Birthday Cake for Jesus

Okay, it's time for a little transparency. This Christmas I baked my first birthday cake for Jesus. I felt just as silly baking it and singing around it as I thought I would. In fact, the entire experience was not the Christmas celebration I had anticipated.

I've never been on board with the idea. My literal mind could never seem to accept it. Jesus is eternal, therefore, no "birthday." You don't serve birthday cake at a baby's birth; Christmas might be best celebrated with blue bubblegum cigars or diaper trees. And shouldn't the one having the birthday be able to enjoy cake? Jesus doesn't eat the cake -- overweight, overindulged Americans do! But, I had decided I would do it as a way of re-enforcing the point of Christmas: God come to earth as a babe to save mankind. Then, one of our littles asked if we could bake a birthday cake for Jesus. "Great, she's into it. Anything for the kiddos, right?"

Christmas Eve we returned from church, sat down to a deliciously noisy family dinner. While dishes were cleared, we called the rest of our family overseas and collected some of the excitement of their Christmas Day. Then, it was time for cake. I got out the dishes, feeling as though, sooner or later I'd have to reel some of the older folks at the table back in with a gentle scolding, "Oh, stop! It's for the littles. I let you have your fun." Not a creature was stirring. Not one sarcastic comment left anyone's lips.

Candles. Just how many candles do you put on Jesus' birthday cake? He's eternal! Even if you're counting mortal years, there'd be no fitting that many candles on this cake. I settled on one and lit it. The lights were dimmed, the cake was placed in the midst of our family, and everyone sang. Everyone sang! Well, thank You, Jesus. That went well. I plucked the single candle from the cake and started slicing.

The following evening, as the house settled into quiet, Scott and I began to revel in the wonder and memories of the previous twenty-four hours. "I really liked the birthday cake thing. That was cool," he said. Really? "Yeah, I though it would be kind of weird, but it was cool. And I think all the kids were into it." I was dumbfounded. Sure, I hadn't heard any objections, but liked it?

A couple days passed, and the time came for Christmas ham to be made into soup and birthday cake to be parceled out and frozen. I unwrapped the colorful treat and noticed something -- a single hole through the icing, where the birthday candle had stood. Jesus came to die. His wrists and ankles pierced as He allowed Himself to be nailed to a tree, the punishment of the cursed. His heart pierced by a Roman sword. I fought back the tears. This "Christmas" celebration turned my heart to the cross. The place where it all began for me. My slate was washed clean. My heart was made new. Redemption was purchased -- for my life, for everything this world dumps on me, and for everything at which I fail or fall short. The place where I was healed and hope was restored. Where the Seed was given up to die that His life in me might flourish and bear fruit for all to see. The place where my victory masqueraded as Heaven's defeat, where the way things appeared to human eyes did not come close to what was being done for me. The place where a "silly" chocolate cake could bring glory to a King.

Happy birthday, Dear Jesus! Happy birthday to you!

Hope Deferred

What would it take for you to have hope?

We all have moments of uncertainty. The moment we are having has lasted more than a year so far, with no end in sight. It could emerge as the 'do-over," the second chance we have, on occasion fantasized about, or it could end in crushing disappointment and an unimaginably painful severance. "How will this all work out? Should we ___? Best not to plan too far ahead. Don't spend that money just yet. Don't make that promise until we are sure." This place in which we've been stalled tests our faith and our relationship. It changes the way we live and pray and plan. The things that frustrate and give Scott pause are not always the same things that frustrate and inhibit me; some days I am comfortable and cruising right along, while he is struggling, and vice versa. We are challenged with praying through our own fear and skepticism as well as understanding and interceding for each other's. There is not a facet of our lives that has not been tested or put on hold. The overall scheduling and paperwork can be daunting, and following our Monday through Friday routine is physically and mentally exhausting. Our fairly sizable home can seem cramped and cluttered pretty frequently. And, while it may not be the "how" it is definitely the "what" I always wanted! But, even this far into our journey, we still have no indication how all this will turn out. I have never encountered the unresolved and unknowable at such an intensity and for so great a period of time as I have in this season. And I am sure we are not alone.

Years ago I read a devotional written by a woman who had a miscarriage in her second trimester. Her child had died, and with him, the expectation and wonder of her very first pregnancy. Some time later, she believed she was pregnant again. They waited to do a pregnancy test. They waited to tell others. They waited to make any purchases. They waited to enjoy it. "Don't get your hopes up. Proceed slowly just in case." The depth of her reservedness reflected the depth of her grief. Her second pregnancy was overshadowed by uncertainty when it should have been crowned with joy. Months and months of holding her breath, were finally brought to an end by the first breath of a new life. But the joy and thankfulness of a second chance were lost until that very last moment.

Isaiah 43:18 says, "Remember not the former things, nor consider the things of old." Not that we shouldn't remember all that God has done for us, the times He has rescued us, or all He has rescued us from, but we should never dwell on those things, stay in the places He has called us out of. God is God of the new, of progression and redemption. God is always working to improve things and create beauty from ashes. The "do-overs" He grants us are opportunities for hope, not cause for trepidation. A second chance is not a time for us to tread lightly or fearfully. New experiences that may resemble former setbacks or suffering are experiences we need to confidently, expectantly embrace in Jesus' name as His redemptive work.

Proverbs 13:12 says, "Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life." Seems to be something any child can understand, huh? If the thing we hope for is delayed, we are sad, but when we get what we want we are joyful. But it's much more than that. "Hope deferred makes the heart sick..." If we choose worry over hope, if we would rather walk in fear instead of hope our heart will become sick, weak. A sick, weakened heart will eventually fail. "...but a desire fulfilled is a tree of life." There is only one true Hope (1 Timothy 1:1), only one Inheritance of which we are guaranteed (1 Peter 1:3-6), and a single Desire of our heart that will never leave us disappointed or unfulfilled (2 Corinthians 4:17-18). Our Lord Jesus Christ is our immediate, eternal hope in which we can rest every moment of every day. He brings life and healing to the world. He redeems and makes new. Even when the "glorious unfolding" is long in coming. Even when it is one holding pattern after another. Even when the cold grey skies of Winter never seem to break to allow even a glimpse of the sun.

No matter how this chapter will end, we will have an ah-mazing testimony when we are finally able to speak (just one more frustrating "hold" this time has placed on our life). Until then, we will walk in the present and eternal hope of Jesus Christ, our heart's desire.

All For Love

What is the chief end of man?
Man's chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever.

There is no other catechism I remember quite as well as that one. Our main function, our primary goal is to glorify God and to walk in the benefits of a life joined with His. Not one day. Not as soon as... Glorify Him today. Enjoy Him today. Heaven on earth. And isn't that what this season is all about? Heaven come to earth. But why?

I was contemplating the wonder of it all the other morning. I'm going to ask you to forget that God submitted to human authority, laid down a life of splendor and royalty in exchange for cloth diapers, and came to a place where He would face daily egregious wrongs committed by men toward others for over thirty years. His heart breaking for His people, but His hands restrained for the greatest good of those people. God came to earth to die.

Luke 19:10 says, "...the Son of Man came to seek and to save that which was lost." To find the lost (Rom. 3:23 "For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God."), to seek out and call those given over to the influence of sin, and to save them (Acts 4:12 "Salvation is found in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given to mankind by which we must be saved."). How was that to come about? Matthew 20:28 says, "...the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give His life as a ransom for many." He gave His life as a ransom; He laid down His life that you and I could live to glorify and enjoy Him forever, today.

We can't begin to imagine the glory God is due. We require our children to respect us because of our role as parents and because of their need to respect authority their entire lives. We expect our teacher or employer to give us the credit we deserve for a job well done. We -- hopefully -- pay our bills when they come due for the services or products we have been allowed to use. Expectation. Entitlement. Those words are not at all foreign to us and yet, who could imagine all God is due?

The Creator of the Universe. The Great I Am. The Alpha and Omega. The Way, the Truth and the Life. Jehovah Jireh. Who can measure His worth? Who could possibly do enough, say enough, sing enough to offer up all the praise He is due. No one. Which is why God acts in such a way to bring glory to Himself. (This tally by John Piper is a pretty diverse account of the ways God has brings glory to His name.) And there is no wrong in it. If your coworkers were all sent home day after day, and you were expected to pick up the slack, would you do it for free? You would want the honor you are due. Does your wife always get her way? As a spouse and partner, you want the respect you are due. And God is due all glory and honor for He created all things, and they are permitted to exist because He allows (Rev. 4:11).

But was His own glory the motivation for what took place in Bethlehem long ago? Forgive me if you've heard this before, but "For God so loved the world, He gave His only begotten Son that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have everlasting life" (John 3:16). It was for love. John 15:13 says, "Greater love has no one than this, than to lay down one's life for his friends." 1 John 3:16 tells us, "By this we know love, because He (Jesus) laid down His life for us. And we also ought to lay down our lives for the brethren." Love was the motivation for God coming to live and hunger and weep and work with mankind; love was the motivation for His death just a short time later.

God the Son was glorified; God the Father was glorified. In birth and in death. Luke 2:13-14 the story of Christ's birth, recounts "a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest...'" As Judas left to betray Him, Jesus said, "Now the Son of Man is glorified, and God is glorified in Him" (John 13:31). But if not for love, what would bring glory? It is the magnanimous deeds of one which causes their story to be told throughout the ages. It is selflessness that draws people into lasting, intimate relationship with another. God gained the glory He is due, but it was because of an incredibly loving act -- God, coming to earth for us. Emmanuel.

The Christmas Dresses

It fit like a glove. It was bright red, and soft, and may have been the first in a young girl's memory. The Christmas dress. An unremarkable woman's attempt at bringing some hope to a bad situation. The smile on the young girl's face was tentative. They barely knew one another, and pleasing the other was something they were still learning to do. But as their exchange continued, trust emerged, and they began to leave the thrift store with their purchase.

"Where did it go?"

"What?"

"Where did it go?! The dress. The red dress that was hanging right here!"

"I just bought it," the unremarkable woman replied.

"Oh, no! I just paid the lady for it! I was buying it for a little girl who needs a family. My church and I are trying to give her a good Christmas."

The unremarkable woman and the young girl exchanged glances. They had family. They were family. And they handed the bright red Christmas dress over to the little girl with no one but strangers.

"Please pray for this little girl," said the lady with the Christmas dress.

And they did. The unremarkable woman and the young girl.

"We heard what happened with the Christmas dress," said others. "We'd like to give you this."

The bag was bigger than the young girl. Two perfect Christmas dresses, two beautiful pairs of shoes, and more hope than the unremarkable woman could ever give a young girl. A sweet indulgence crafted by the One who knows each sparrow that falls and faithful servants who obeyed His voice.

Merry Christmas to all!

When Your Hill Feels More Like a Valley

"You are the light of the world -- like a city on a hilltop that cannot be hidden. No one lights a lamp and then puts it under a basket. Instead, a lamp is placed on a stand, where it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your good deeds shine for all to see, so that everyone will praise your heavenly Father." ~~ Matthew 5:14-16

I read this and I envision a stalwart, glowing cluster of homes -- maybe in ancient Jerusalem -- sitting high atop a hill. The flicker of golden light in each and every window. A serene, picturesque, and abiding image. A quiet little town that beckons to all, "Come. Here you will find peace and rest. Here you will find a place to call 'home.'"

As Christians, we are to represent, to be Christ to the world in the same way we have come to know Christ. We are to love (Lk. 10:27). We are to seek after Christ and serve Him by serving others, and give to Christ by giving to others (Mt. 6:19-21). Forgive (Mt. 18:21-22). Rejoice, pray, and give thanks (1 Th. 5:16-18). Render others as more important than ourselves and look out for the interests of others, that the body of Christ may be unified (Phil. 2:3,4). Do everything to the glory of God (1 Corinthians 10:31). And the way we do all of that is to remain rooted in Him, learning and yielding to good teaching, with grateful hearts (Col. 2:6,7) Just to name a few. But the reality of life sometimes looks more like a dirty diaper -- current location unknown, a daily noise level that could cause an uninformed neighbor to call the police, thirty years of work for an employer fixated only on its bottom line, crayon on my brand new sweater (and I am the guilty party) and a washing machine that requires motivational speaking just to manage the regular workload thrust upon the poor dear. How can we shine like warm, inviting lights on a hill when our lives feel more like the dark, cold valley the rest of the world is standing in?

First of all, I think an attitude of gratitude is essential. Focusing on the things we have been given, the blessings that remain right before our eyes on the daily helps us to remember who God is and all He does. In 1 Samuel 7, the nation of Israel, under the leadership of Samuel, repented and rededicated themselves to serving God. During this time, their enemies, the Philistines closed in to attack. Before they even had the opportunity, God confused the Philistines, making it possible for the men of Israel to pursue and slay them. Samuel erected a stone and called it Ebeneezer, "the stone of help." It was to serve as a remembrance of God's help when their trust was placed in His hands. Gratitude does that for us. It causes us to pinpoint the times in which God blessed us with victory over trouble, or blessed us to encourage us in our faith. Gratitude, keeping a running list of the goodnesses of God commemorates His hand in our lives and assures us, what He did before He will do again.

Secondly, repentance and seeking after the Lord. When the pasta boils over and the dog is barking incessantly to come in or go out or come in or go out; and there's a fight breaking out in the playroom and Mom just needs a hug, it can be tough to be that beacon of hope. In fact, I can feel more like a firecracker. But repentance says, "If I can't be Christ to those around me I am the problem." Christ lives and breathes in me; He has since the first "I do." If I am thinking of losing my cool on the next person that sucks their teeth at me, it's because I am standing in Christ's light. I am looking to meet my needs, not the needs of those I have been given to serve. And I need to repent. I need to ask the Lord what He wants me to be doing right at that moment. Perhaps I need to stand still and watch Him work. Perhaps I need to turn things down to a simmer and come alongside some folks. Either way, the clear and consistent light of Christ -- not my fiery explosion -- will always draw people to the Father.

Lastly, I think it's important to ask for help. It sounds so simple, doesn't it? I can't tell you how many times Rome has been burning and here I am just dumping fuel. People want to argue, the bills keep coming in, my schedule is filling in like storm clouds before a squall, it's 3 pm and I am still trying to do my morning devotions from two days ago! So, I stop, lift my eyes to the hills and find my He-- No. I argue back, I stress over the bills, I try to figure out how I'm going to manage all the things I have to do, and I mutter about all my needy, self-serving housemates who can't leave me alone for five minutes. After my fourth or fifth trip to the bathroom, seeking asylum, it dawns on me, by the grace of God, that not once in all of this have I, a) repented and sought the Lord or, b) simply asked for help. At these moments, I am no better than anyone else demanding their own way -- so much for that city on a hill. Even Jesus asked for help!

Christians aren't perfect. Their lives aren't perfect. But we do have a Savior and Friend who wants us to succeed in all He has called us to do. He wants us to use what we have learned as we walk through the valley, to give light to others. And He wants us to draw others to Him as we live our lives in obedience, our good deeds shining for all to see.

Damaged Goods

"Nobody is gonna hit as hard as life, but it ain't how hard you can hit. It's how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward." ~~ Sylvester Stallone, as Rocky Balboa

I have a confession to make. Growing up within spitting distance of The City of Brotherly Love, I have never seen one Rocky movie. Not. One. And I don't care to, truthfully, but the guy had a point. Life is hard. And to keep moving forward despite the setbacks and downright disasters that come with the territory requires a special kind of something.

Someone said I was disposable when I was just a child. I chose to believe it. I lived a schizophrenic existence, vacillating between trying to be the best at being "good," and simply giving up and being what others thought I was -- a wreck. The longer I walked in brokenness, the more I twisted reality. I did unto others before they could do unto me. I told myself it didn't matter. I told myself I didn't care. But I did care. I cared deeply what people thought.

A friend of mine just heard he was broken. All these years he thought he was okay. Sure there were skirmishes, sure there were disagreements, but as long as he had family it was all good. He'd hoped, deep down, he was loved as much as he imagined; he'd hoped a childlike hope that those who'd failed his hurting heart so long ago failed because they were ill equipped, not because they just didn't care. "I did for myself for so long, I wanted to be able to say 'thank you' for something for a change." But there he was, high and dry. Alone.

The truth is, we have all been wounded, bruised, burdened or hardened because of the mere exercise of living in this world. No one escapes it. Even the kindest are betrayed. Even the healthiest people fall ill. Even the strongest have doubts. But do we choose to stay that way? Is the way to keep moving forward to merely take the hit?

2 Corinthians 4:7-10 says:

"We now have this shining light in our hearts, but we ourselves are like fragile clay jars containing this great treasure. This makes it clear that our great power is from God, not from ourselves."We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed.  "Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies."

We once had a set of dishes. They weren't really microwaveable; but they didn't explode or anything, so we continued to nuke them. It got so you couldn't even take them from the shelf and set them gently on the table -- they would snap in two without warning. They had become so compromised, so damaged by conditions they were never meant to withstand, they could not be used for their intended purpose.

We were not created for a world full of lies and murders and hate and sorrow and disease. We were created to bring glory to our Creator and live to the fullest in a perfect world made just for our existence. Sin broke us. Sin compromised our physical, spiritual and emotional being. Sin corrupted our world. Sin brought things into our bodies and our lives we were never meant to withstand. But God...

Jesus is the way God fixed all that. Jesus, the Light of the World, is the One who, when He lives and reigns in our hearts uses all that damage to make His light shine. Through the cracks this world has inflicted on our lives, on our bodies, on our hearts, the light of Christ shines like a solitary flame through the pinhole of a black night. He brings beauty where only ashes remain. He redeems those the world says are unredeemable. He heals the broken. He sets prisoners free.

We do not have to remain where the world chooses to place us. We do not have to merely "take the hit." We can be filled, like fragile clay jars with the treasure of Jesus Christ, Author, Creator, and Sustainer of this world. Blessings!

Grace In God's Time

"Hey, Judi, did you measure?"

"A long time ago," I heard myself say, as if, somehow, over time, the dimensions of the room would have been altered without us knowing. What I really meant was, it had been a while; perhaps I'd forgotten. Plus, we were shopping, way back when, for an area rug to go underneath our "comfortably seats four" kitchen table. Now, we had purchased said rug to accommodate our "he's still breathing on me!" table for six, or more. And it was still too big -- not for the table, mind you, but for the room.

I'd found the rug on a yard sale website; it wasn't my first choice, but that one was taken. This one was from a seller, a pastor; we even shared a name. Safe, right? As though no serial killer or sex trafficker named Judi would ever masquerade as a woman of the cloth. (I mean, ya gotta think about those things in this day and age.) Just a quick trip across the bridge, a more than reasonable asking price met, and it would be ours. It was perfect. It still smelled new. All joking aside, I had prayed about this. The rug thing -- or lack thereof -- was really bugging Scott. I had asked God to open or shut any doors inconsistent with us spending the money for "accessories" when we had other bills to pay. Every door we encountered was open. Except for one...

"What are we gonna do with it now?"

After discussing a few options, we decided there was definitely a "best choice." One of our newest residents had, in the Springtime, carelessly, possibly even deliberately, desecrated the carpet that was in her room. Upon the first offense, we spoke to her, of course; but after the second and a third incident, we removed said carpet. The stark, cold hardwood floors cried out for something to warm them, particularly as the weather began to change. But, things like plumbing and auto repairs, and medical bills drew our eyes away from restoring this child; and though we never would have made her do without any longer (it had already been months, and she had definitely exhibited signs of maturing) we hadn't given it further thought. But God had.

As I stood Sunday evening, absorbing the fragrance of new wool, my toes curling deeply into the soft pile, one word came to mind. Grace. This is how God's grace smells. This is how God's grace feels. Perfectly is how God's grace fits. It was time to show this young sister grace. And, though we wouldn't have denied it, it was completely off our radar. But not off of God's. He knows her need. He knows her heart. His timing is perfect. And He opens doors -- maybe not the ones we'd expect -- to two busy, sometimes over-extended and oblivious caregivers, giving them the privilege of being vessels of His grace.

Seeking After Greatness

Greatness. If everyone in your workplace, on your bus, in your family, or at your gym were to compile a list, "Five Great People," I would theorize, not a single list would match another. How can people who share such similar lives, areas, or goals have such differing opinions? Part of the issue lies in our definition of greatness. What makes a person great? How does greatness manifest itself?

I once told my husband I wanted him to be a "great" man, not just a good one. He looked a bit hurt at the time. (My delivery is not always without wounds.) My point, however, was heartfelt. I have a desire for my husband to be the best man he can possibly be. Not just for me, although, I would certainly benefit; not just for the children, though they, too would reap rewards; but for humanity. Humanity? Wow, Lady, you don't give a guy a break, do you? I know it might sound a bit ungrateful -- after all, what do I expect from a man, working hard, coming home each day to a busy family, going to church on Sundays, just trying to find time to mow the lawn and change the oil? How is he supposed to have enough life left in him to save the world and change the course of history? But, I truly want that for him.

You see, greatness is a small thing. Greatness is the pebble that, when dropped into the pond, will ripple across the surface, stirring everything in its path. Look at the increasingly large circle of ripples one small pebble can create. Nothing within its perimeter is left unaffected, though the pebble itself falls to rest somewhere below the waters, in the muck and mire of the bottom of the pond, hidden and as unremarkable as any other stone. The pebble on its own becomes of no consequence, but the impact it has on its environment is profound.

Jesus says greatness manifests itself in love and selflessness. One of the most beautiful and personally challenging passages of Scripture comes through Paul in Philippians 2:1-8:

"Therefore if there is any consolation in Christ, if any comfort of love, if any fellowship of the Spirit, if any affection and mercy, fulfill my joy by being like-minded, having the same love, being of one accord, of one mind. Let nothing be done through selfish ambition or conceit, but in lowliness of mind let each esteem others better than himself. Let each of you look out not only for his own interests, but also for the interests of others.
"Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus, who, being in the form of God, did not consider it robbery to be equal with God, but made Himself of no reputation, taking the form of a bondservant, and coming in the likeness of men. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to the point of death, even the death of the cross."

If we truly believe that, in Christ, we have peace and comfort, that all things work together for our good, that the Holy Spirit resides in our hearts, sanctifying and maturing us in the faith, leading and supplying us with all we need to do all He purposes for us to do, then as brothers and sisters, joined in the family of God by our like belief, let us get along to the point of esteeming others better than ourselves, look out for one another, serve one another as Christ served us, humble and selfless, obedient always to the Father, to the point of death, certainly the death of ourselves and the life of Christ in us. Is there any other greatness that one would lay down his life for another? Is there any other greatness we would model but the greatness of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ?

All over the globe martyrs are honored, people who died for the betterment of others. The whole of civilization realizes the greatness in the giving of self. I challenge you today as I challenge myself to serve and esteem others, knowing that obedience to that which the Lord commands will be honored and those who obey will be blessed. In Jesus' name.

I Pray I Would Pray

You can hear it in my voice -- well, maybe not you, but anyone actually present to hear me. The hoarseness, the crackle. And it gets markedly worse when I get emotional or fatigued. A side effect of having my thyroid out more than five years ago. Shortly after my surgery, as I was resting quietly under the influence of what remained of anesthesia, doctors removed the tube that had kept me breathing during the operation. Moments later my airway collapsed. A flurry of caps and gowns -- not the Pomp and Circumstance kind -- greeted me when I opened my eyes.

"Your pulse ox is too low. We must intubate you again." I heard the urgency in his voice, but it meant nothing to me. I felt fine. "I can breathe! I'm good," I quipped. But as they continued to press and I continued to argue, I caught a glimpse of my husband's worried face peering just over the doctor's shoulder. "Fine, do it," I conceded.

The next time my eyes opened wasn't nearly as pleasant. I had a tube down my throat and, over most of my face, a mask rivaling anything out of Silence of the Lambs. I was drooling, my incision stung from the sweat collecting in the creases of my neck, and all I could think was how badly my face was going to break out inside this pimple factory. The tube irritated the back of my throat, causing me to cough and constantly change positions to alleviate the burn; my lips were chapped and sore, and the "breathing" part of all this was like trying to suck a Wendy's Frosty through a coffee stirrer. I could not seem to fill my lungs; it felt as though I was suffocating. All night long I struggled and tossed and buzzed the nurse, begging her -- via pen and paper --  to "Get this thing off!". When the poor woman wasn't, with the patience of a saint, trying to reassure me, she was rushing to my bedside. It seems the only comfortable sleeping position I could find collapsed the tube, somehow setting off the pulse ox monitor and summoning the entire ICU. Fear. Misery. Rage. Bound by all of these, I counted off the hours in that long, black night.

Where was my faith? Where was my prayer? Instead, I texted my all too gracious friends at ridiculous hours, panicked and tormented the nursing staff, and barely endured one of the longest nights of my life. I think of Paul and Silas, bound and in prison, their earthly future uncertain. Luke's account in Acts 16:16-40, tells us they were beaten with rods and given "many stripes." They were then thrown into prison and fastened in stocks. Imagine open wounds, bleeding and sore, pressed up against dirty stone walls; legs constrained tightly at the ankles, muscles aching and cramping from the beating they'd undergone and the inability to move, lying in the filth of a prison cell floor. "But at midnight, Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God..." 

If anyone had reason to fear, it was Paul and Silas. A multitude had come against them; the magistrates of the city were convinced of their guilt. When would they ever be released? And what of their misery? Bruised and lashed from head to toe. Extreme cold or unbearable heat -- animals were kept better than prisoners in those days. Hungry. Exhausted. Who would have blamed them for being angry? What had they done wrong? A young woman was freed from the bondage of a demonic spirit as well as possession by those who would profit from her plight. They had served the Lord and proclaimed the truth of salvation. But here they sat, shackled, bleeding, and locked behind bars, counting off the hours in that long, black ni-- Hardly! They prayed and sang praises! And those nearby who listened were blessed by the sound of worship!

When I recall that first night -- the shock of this "easy breezy, in one day and out the next" surgery gone wrong, the pain and discomfort, the sensation of suffocating, the loneliness, and unanswered questions -- I pray I would do things a little differently today. I pray I would be able to thank the Lord for sparing my life. I pray I would cry out to Him, my Friend and my Deliverer. I pray I would pray. And like those sitting through the night with Paul and Silas, others would be blessed by the sound of worship and freed from their chains.

In Light of Your Feelings

"Daddy's Little Girl." A melody that has always made my heart hurt every time I have heard it. Oh, to be loved and cherished that way! To be spoken to gently and encouraged. To feel safer in one place than anywhere else in the world. To know what has been done for you -- every coat purchased to keep you warm and dry, every meal made to nourish your body and bring it health, every pencil sharpened and uniform starched to send you off to school with a great start, every spanking or penalty delivered with an aching heart and a sincere desire to instruct. But to know that, even at your worst, you are deeply, selflessly loved. Oh, to be unconditionally loved!

My husband recently lost his mother. They'd always had a "strained relationship," to say the least, but he never saw it coming. Oh, he knew she was dying, but he never knew that the reconciliation would not come. He had tried throughout the years, there had been glimmers of hope. And I don't mean she wasn't trying either, but they never seemed to be able to stay on the same page. He felt wronged. She felt wronged. Each looked for that apology from the other, each gave the other some satisfaction throughout the years, but neither was able to rest in it. Oh, to be completely forgiven!

Feelings can keep us stuck where we don't want to be. "I feel this," or "I feel that," can be some of the most hobbling words. We trust that feeling of boldness over and above the Holy Spirit's direction. We trust that feeling of hopelessness over and above what the Bible says. We don't feel forgiven or loved, so we must not be. The Bible tells us our hearts can deceive us. Proverbs 28:26 says, "He who trusts in his own heart is a fool, but he who walks wisely will be delivered." Why? Because our hearts are impure and self-centered; because our hearts can be filled with all kinds of conflicting information and desires. Jeremiah 17:9 says, "The heart is more deceitful than all else, and desperately sick: who can understand it?" From the time sin entered this world, the heart has been corrupted and has led us astray. History has established the consequences of a heart given too much rein, a heart allowed to determine one's path. King Solomon had a propensity to worship gods -- little "g." Despite this, when God asked Solomon what he wanted, Solomon asked for wisdom to go forth in that to which God had called him, ruling God's people Israel. God rewarded such a humble and sincere request with not only Solomon's desire, but riches and honor, and a long life if he continued to walk in the ways of the Lord. We know the tragic outcome when Solomon followed his heart instead. Solomon was given so much -- and clearly it came from the Lord -- but he chose what he felt over the wisdom he was given.

I don't mean feelings are bad --  they are given by God, but as indicators, like lights on a dashboard. When we feel unloved or unforgiven, we need to seek Truth. And that's not a typo, that's Truth with a capital "T," for Jesus says He is "the Way, the Truth and the Life." (John 14:6) Our feelings may indicate something, but they should not be what drives us, the engine, if you will. And, like lights on a dashboard, our feelings should not be indefinitely ignored. Ever do that thing where you place a gum wrapper over the annoying light there in the corner? Not a good choice. And just because one light might suggest all systems are a go, doesn't mean there's not an underlying problem elsewhere. The absence of the notorious Check Engine light, or the presence of a glowing oil pressure gauge doesn't mean there is fuel in the tank or brakes on the vehicle. Lights can only do what lights are put in place to do -- alert. In fact, it may take lots of time and labor to suss out the real glitch that's causing us to "run a little rough." It takes a professional to diagnose and repair issues that inhibit the performance of a machine, and a good technician will pay a lot of attention to finding additional problems that may have occurred as a result of one small matter allowed to run amok. Are you following the analogy?

My feelings of being unloved for so long. Scott's feelings of being wronged. Were those feelings inaccurate? Maybe not, but living in light of those feelings -- or any other feelings, for that matter -- is not the way we are meant to live. We are meant to seek after Truth. We are meant to surrender our hearts for examination by the One who formed us and knows us better than we know ourselves. He knows how they got that way. He knows what other problems have developed as a result of allowing our feelings to take the helm. He knows how to heal our broken hearts and soften ones turned to stone. He is the Professional, the Designer, the Builder to whom we should be turning when the lights of doubt, or hurt, or satisfaction, or fear, or gratitude, or hopefulness begin to flicker.

Who Is Solving Your Problems?

Our sixteen year old just got a new phone. For a period of time (must've been a full minute and a half) she thought she'd lost games she'd saved from her old phone. She was upset. My crotchety fifty-plus year old mind said, "Let's put this in perspective, shall we? You have a new phone -- a nicer phone than Daddy and I have, we're stuck paying the bill, your crisis was shorter than a Taco Bell commercial, and you've lost games -- not car keys or a debit card, games." But, my crotchety fifty-plus year old mouth said, "You give me your problems and you can have mine." And though I was teasing her a bit, there was a part of me that longed for the advantage of greater perspective and smaller problems.

The Bible is full of people with problems. The second Adam and Eve strayed outside their relationship with God -- problems. Cain disobeyed God, and in a jealous rage killed his brother -- problems. Noah was commissioned to build a vessel so large there was no hiding it from mocking, soon to be deceased friends and family -- problems. Abraham. Joseph. Moses. Samson. Ruth. They all had their problems. The thing that's important about each one's problem is what they did about them. And it's no different for us today.

Look at Hannah in 1 Samuel 1. She has a problem -- a few, as a matter of fact. Hannah has no child. Her husband loves her, provides for her, but there is another woman -- a woman who can bear him children. Oh, and she lets Hannah know it. She rubs it in every chance she gets. So, Hannah goes to the temple and prays; but even the priest at the temple, upon first seeing her fervor, accuses her of being drunk. Hannah makes a vow: If the Lord is willing to give her a child, she will dedicate him in service to the Lord by leaving him at the temple the moment he is weaned. Hannah does have a son. And she keeps her vow, visiting this boy, no longer her child, but God's, once a year.

Fast forward a few years (and turn a few pages to 1 Samuel 13), and that boy, Samuel, is serving the Lord as His prophet. He's got himself a tough customer in Israel's current king -- King Saul. God has given King Saul and the armies of Israel victory after victory in battle. Another one is on the horizon, but Samuel is not around to offer the sacrifice and petition the Lord for favor. King Saul is watching his soldiers weary and his armies begin to disband. Time is of the essence. The enemy is closing in.  The prophet is nowhere to be found. What does the king do? Why, he's a king, he'll offer the sacrifice himself! And he does. Israel is, by God's grace, delivered from the Philistines, but King Saul, in his arrogance and haste, loses the kingdom and curses his own son.

Two situations plagued by problems; two very different solutions. Hannah surrenders; Saul pushes forth in self-sufficiency. Hannah seeks eternity; Saul seeks immediacy. Hannah knows the true joy of giving to the Lord; Saul sees only what he wants for himself. And it's amazing how many of us Christians -- I'm preaching to myself, here -- when faced with a problem, act more like Saul than we do Hannah. We panic and fret, we speed or scheme; we might even tell a "white lie" or two. What are we thinking? If the God we claim to serve can't get us through the "hell" we are going through right now, how can He possibly save us from the Hell the Bible says is saved for those who reject Him? Life is tough, no matter the era, no matter your age, no matter your economic rank, no matter your level of education... We all have problems, and until we get to heaven, we always will. (As our pastor says, "You won't find that on a refrigerator magnet.") The important thing is Who provides the solution.

Anger and a Hardened Heart

My five-year old daughter was sitting on the floor. It was the night before Thanksgiving. Work was gearing up for the busiest time of the year. I was heading in for my last quiet shift before the crazy. My son was at Mom's, helping to prepare the meal she'd serve on her fine china the following day.

"I won't be there," I heard the voice say.

"What do you mean?" I asked. "Christine is dressed for bed, playing with her dolls on the floor!"

"Yeah, you'll have to take her to your mom's."

"My mom is not my sitter, she hasn't been feeling well, she's cooking Thanksgiving dinner and she's got Steven there already! It's getting late, and I'm supposed to drag this child out and just dump her off on my mom's doorstep? You were supposed to be here thirty minutes ago. I'm going to be late for work!"

"I won't be there." And the voice was gone.

I was right. My anger was just. My intense desire to strangle someone was wrong.

People don't always do what we expect or what we'd like. Sometimes people are just downright spiteful and mean. Sometimes people betray our trust in ways they can never repair. Sometimes people take things from us they can never replace. Sometimes people hurt those we love.  But, we aren't responsible for them; we are responsible for us.

I mastered in The Art of Sarcasm. My tongue has eviscerated people over the years -- not to mention gotten me into trouble a time or two. I have made bad situations worse and I have annihilated relationships. Until, one day, a pastor said to me, "You know, sarcasm is just another form of anger." I can't say I ran to the Scriptures or repented right there -- no doubt I gave him some snarky answer -- but, praise God, it stuck with me. The idea of being an angry Christian kept gnawing at me. Eventually, I did a couple of studies on anger and, once again, no instantaneous transformation; but I am being changed by the Holy Spirit and the Word of God.

Ephesians 4:26, cautions us against sin that results from anger. In this world we have difficulties and, by extension, difficult people. People can really be hateful toward one another. But, as Christians, that is not who we are. That is not who we have to be.

But, if we don't come right back at them, we become doormats. We're supposed to let everyone just walk all over us?! Not what I said. My anger kept people away, that's for sure; but locks keep honest people out. Kind people, loving people respected the walls I'd set up. They'd try to minister to my soul -- and a part of me wanted them to, I needed them to -- but eventually, they'd stop calling, stop trying to scale those ever-thickening walls. The users and thieves just kept coming. And, in reality, I don't care how big and bad you are, there is always someone bigger and badder. There was always something or someone to test me.

So what are we supposed to do? Trust God. First of all, if you think God has no idea what's going on, you don't know God. Secondly, if you don't think God is able to deliver you from a situation, you don't know God. Explore the Scriptures and find out who God is. The Bible is not just a book of old stories or rules to strive toward obeying; the Bible reveals who God is that we might serve Him with our whole hearts, and that we might be assured of what He can and will do. We are not to worry because, God. We are not to fight because, God. We can pray for those who hurt us because, God. We do not sin when we are tempted because, God. To put it another way, IF Almighty God is my provider, IF Almighty God is my protector, IF Almighty God is my defender, IF Almighty God is my deliverer -- why am I still in turmoil because someone damaged my car? God will take care of me. Why am I terrified because someone threatens my life? God has my days numbered. Why do I care about someone who is trying to ruin my reputation? My successes and failures lie in God's hands. Why am I infuriated by someone who wants to constantly keep me on the ropes? God will get His glory from that situation if I yield to Him and He will deliver me from it in His time. AND I WILL BE BLESSED!!

I remember that Thanksgiving Eve as if it was yesterday. It broke my heart for my children. It hurt to find this person would not only make things so difficult for me, but would have so little regard for my children or my mother. And I was absolutely right to be angry, but what haunts me today is my sin. I didn't strangle him, but I certainly blasted into him, making a bad situation worse. I spoke of it in front of my children, putting them in a terrible position and hurting them more than anyone else had. I held it against this person for years, and regurgitated the details more than once. When, instead, I could have prayed for my children, for wisdom, for my busy Mom, for him. Praise God, I can today.

Learning Grace

Losing someone you love is never easy. Losing someone with whom you've had a difficult relationship may be even harder. So many unanswered questions remain that way, and the potential for reconciliation is buried as far below the soil as the departed. And, while this could be one of those "Life's too short to stay at odds" messages, it is not. Some people, try as we might, refuse to simply play nice. We can be gracious, we can forgive, we can even forget; but until something changes about the way this person thinks and behaves, we cannot have a relationship.

I've been in such a place. Mere days before it was too late, I tried again to be nice. I tried again to serve in love. No go. This person wanted to punish me for things I had done years before, things I had done in response to something they had done, things I'd done as a youth, things I'd done when I wasn't serving the Lord. And as I left that hospital one last time, tears of anguish and frustration ran hot down my cheeks. Slamming the door of my truck, I wept and gasped for air. What had I done that was not forgivable? Why wasn't I worth forgiveness? Why, in their very last moments on earth, would they not release me from the burden I bore?

"When you finally learn a person's behavior has more to do with their own internal struggle than it ever did with you, you learn grace."

I saw this quote recently, and I just love it! Such freedom in these words. Our pastor is constantly reminding us, "It's not about me." Offense comes when we think it is about us. The guy who cut us off, the friend who didn't invite us. Maybe it was a mistake, maybe it was an oversight, or maybe it was something they were going through.

In my thirties I was in an awful marriage made even more awful by addiction. The stress took its toll on me in every way possible -- my health, my job, my parenting, my friendships. The ways I let people down are myriad. The deceitful things I did in the name of survival are an anathema to me. All I had to do was get out, but I was bound by shame and fear. I was engaged daily in a battle between doing what I knew was right or doing what I thought was the only thing possible. By God's grace, just before my fortieth birthday, something "clicked." I couldn't be responsible for the things my spouse did, but it was high time I started being responsible for mine. I went to counseling, I searched the Scriptures. Slowly the shame and fear retreated, and my internal struggle was laid at the feet of an Almighty God who loves me and forgives me infinitely. Grace. As much as I wanted my marriage to work, his internal struggle was not to be abandoned. Grace. I worked hard to restore some of the relationships I'd sacrificed during my marriage. Some folks understood and remain my friends today; others chose not to have a relationship with me. Grace. And it was only a few years later, I stood by that hospital bed praying, even for those last moments, I could have a relationship with one who had so completely rejected me. Grace. I needed it; I needed to give it.

When we bear in mind the commandments -- to love the Lord with all our heart, mind, soul, and strength, and to love others as we love our-self -- grace becomes a big piece of that pursuit. Seeking to love the Lord, thereby loving others in such a way that their treatment of us has no bearing on our gentleness toward them. Seeking to love the Lord, thereby loving others in such a way that we can pray for them, for their healing and their peace. And, while the relationship may never be what we desire, while the reconciliation may never come, we demonstrate grace. We remember it is not about us. And we embrace grace for ourselves. The grace to say, "I may not have always gotten it right, but I tried, and I pray, by God's grace, I added nothing to this person's burden, but bore it instead."

Things to Remember

Every culture has its ceremonies and traditions. We even choose to keep symbols of those ceremonies with us for years. We preserve wedding gowns and flowers, keep birthday cards or funeral cards. Those things remind us of the commitments we make and the loves we may have lost. Each time we come across the necklace worn on that first date, or our high school yearbook (yikes!), or her favorite picture of you, or that one ornament Mom always saved for last on the tree, memories and emotions swirl about in a torrent of days past. But symbols and ceremonies are just that. They are not the essence of the commitment, or the relationship, or even the memories themselves. They are reminders, tangibles to help us remain a little closer to the intangible.

Religions throughout the world have remembrances and symbols of remembrance. The Christian faith does as well. But unlike religion, the Christian faith understands none of those ceremonies or relics have any power to save us from what really troubles each and everyone of us -- sin. And though faith in Jesus Christ has a life-altering result, it is not propagated by changing our lives at all. The observances and Ebeneezers, the crosses we wear, or the baptismal certificate we cherish are reminders of the grace and mercy we encounter daily and, as such, can be catalysts to change.

For instance, a tithe, when multiplied and blessed by God, feeds those who are unable to feed themselves -- for a meal, for a week, for months on end. A tithe can clothe others, keep the lights on at the church or at the home of someone in the community; a tithe can pay the salary of a worship leader who just lost his second job. A tithe can put fuel in the car of a guest speaker, traveling from out of town. Giving a tithe -- despite the paycheck which may have shown up a little on the lean side this week -- can be the proving ground upon which God further changes a heart. A tithe can be the means by which God allows me to serve others by serving Him.

The Bible itself is not some coffee table decoration that mystically brings blessing to our home. When opened and read, as it should be, it is the primary way in which God explicitly reveals Himself to everyone. 2 Timothy 3:16-17 declares:

"All Scripture is inspired by God and profitable for teaching, for reproof, for correction, for training in righteousness; so that the man of God may be adequate, equipped for every good work."

We learn; we correct ourselves and others -- in love, underscoring the need of every human being for a holy God and His work of grace. We discover and form the habits that characterize a life transformed by the righteousness of Jesus Christ. Bible study equips us in the purposes for which we were called. It is instrumental in the Holy Spirit's sanctifying work, revealing His truth and providing direction so we may know and desire change as the Bible describes it. And the cover of my Bible has handy-dandy zippered pouches, perfect for storing gum to share with others, a few extra dollars for any special needs I am led to meet, an extra pen, a highlighter, Chapstick (gotta have Chapstick stashed everywhere!), and White Out for my mistakes -- just the ones on paper.

Church is essential. I don't care, I don't care. Whatever you've heard. Whatever you surmise. Whatever your past experience. Whatever your uncle's past experience. Whoever you know or think you know. You MUST...go...to...church. If you want to be fed, if you want to grow, if you want to be surrounded by love in your worst times as well as on your best days; if you have ever needed anyone for anything -- and you have -- remember the dress you couldn't get zippered, or the jar you couldn't open, or the teenie-tiny hair tie you couldn't fit around Barbie's hair with your big sheet metal worker fingers, or the accounts statement you just couldn't seem to decipher, or the recipe that flopped every time you made it? Well, you must go to church! I was an island FOR YEARS. I taught my children to be islands. I was very good at it, and still could be today, but I was called -- as all Christians are -- to be in fellowship with and minister to people. And I would never want to be an island EVER again. I have been so blessed -- by the broken as well as the whole, by the lost as well as the found, by those I've struggled along with as well as those I've struggled because of; by the prayers of those desperate for healing, by the surrender of those at the height of their careers, by the toil of those who I believe need to be served, by strangers willing to love others for their singularity of worship rather than dismiss others because of their excess of glaring differences. And it is my deepest of desires and my offering to bless others as well. The best place to get started is in a pew.

None of these things, in and of themselves, identifies me as being a Christian. And they don't make me super-spiritual or good. They are, after all, just things. But they are things that are precious to me because of what they represent: my life in Christ. They are things that help me bless others and receive blessing. They are things that help me learn and grow in my walk with Jesus. They are things I value, not because that's what good Christian girls do; but because people good at being alone, people not so good at giving to others, people who are easily derailed and discouraged need these things to help them walk communally, unselfishly, purposefully, and with hope.

Mom and Dad, Cut Yourself a Break

I saw a quote the other day:

"Your children are the greatest gift God will give to you, and their souls the heaviest responsibility He will place in your hands. Take time with them, teach them to have faith in God. Be a person in whom they can have faith. When you are old, nothing else you've done will have mattered as much." 

What do you think when you read those words? If your children are grown, perhaps you are basking in the light of a job well done; perhaps you are tallying all your mistakes and regrets. If you have children at home, you might be compiling a list of things to change about the way you parent right now; perhaps your heart ponders the sentiment, swelling with love for the souls in your care. Wherever you are in your parenting (or nannying, or grandparenting, or mentoring) role, perspective is so important.

Who better to learn from than Mary, the mother of Jesus? What an amazing woman of faith! What an icon of spirituality! What a flawed and immature human being. We first meet Mary, a young woman -- some say as young as thirteen -- living a quiet life, engaged to a man most believe to be considerably older. Suddenly, an angel appears; she responds with unimaginable affirmation, speaks ten of the most beautiful verses recorded in Scripture, and months later, she delivers the Savior of the world! Talk about your meteoric rise from anonymity! And pressure? Who can imagine what she felt, trying to keep the Messiah safe from colds and broken teeth. Had she taught Him enough about stranger danger? Was He getting enough protein in His diet?

Perspective. It seemed to be God's plan for Jesus to be raised by average, imperfect people who didn't always get it right -- as children of God or as parents -- in a typical home with a roof that may have leaked on occasion.

Twelve years after Jesus' birth, the family had taken the annual trip to Jerusalem for Passover (Luke 2:40-52). As they were traveling home, Joseph and Mary discovered Jesus was not in the caravan. They returned to the city, and found Him three days later, in the synagogue. Upon finding Him, Mary scolded, "Why did You do this to us?!" But, this twelve-year old boy with an interest in His Father's business had done nothing to them. He had not spitefully or maliciously strayed from them. None of this was about her! And neither is/ was the care of our own children. When we have the right perspective -- that we are serving God, raising souls He has placed in our care, privileged to watch as God works in their lives -- it becomes abundantly clear it is not about us.

Years later, a wedding in Cana (John 2:1-11). The wine had run out. For whatever reason, Mary had taken it upon herself to make it her problem. And, by extension, Jesus' problem. How often do we as parents take on more responsibility than we should, filling our calendars with ways to serve at church or on the PTO, and our children get caught up in the crossfire? They need help with a week old assignment due tomorrow, and we snap. A teachable moment, and we lose our cool -- not because it warrants that sort of response, but because we've strayed from our lane, bearing burdens that were never ours to bear, and our children have come to us with theirs. We've lost our perspective. Our responsibility to them has taken a back seat to our desire to "get involved" (with things we, maybe, were never led to be involved with in the first place).

The three-year long ministry of Jesus didn't stop Mary's involvement in her son's life. In Mark 3, we read that Jesus was having some trouble with, not only the religious factions of His day, but His own kinsmen. They thought He was nuts! Mary and Jesus' brothers are included in the scene a few verses later. Did she, too, think He was crazy? Was she present to take Him away to roam the cemeteries like the rest of the possessed or mentally ill? Or was she there to see no harm would come to Him, to whisk Him away to a place safe from negative public opinion or the consequences of being some sort of heretic? As parents we want our children to live in a spotless environment, go to the best schools, meet the right person, choose the best careers. As parents we see the perils of this world lying in wait to derail our children from the plans we have for them. But are they God's plans? Looking back on my own youth, I see just how messed up my childhood was. My parents failed -- they were supposed to; they are human. But God integrates every single foible, every hiccup into His plan, makes it a part of who we are and how our story brings Him glory -- no matter what we perceive as right, or just, or appropriate.

Read the words above again, this time with perspective. We bear a heavy responsibility as parents. But that responsibility was a part of God's plan for a very long time; He is not ignorant of its dynamics. And it comes with grace -- His grace. And lots and lots of it!

A Modern Day Parable

Parables. Jesus used them to teach during His ministry on earth. We find many of them recorded in Scripture. And, I believe, we can find them in the world around us today.

For instance, I arose this morning, ready to celebrate the Lord with my church family. I'd gotten to bed nice and early; woke up with little to no pain. It was gonna be a great day. Until I heard it. Someone had thrown up in the wee hours of the morning. I rushed to the room, cleaned up the offender, and hauled the sheets to the basement. "I'll wash them when we get back from church," I thought. The dog barked; she wanted out. Multiple pairs of feet followed me back up the steps. My entourage -- always close, always looking for food, or entertainment, or instruction. As I was closing the door to the backyard, I heard Mom. She was standing in the hall, hair a mess, comb in hand, and every light still burning in her room. I looked past her to the mermaid blanket on the living room floor. The dog barked; she wanted in. Time to get breakfast on the table. I tripped over one, bumped into another. "Please, everyone, go sit in your spots." Graham crackers with peanut butter, bananas, and string cheese. Not exactly a cover shot for Bon Apetit, but nutritionally sound, all things considered. The dog barked; she wanted out. Mom was especially agitated today, like a drunk girl from Delco. She sat there in mismatched pajamas and the cheap "SEXY" necklace one of the children had picked up from a doctor's office treasure box. She didn't like the coffee, didn't like the oatmeal, pleaded to run the vacuum, and was mystified by the embellishment on the cover of my devotional. The melodies of Crowder, Lauren Daigle, and Zach Williams drifted through the kitchen, adding to the chaos or bringing a calming presence, I wasn't sure which. The dog barked; she wanted in.

Once upon a time, however, things were very different. I'd wake up on a Sunday morning, not at all eager to sit in any pew. Chances are, I'd caught a buzz the night before and the greatest pain I felt lay deep within my soul. Another day, another failed attempt to make everything look flawless and effortless. I'd grind some beans and brew myself the perfect cup of coffee, look around at my immaculate living room and impeccably positioned blinds. No toys lying about; they were all stowed safely, for the most part, within the boxes in which they'd come. Not one block had been lost, not one broken wheel survived the trip back into its proper place. "Nothing lost. Nothing broken," I thought. I'd pat myself on the back for the fine job I was doing as a wife and mother; but inside I felt like such a failure. The house would remain still until the children would rise, bickering and sniping at one another. I'd snap, refusing to spend another minute listening to their animosity; but I did nothing to change it, and it never changed. Breakfast was homemade waffles and jam, bacon, fruit compote, and milk. Just like all good mothers made their perfect little families. The kids would slather greasy butter over it all, pouring syrup and sticking jam everywhere. "Can't you all just act right?!" I'd sit there in my silky robe wondering when I would just get it right. "Nothing lost. Nothing broken," I'd wish. The pain deep within would throb, and the bickering and sniping would start once again.

Two very different times in my life, but in them I see a parable. A parable of life receiving and showing grace, versus a life of trying to get it all right in my own strength. A life in which my focus remains on a God who, everyday, is bringing us through the valleys, over the mountaintops, and through the valleys as they appear again on the landscape of our life. No longer the life in which I focused solely on my wanderings in the flat, dry desert of a self-centered soul. The life I lived many years ago was a life of emptiness, unforgiveness, legalism, fear, and foolishness. I was kidding myself to think I could even know how it should look, much less have the ability to make it look that way. But the life I have been given, the life in which I am surrounded by people at all different stages of their destinies -- some walking out their steps as God has ordered them, or just discovering what God has purposed for them, or even rejecting what He has said -- this is a full life. And this life is not a life in which I see myself as the principle player. Others are surrounded as well by me and thousands of  "mes" all in different stages of our destinies. The parable of a house built on sand, and a house built on a rock -- The Rock. Perhaps it's not such a modern day parable after all.

Fearless and Self-Controlled

One night at work, I encountered a smoking package. While hazardous material clean-ups were in my job description, this one probably warranted a call to the local fire department. Instead, I placed it on a cart and gingerly walked it to the farthest region of the property where I allowed it to "do its thing." Its thing ended about two in the morning when we learned it was some sort of compound that had baked and hardened when it came in contact with a catalyst. Water? Heat? Who knew? But once it cooled to the touch I brought it back into our building and began the paperwork. "Judi, you are absolutely fearless," a coworker said. To the casual observer, perhaps, but on a personal level I was going through one of the most frightening periods of my life. Pressure mounted to the point I couldn't stand another criticism, another suggestion, another word of advice, another deadline. I believed I was constantly under attack, and like a cornered animal, I would strike out thoughtlessly and unpredictably at the very people who were trying to help. I thought my abrasive, and even, offensive exterior would mask the fear that was consuming me.

Lately, I have been doing my daily devotions from a book that is not my usual fare, but it has just ministered to me during this season. God is marvelous that way! Tuesday's topic was "Fear," and the verse was 2 Timothy 1:7:

"God gave us His Spirit. And the Spirit doesn't make us weak and fearful. Instead, the Spirit gives us power and love. He helps us control ourselves."

I knew this verse. I'd read it a dozen times before, even memorized it from the King James. But, this time I "tasted" it:

I am filled with the Holy Spirit. It is the Spirit of God, almighty and powerful. Therefore, I am empowered to do things for the kingdom, things like love. I can love my enemies. I can love those whom others want no part of. I can love those who use me or dismiss me. I can do that because the Holy Spirit bears fruit in me, the fruit of self-control.

That's where God continued to teach me. Fear is a self-preservation mechanism. Fear is based on a perception my very self is in danger; fear is self-focused. All those things that make up who I am -- my hopes, my opinions, my habits -- all those things could be taken from me or altered by people who challenge my time, or my money, or my privacy, or my health, or my position. Fear is knowing that possibility exists and focusing on the "me" that could be lost were this to happen. Not convinced?

What happens when you get the news they're cutting jobs in your office? Or you discover your 14-year old daughter is pregnant? Or your husband is given months to live? Or your sister with dementia can no longer be left alone? Can you feel the panic take your breath? "What ifs" streak through your mind, making your prayers seem to go no further than the ceiling. Can you feel your dreams slipping through your fingers? This is going to change the life you've grown to love. This is going to be uncomfortable. This could ruin everything.

2 Timothy 1:7, however, tells us that the Holy Spirit has been given to believers. It is the very Spirit of the Creator, the good and sovereign God, Jehovah Jireh. It is that Spirit in me that yields self-control. My self is brought under submission that I might go where God wants me to go. My self is of no significance, that I might do what God wants me to do. My self is crucified that I might fulfill the plans God has for me to fulfill. Even if it changes my hopes, my opinions, my habits. Even if it changes who I am -- and, hopefully, it will!

The Christian life is not always the quiet, safe one. The martyrs of centuries past testify to that. But when we allow the Spirit to direct our steps, when we seek to honor the King of kings, fear gives way. The Holy Spirit brings self under control that we might serve people in the worst neighborhoods, love people who may abandon us, minister to those with the deadliest diseases, or simply tell our story -- every wretched or embarrassing detail -- to someone who needs to know what God can do for them. When we know we are safe to love, to risk, to fail, even to give all we have for His glory, that's when things really begin to change -- even our selves.

I Love You, Pookie

I'd say, "Life is funny," but that would be pointing to some abstract, fatalistic idea that life's twists and turns are somehow random or determined by chance. God determines our steps. God holds all of life in His hands. It's just that sometimes He has a very strange -- to us -- way of doing it.

I have spent the last day and a half weeping. On Saturday night, I lost a coworker. He and I had worked together for more than seventeen years; we'd known one another much longer. And though time was responsible for seasoning our relationship, time or chance was not responsible for the depth of friendship we experienced.

When I transferred into John's department years ago, I considered myself to be pretty good at my job. I'd already been with the company many years, and I was reliable and conscientious. After my transfer, I realized just how little I knew. This department was an entirely different world, and John was king of it. He'd been there longer than many of the folks who worked beside him and above him. He knew his job backwards and forwards. He could to get to the root of an issue with a few specific, direct questions, and that same skill enabled him to problem solve just as succinctly. He knew how to give an order and make people follow it. He was one of the quietest people in the room but his presence loomed larger than anyone else's.

I admired those qualities. And I resented them. John could make me feel small with little more than a look. Everything I said or did he retained in some dark corner of his mind for use at the most inconvenient (for me)/ opportune (for him) moments, moments he used to call me out -- publicly. He was gruff, sinister, inappropriate, and downright rude. Banging the phone on people was his trademark, and I used to wish he would one day do it to someone with the power to threaten his job and put him in his place. He could go for days without speaking to anyone, and I went day after day wishing he'd never speak to me again. Every confrontation with him left me feeling completely stupid or insignificant. This was John's world, and he reluctantly tolerated the rest of us in it.

Some time ago, as I was driving home and tears of frustration were, once again, pouring down my face, a strange thought occurred to me: Every time you call out of work, John spends days "punishing" you by only speaking harshly to you, only pointing out your flaws; but every time he's bragging on himself, he says he could do all without you -- he can't have it both ways! I was either valuable to him, or worthless. So which was it? Well, I'd learned a long time ago to put more stock in what people do than in what they say. So, that was it; I chose to believe I was valuable! And I began praying. Lord, if I am to stay here and do this job, You're going to have to handle John, or You're going to have to handle me.

God did both, I'm sure of it. Suddenly, I didn't dread going into work anymore. Suddenly, John was smiling more. Suddenly, I began praying for John because I cared about him. Suddenly, John began speaking a little more softly and entrusting me with more. Suddenly, I saw it as a challenge to get something done before he noticed or before he got the chance to do it himself. Suddenly, John spent the wee hours of the morning joking with me and poking fun. Suddenly, it was fun.

I'll refrain from playing armchair psychologist, except to say, John and I were more alike than we were different. I truly wished for him the joy and peace that I found because of Jesus Christ. I don't know if that ever happened for him. I do know, the man who once was my thorn, my nemesis, was the man I'd grown to love and care for as a friend. The man who made my job unbearable, had mellowed and matured to become one of the primary reasons I went to work each day. The man I'd grown to respect and rely on as my boss, to cherish like a brother, the man who protected me and challenged me, the man who had respect for me but kept me striving to earn it by never letting me know it was there -- is gone. I will never again play "movie quotes" with him (I was terrible, but he always gave me mulligans). I will never again allow -- though I secretly cringed at -- his irreverent, offensive sense of humor. I will never again find my desk drawer filled with thousands of sugar packets or paperclips. I will never again complain about the earworms he loved to play, while smirking behind my computer monitor at the way it made him giggle. I will never again say those words, the words I once spoke sarcastically but came to deeply mean, the words that he would never admit made him smile (but I know they did):

"I love you, Pookie."

 

The Extra Chair from the Basement

I think every family has one. Maybe it's in the office or the spare bedroom -- wherever. It's the chair we pull out when we've got an extra mouth to feed. "Get the extra chair from the basement," someone yells, and we sit it right alongside the rest of the chairs at our table. We welcome our guest to eat whatever is served, as much as they'd like, and join with us in our conversation, our laughter, our sometimes questionable table manners, our "family time."

Today, the extra chair came out of the basement. Not a huge stretch when you've got a family of six to feed everyday, but it is a blessing when one of yours comes home. Thing is, I hadn't really planned. Last week was a whirlwind of activity and emotion; grocery shopping and meal prep took a backseat to much of what was going on. So, we opened the fridge, surveyed the meager inventory of leftovers, formed a rainbow of plastic containers across the table, and sat down to eat. Not one person went away hungry, and we still had left over leftovers.

Just this morning, I was reading about another dinner guest. In 1 Kings 17:8-16. the prophet Elijah was commanded to leave Brook Cherith and go to Zarephath, about eighty miles away. God had commanded a widow there to provide for him. By the time he arrived, the widow was at the gate of the city, gathering sticks to build a fire. It was to be her last, as the widow and her young son were on the verge of starvation: she was baking one final bread cake and preparing for death. But, Elijah said, (I am paraphrasing) "No worry. Just make my small cake first; then you and your son can eat what's left." What man of God takes the last bit of food from a starving widow and her child?! But there was a promise: "The Lord God of Israel says, 'The bin of flour will not be used up, nor the jar of oil run dry, until the Lord sends rain on the earth.'"

"So, she went away and did according to the word of Elijah." And what was the result? "She and he and her household ate for many days. The bin of flour was not used up, nor did the jar of oil run dry." Because of her obedience? Obey and be blessed, right? Yes, but let's not be simplistic. This poor woman got "the extra chair from the basement." She didn't question Elijah's presence. Why in the world would God send to her, a widow, another mouth to feed?! Widows were typically cared for -- not the other way around. And there was a famine in her land! We don't see a struggle over the jar of oil. That handful of flour, the puddle of oil in the bottom of her jar, were all that stood between her son and death! Who was this man to take that from her? But she held it all loosely. Like the widow in Luke 21:1-4 -- "she, out of her poverty, put in all the livelihood she had."

You know, when I'd first read the widow's response to Elijah's request, I'd thought of it as a bit of refusal; but perhaps it was more like this: "When your God first told me to provide for you, I wanted to -- I really did. But that was so long ago. You took so long in getting here, and things took such a turn for the worse, I've got nothing left. How am I to help when I have so little that I am planning my death and the death of my son?" None of that came as any surprise to God, however. The widow's willingness to care for others, despite her material circumstances, created the opportunity for God to provide for her and all that were in her home.

Today, a blessing in our home brought "the extra chair from the basement." When hearts are willing and hands are open, that extra chair can bring blessing for many days.

A Quiet Place of Grace

Early one morning, I found myself sitting in my truck alongside a dark, winding airport road. I'd called roadside service and received the usual song and dance about extremely high caller volume and abnormally long wait times. I didn't believe it. I've gotten a lot of use out of my membership through the years, and never waited more than an hour. So, at first, I sort of did nothing -- filed a rough fingernail, checked out the contents of my glove box, listened to the sounds of the road. But time went on, and I began to think, maybe there was something to this whole "abnormally long wait time" thing.

Why was I here? Why, just two miles down the road, were my coworkers doing something -- my work -- yet I was doing nothing? Why had I gotten dressed, out the door, wasted fuel, only to sit here? What would I do if I needed a bathroom? Questions I couldn't answer or, in the case of the last one, didn't want to think about. So, I began to pray. When I'm having trouble going to sleep some nights, I pray the alphabet. I begin with one friend or situation starting with "A", and keep on going, letter by letter, until I fall asleep. (If your name is Vivian or Zelda, I apologize; I rarely make it past "G".) This morning I made it all the way to "Z", and still no tow.

Every life, every season needs prayer, but this season of our life seems to require more than others. So, I began praying specifically for our situation, the folks directly affected in it, those we have met along the way, those who will be involved in the future, and so forth. When I got to some personal things, I asked that God would not allow others to see my failures and shortcomings, that they would not be dissuaded from following the Lord because of my screw-ups. "Hide my inadequacy that You might be better glorified and many would come to know You." God responded faster than that tow!

Through the darkness of my situation, above the chirp of crickets I heard the words of Paul:

"And He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.'"  -- 2 Corinthians 12:9a

Had Paul prayed as I had? Was he asking God to remove his "thorn in the flesh" not that he might be more comfortable or carry on the ministry with more vigor, but that others might not see his weakness or deficiency and reject God because of it?

I know what it's like to live with hypocrisy. My children know what it's like to live with hypocrisy. And it can be devastating to the truth of the gospel. I'm sure Paul, as a former Pharisee, was extremely sensitive to pietism -- especially his own. I'm sure he would rather have lost a limb than known a soul was repulsed because of any perceived duplicity or incongruency on his part. What if Paul had a tendency to be persistent when the situation required a bit more compassion? What if Paul's patience was perceived by others as being "soft" on bad behavior -- tolerant even? Perhaps Paul was a bit of an over eater. Imagine how such a habit might have plagued him to the point of begging God to remove it -- for the sake of the gospel. But God said, "No."

It's not about me. Or my inadequacy. Or even my sin. It's about the grace of God revealed in our worst moments as well as our best. If others can see what a control freak I can be at times and know that Jesus loves me enough to put me in situations that are completely out of my control in order to make me more like Him -- who wouldn't want to follow a Savior like that?! If others know how arrogant I can be and witness God humbling me -- and hear testimony of how He continues to humble me -- that I might be the "me" He designed with a purpose -- who wouldn't want to know a God like that?

We may not like our fear of public speaking, or our ineptitude at providing comfort to the grieving, or our short tempers, or our impatience, or our propensity to procrastinate, or any of a multitude of things that discourage us in our ministry, but God is not finished with any one of us yet. He is sanctifying us as we daily relinquish control to Him. He is transforming us as we seek after Him moment by moment. He is speaking to us and teaching us as we pray and sit silently before Him. Along a dark, winding airport road if necessary.