Friday, November 15, 2019

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.

Wednesday, November 13, 2019

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.

Tuesday, November 12, 2019

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.