ve thought about becoming a vegetarian, but it would be difficult because I’m married to the ultimate carnivore. Todd says he wants cows to fear his name. Sometimes reality doesn’t work for me, so I’ve had a new epiphany. I choose to believe meat falls from heaven wrapped in plastic, and no one will convince me differently.