Becky Eldredge - The Inner Chapel: Embracing the Promises of God

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2020 Becky Eldredge

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Scripture quotations contained herein are from the New Revised Standard Version Bible: Catholic Edition, copyright 1993 and 1989 by the Division of Christian Education of the National Council of the Churches of Christ in the U.S.A. Used by permission. All rights reserved.

Cover art credit: Maria_Galybina/iStock/Getty Images, Artemisia1508/iStock/Getty Images.

eBook ISBN: 978-0-8294-4934-1

Based on the print edition: 978-0-8294-4933-4

Library of Congress Control Number: 2019957362

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Find additional resources from Becky Eldredge on prayer and other spiritual practices at

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Part 1

I knew something had changed when I realized I was the one holding the spoon. My grandmother lay flat on her back in the hospital bed, with only her head tilted. She was approaching the end of hour two of six following strict instructions to lie on her back as still as she could because of the excessive bleeding in the recovery room after her aortic-aneurysm surgery. I paused midscoop with the spoon that held her favorite treat, Blue Bell light vanilla ice cream, to peer into my grandmothers crystal-blue eyes. She and I held each others gazes without speaking a word. During this long pause, we exchanged our love in silence. Love welled within me to the point of bursting as my blue eyes held the loving gaze of her blue eyes. How many timesfrom the days of my early childhood when she had spoon-fed me treatshad my eyes stared into hers and a deep understanding come over me that I was loved, deeply loved. Today, the same exchange was made, except I was the one holding the spoon. As I finished scooping the bite of ice cream, I glanced at her hands that told a thousand stories of gentle acts of kindness and love. Those hands had scooped bites of baby food into my mouth, stirred the large spoon in the cast-iron pot as she stood at her stove making a roux or crawfish touffe, and joyfully fed her great-grandchildren the very treat I was feeding her today. She sheepishly accepted my offer of the bite of ice cream, the role reversal apparent to her as much as to me. She smiled and joked about this being her job when I was little.

I had no idea that holding the spoon in my hand that day marked the beginning of a life-changing journey. Three weeks later, my grandfather learned that he had a brain tumor. Two days before his surgery to remove this tumor, I submitted the manuscript for my first book. A week after his surgery, my hometown, Baton Rouge, experienced a flood that local news reporters called the thousand-year flood. The waters rose so quickly and suddenly that no one was prepared for the impact. My husband, brother, and uncle rescued my parents out of their home by boat. It was only a day later that we maneuvered our way through the wet, devastated streets of Baton Rouge to meet with my grandfathers neurosurgeon in New Orleans, to receive the news that the tumor they removed was indeed cancer: glioblastoma. After Id spent hours on the Internet prior to this appointment, researching the possibilities, that wordglioblastomahit me in the stomach and literally took my breath away. Aggressive, terminal brain cancer.

We drove back through the water-soaked streets of Baton Rouge to my home. I could not process all that we were holding in this moment. The uncertainty of whether my parents home was destroyed. The devastation of thousands of homes flooded around us, including those of neighbors, family, and friends. The people immediately in front of me needing help. The continued recovery of my grandmother from a life-threatening aortic aneurysm. The news of my grandfathers terminal cancer. I tried to wrap my head around the enormity of all that had happened in just a months time while my mind raced through the various roles and responsibilities related to the calls of my life. Marriage. Motherhood. Ministry.

If Im honest, I dont even know if I prayed that day in the car. I was overwhelmed to the point of feeling numb. The prayers came, though, in the days, weeks, and months after that car journey through my town. I cried out to God like never before as Baton Rouge fought its way through recovery again, as my grandmother healed, and as I accompanied my grandfather to his final breath.

So, here I am a few years later, writing this book. You might ask why. Why did I open with this story? Its simple, really. I believed in what this book was about long before the moment I realized I was the one holding the spoon. God began to awaken my understanding about it through life experience and witnessing the magnificent work of God in others through my ministry work.

Today, though, my belief in what you are about to read is not superficial or shallow. It is a bone-deep knowing, hard earned. It is a felt, whole-body belief in the gift of the inner chapel and in the promises of God.

The promises of God discussed in this book were included in one of the last conversations my grandfather and I had. He had the same blue eyes that my grandmother has. He stared up at me from his hospice bed on his sun porch, both of us knowing how little time we had left together. We shared words of love and thanksgiving. Then our conversation turned to how God is with us and how much God was with him. He was deeply thankful for the gift of never being alone, for being loved deeply, and for Gods companionship throughout his journey.

We locked our blue eyes and exchanged a loving gaze, just as I had with my grandmother eighteen months earlier. The depth of my love for him and the gift of being deeply loved by him welled up and released a sob. Tears streamed down my face and his as he asked me to make him a promise. I nodded and called him by my special name for him: Boppy, what is it? Then, calling me by his special name for me, he said, Becksa, promise me youll tell people what we understand about Gods love. Promise me youll tell people that they are not alone. Promise me you will not stop what you are doing and will keep sharing the Good News with others.

This book is the fulfillment of the promise I made to Boppy. In so many ways, what lies in this book has been in me for years. It wasnt until I faced a stripping away of all certainty and walked closely with someone facing his death that I developed some clarity about what it all meant.

My prayer and hope for each of you as you read this is that you understand in a bone-deep, knowing way what my grandfather understood on his deathbed and what I came to understand in a deeper way as the spoon holder: There is an exquisite gift given to each of usthe inner chapel. And visiting it often allows us to discover the promises of God.

Every summer our family takes a trip to the beach, a tradition that began long before the kids were born but that is now a cherished family ritual. One of my favorite things to do as a mom is to watch our three children at the beach. Through the years Ive watched the kids go from being barely able to sit up in the sand to crawling around eating sand, to the glorious year they can stand on their feet and put their toes in the water. With each passing year, their physical development and their courage allow them to enter deeper and deeper into the ocean. Where once they stayed close to shore with only inches of water covering their legs, my son, Brady, and my daughter Abby now head to waters deeper than their bodies can stand in. Our younger daughter, Mary, still likes to stay close to the shore where her feet solidly touch the ground.