Jesus Is Not the Best Way

I know I have spoken about Jesus for a while now. I know I have written article after article about how great He is and all He has done; He is worthy of our praise and our obedience. But I want to make one thing very clear. It's something made crystal clear to me just a few days ago:

Jesus is not the best way.

He is not the best way to heaven. He is not the best way to healing. He is not the best way to peace. He is not the best way to joy or holiness or even justice. Jesus is not the best way. Jesus is the ONLY way. And while that may, indeed, make Him the best way secondarily, in the primary sense, the ultimate sense, the most literal sense, Jesus is the ONLY way.

A little while ago, He had me thinking about the quality of my faith. Do I trust Him because there are other options out there, but I know He is the best? Or do I trust Him because I have no other option? (Is it Faith or a Lack of Options?) And when it comes to the reason I trust Him, I believe it should be because, despite other choices, despite other possible avenues, He is my King and He reigns supreme. In other words, I could trust _____ (fill in the blank), but I choose to trust Jesus. However, when it comes to His identity, His authority, His rank, He is my ONLY Salvation, my ONLY Hope, my ONLY Way to restoration and reconciliation with the Father, my ONLY Healer --yes, I said, ONLY Healer. 

I say this because we don't always feel cut off from the Father, do we? We don't always feel the weight of our sin and separation. We don't always feel the need for a Savior, One to deliver us from eternal punishment. Those are things we usually only consider when we are faced with the reality of death --ours or that of someone near. But healing? I think the need for healing is something we all experience. Whether it's healing from sickness and disease, or healing in our relationships, or healing of our finances, or healing in our communities. We all feel the brokenness of life in this world. We all experience litter and poverty and bad news and dead plants and sweat and spoiled milk and high prices. We all have said, from time to time, that we are sick of things the way they are; we long for repair. Jesus.

All of those "other options" are merely bread and water. We eat the bread of our paychecks or our labor in the garden or our handshakes, and life is good for a while. We drink the water of medications or good news or rest, and we are spared. But we will hunger and thirst again. These things are gifts, shadows, temporary remedies for the eternal, spiritual affliction, the curse that besieges us all. The options help us to exist in a world that is dying, prolonging things until the time God has determined. Jesus is our ONLY Salvation --utterly, truly. Jesus is our ONLY Hope --steadfast, eternal. Jesus is our only Way to restoration and Reconciliation --by His design, all-sufficient. And Jesus is our ONLY Healer. Joblessness, injustice, addiction, cancer, contentions, corruption, immorality, unfaithfulness, confusion, gossip, even mold in the shower and fleas on the dog! ONLY Jesus can restore these things to the place, the condition they belong. And while He has commissioned us as His agents --Yes, we have to clean the shower and treat the fleas --He is the ONLY One who can and will one day bring complete healing to our lives. He is the ONLY One upon whom our focus should always, resolutely be fixed.    

Midweek: The Prayer Bible, NIV

In March of last year, I was given the opportunity to review Thomas Nelson's Prayer Bible. It is a beautiful reminder that Scripture should lead us to prayer, turning our focus to our Creator and Redeemer, breaking the terrible habit of reading Scripture with a what's-in-it-for-me mindset. 

This year, I received Thomas Nelson's NIV copy of The Prayer Bible. This particular edition is bound in a black and grey Leathersoft™ and comes with a lifetime guarantee. The text is printed in 8.5-point Comfort Print® with the words of Jesus are in red. It has a lovely presentation page, a satin ribbon bookmark, an introduction to each book of the Bible, and a 365-day reading plan. The back of this edition has a list of prayers from the Bible and articles entitled Why Read the Bible, Steps to Engage, and Scripture Engagement vs. Bible Study. A short essay on Spiritual Disciplines and Scripture Engagement explains just how being immersed in God's Word regularly equips us to apply those things we have gleaned from our reading, for our benefit and God's glory. In addition to these features, the most notable, and the asset for which this book is named, is the distribution of 1200 "prayer prompts" found frequently throughout the text. As we read about the instructions God gave for the building of His tabernacle, we are encouraged to examine our worship and ask God to help us worship in the manner He desires. Throughout the Psalms, prayer prompts challenge us to praise and cry out and repent with the psalmists to draw our heart into worship of and reliance on the Lord for all things. As we read through familiar passages of Scripture, prayer prompts work to slow us down and refocus our attention in novel ways. 

When we read Scripture, we are to apply what we learn and stand on the promises found in God's Word, but the Bible is revelation from Genesis to --well, Revelation. The Bible reveals who God is, and that should cause us to speak to Him and listen for His voice through prayer. Reading Scripture should be a cyclical practice: we pray for the Holy Spirit's guidance as we read, we pray in response to what we've read, and we meditate throughout the day on that. Thomas Nelson's The Prayer Bible is a wonderful way to begin and continue to engage in that habit. 

The copy I received gratis retails $59.99, but Amazon is currently listing it for $41.98, and Christianbook.com for $35.99 

At the Intersection of the Tragic and the Glorious

Let me first say that any death has an element of tragedy attached to it. The death of a human being, no matter how old or sick, even the death of an unrepentant serial rapist or a child murderer on death row --it's all tragic. A consequence of sin and disobedience. But we have expectations as a society. Our children should outlive us. People we love do not suffer in death; they go ready, peacefully in their sleep, not languishing in excruciating pain month after month. And people who do good, people who serve with love die quietly, contentedly in old age, their mission complete.

I watched, this morning, as my husband bid me Goodbye from the end of the yard, exaggerated waves with his whole arm and blowing kisses back and forth as we do. To imagine him never doing this again, going off to work as he's done thousands of days before, but not returning because someone wants him to die... Unthinkable. My husband does not have a public platform. My husband does not lock up dangerous criminals or guard them in prison. My husband does not refuse people a refund at Walmart or audit their taxes. My husband does not do any of those things that you might think would make him enemies. But our society has become such that all you have to do is ride a train, go to your job, disagree, gather for prayer, look different, or be of a certain faction, and you are vulnerable. Depravity.

But God. There's a song that says, "You take what the Enemy meant for evil, and You turned it for good." In fact, I woke up with that very song in my head today; but I'm not entirely sure that's true. Genesis 50:20 records Joseph's words to his scheming brothers as they realize how much power he now wields over them. They stand before him, sure he will seek retribution; but Joseph says, "But as for you, you meant evil against me; but God meant it for good, in order to bring it about as it is this day, to save many people alive." That word --meant; in Hebrew, it is hasab, and it is used twice in this verse; with regard to his brothers' plans and with regard to God's. Yes, God's plan, God's meaning. In the same way betrayal and disappearance were the intent of Joseph's brothers. When the slave traders rode away with Joseph, when the brothers soaked that beautiful coat with animal blood and presented it to their father, God did not wring His hands and say, "Now what do I do?" He didn't see it coming days or even decades before, hatch a plan and alter circumstances. He intended with the same focus on intent --but more perfectly --than the brothers intended. God intended good and masterfully used the evil of men to bring it about.

So, back to life --and death --here in the twenty-first century. We all know tomorrow isn't promised. We recognize the hatred and darkness that exists in our world. We will die, those we love will die, and some of those deaths will most likely be in stark contrast to our expectations. We will grieve. Perhaps, heavily. But those who trust in the Lord will be able to look past the sadness --even in those moments when death has barely turned from our door to be on its way elsewhere. We will be able to look past the sadness and past the grief to the Living Hope who sustains us, promises to grant us something much better, and keeps His word. We will rest in the assurance that He intends to use the very evil the prince of this world intends to destroy us, for His glory and our good! Even when our expectations are not met, we can grieve the tragic but take consolation in the glory that is to come!

"Evidence of This"

Once you've had a Caesarean, you'll always have a Caesarean. That used to be the case, but not since the '90s. I delivered two children, very differently. Still, they both nursed at my breasts. They both looked up, their eyes meeting mine. And in the case of my daughter, my eyes meeting mine.

It's a package deal; love me, love my children. Again, there are lessons to be learned. It's not as easy as it sounds and, sometimes --at least in my case --it's more like Love my dad, so I'll love you. Despite the relatively small hiccups and personality conflicts that occur in even biological families, my stepchildren showed me much grace and acceptance.

Family isn't made from blood; it's made from love. Even when a child has been so broken by pain and fallen relationships and "care" and dashed hopes that love is little more than the happiness he feels when he gets his way? Even when familial similarity stops at the very basic: two eyes, two arms, ten toes? Even when you not only fail to see your wife's trademark red hair or your husband's dimpled chin, but you have nothing to tether him to ancestors arriving at Ellis Island? Even when you clearly look sixty and your ten-year old calls you Mom? (In a world of opioid addiction and mental illness, I feel the hesitation as people attempt --wrongly --to connect the dots. Pity because my child's inability to parent has saddled me with caring for a child when I should be enjoying the "golden years" of retirement. Or judgment: What sort of mother must she have been?) This can be the daily exercise of adoption.

A friend's daughter-in-law, Natalie, was kind enough to share her thoughts and a beautiful song as she worked through the hard road of infertility and the abundant gift of adoption. You might never see yourself in your children, but when you look into their eyes, you will see the image of God. That is just a bit of her message; I encourage you to click the link and be blessed. But as I listened to the words God placed on her heart, I realized how God has mercifully used the chaos and disobedience of my story to teach me and bless me. I realized how much I had taken for granted: the ability to have children and the gift of looking into my own eyes; the grace of receiving the love of children who did not depend on me, who didn't "have to" love me but loved me anyway; and the joy and the privilege of being able to discover all the gold He has placed inside each of the children He has placed in my life. Every face into which I am granted a look is evidence of His hand on my life and the lives of those around me. And I cannot say it any better than God has said it through this young mother.

 

Midweek: Anniversary (2013)

Tomorrow marks the anniversary of the attacks of 9/11 (2001). There was a time it was known as Patriot Day. Other folks once referred to it as First Responders' Day. My phone's calendar has a big empty box. Lots of space for me to make notes about pick-up times or an end of season trip to the beach. No word about lives lost or the evil that was done that day. And while our short memories are disturbing, what is more disturbing is the churches that were full in those days now limp along, trying to keep the lights on. What is more disturbing is, those who put their trust in a holy God to provide comfort and guidance during difficult days are quite hellbent (literally) on living life their own way and even denying His existence.

I pray tomorrow's anniversary would be a call to many to remember not only the events of that tragic day, but to seek the God who was with us in our grief and shock. Please allow this reprint from 2013 to remind you of God's faithfulness.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Where were you?" 

There aren't too many of us who, on this day, need an explanation. Some were standing in line at Starbucks, manically checking their watches. Some were breathing a sigh of relief after waving a rowdy brood off on the school bus. Those of us from the night shift were slumbering blissfully. And others? Well, we know.

"But where was God?"

I have been asked that question a few times since 9/11. The 2004 Indian Ocean tsunami. Hurricane Katrina. Moore, OK. Big theology for such a tiny blog. But here's how I see it.

He was on His throne, just where he was when the sun was peeking above the horizon that morning; when birds were trilling and the skies were bathed in color. He was keeping His eye on us, just as He was the day that really nice guy from the towing company helped you change that flat and get you to your sister's wedding in time. He was as generous as the day you bought that house for a steal, or found the $20 when you were low on gas. He was just as sovereign as the day you landed that great job, or got an A+ on your math test, or asked her to marry you (and she said "Yes!"). He had a plan, just as He did the day Hitler committed suicide in that bunker, or Nelson Mandela was born. He was with those who perished that day, just as He was the first time you heard the cry of your perfectly healthy baby boy. And He is with you today, even as you doubt His existence or His power or His love for you...just as He was the day you somehow decided He wasn't. 

So, when all the cool stuff was happening...

"Where were you?"

Learning from the Experts

"Look at that trash," I thought to myself as we headed out to school. A second look assured me that was not trash. "That's a fawn!" I exclaimed.

"Huh?" grunted our youngest from the backseat.

"It's a fawn! Right there on the sidewalk! It's just lying there!"

"It's dead?"

"No! Its head is up. But it might be hit."

I immediately began dialing Animal Control. Once I was able to get through, they directed me to the Fish and Game Commission. As I excitedly explained our discovery to the officer on the other end of the line, my mind was racing. What if the fawn tried to cross the busy street? What if children walking to school tried to touch it? What if a dog out for its walk got away from its owner and...? How do I get it into my truck? Where on earth do I take it?

"Fawns are so tiny, they can't keep up. So, Mama leaves her little one in a place she believes they will be safe. Mamas usually return within eight hours of leaving their fawns." It wasn't the officer's words as much as her tone that was so reassuring. As I thanked her and hung up, my mind began racing again. How is the side of a busy road safe? She certainly gave me an answer quickly, though. How long had the fawn been there already? Surely, Fish and Game know what they're talking about. Eight hours! Anything could happen in eight hours! If Mama was going about her business at night, though, she should be back soon. 

"How do they know?" came the voice from the backseat again. And that's when I realized what a teachable moment this was, a moment that was less about a fawn and more about what this encounter was teaching our son.

"They study does," I answered, and from there used the opportunity to teach this young man the importance of paying attention. "If we want to be like Jesus, we have to read our Bibles. We watch the disciples around us, ones we believe to be experts, ones who demonstrate Christlikeness. Like the expert on the other end of the line --we've never met her, but we know who she works for; we know she is where she is because she has knowledge and experience. We do what the experts tell us, and we imitate them. To think like a doe, the Fish and Game Commission studies does. To think like Jesus, we study Jesus." The discussion went on for a few more minutes with our son reiterating and affirming the points I was making. "That's how she got to be an expert, right? She studied does," he said in his tentative but perceptive way.  "And then she made me feel okay about what was happening. People won't feel okay about Jesus unless I know what I'm talking about, right?"

Hours later, as he hopped into the backseat, our young man immediately asked for an update. "The fawn was gone by the time I got back," I said. "It's all good! You gotta study a doe to think like a doe."

"Maaaahm," he crooned, "you gotta study Jesus to think like Jesus." 

Do You Have Clothes?

A young woman discovers she is pregnant. Her father is a pastor, her mother is a Bible teacher, and this young woman is unmarried. Be sure your sin will find you out. (Numbers 32:23) Her parents were so well-respected. Her church was solid, Bible-observing. She held so much promise. And do you know what? All of those things are still true. Reason being, this young woman sought the forgiveness and help of her parents and her King. As I listened to her story, I couldn't help but contrast it with my own. The abridged version goes like this: I was a coward, of little to no good character; but this young lady... Beautiful! What was even more beautiful was her father's response: 

How are your clothes fitting? Do you have clothes?

This young mother, courageous as she was, fully anticipating her father to lose his mind with anger, didn't expect that response. If there'd been a garden and a tree, one might have expected her to take to hiding. But her father sought to clothe her. Not to cover-up her offense, and not in shame or embarrassment; but in mercy. Her sin had been exposed; she chose to further expose herself; and now, her father sought to provide what was necessary for her to go on. Confession. Covering. Love. And, as a result, respect for her parents, obedience of her church family, and the promise of a life that honors God remain wholly intact. 

It reminds me of another event. One that, like mine, did not include transparency or confession. But God, in His infinite mercy, clothed His children anyway. (Genesis 3) Not to hide what they had done or erase the consequences, not from His embarrassment or shame. He offered them the free gift of His compassion and protection against the evil their sin had awakened in our world. The knowledge of good and evil as they now knew it was more than they had been created to bear; God provided a barrier against its effects on them. But clothing was only part of the solution: to restore the relationship with their Creator was going to take more than a couple of tunics. It was, however, a beginning; God extending His mercy and kindness toward offenders. Romans 2:4 assures us, it is God's goodness that leads us to repentance. John 3:16 says God gave His only Son. Ephesians 2:8, 9 say it is God's free gift to us. God's own words tell us it is His desire that none should perish. However, none of this means it is without obligation on our part. He instructs all to come before Him, confessing our sin, and turning from it to live in a way that brings Him honor and glory. God has indeed made a way whereby we can come to Him: that Way is the life and the death of His Son, Jesus Christ on the cross. Through His substitutionary atonement, the penalty for our sins is paid in full. Through His resurrection, we are raised to an eternal life; one that is not only eternal in length, but in quality. We are given all that is necessary to do our part; to ask His forgiveness, repent from our sin; to imitate Jesus Christ, be holy as He is holy. It merely begins with a new wardrobe.

Midweek: School Is in Session

I am a lifelong learner. I give tons of credit to my early elementary teachers who made their classrooms a safe place, a place of wonder and discovery. I'd like to think my love for learning has been passed on to some of our children. One is enrolled in college courses despite having multiple children at home. One devours all genres of reading and digital material. And our youngest absolutely loves school! FULL DISCLOSURE: It's the structure he loves. But when not in the classroom, when walking about town doing errands or taking a detour through the park, he is as attentive to my teaching and as inquisitive as any child could be. And, as a former homeschooler, I try to teach as we go.

Deuteronomy 6:6-9 is one of my favorite passages of Scripture:

And these words which I command you today shall be in your heart. You shall teach them diligently to your children, and shall talk of them when you sit in your house, when you walk by the way, when you lie down, and when you rise up. You shall bind them as a sign on your hand, and they shall be as frontlets between your eyes. You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

Can you see it? Can you picture, quietly walking along, maybe dismantling a stick or piece of grass, talking with your child about Noah's obedience or Paul's tenacity in serving the Lord? This is what we as parents are to do. We are to take every opportunity to teach our children about the God we serve SO THAT they might be enticed to serve Him as well. We are to be living examples and use the examples we encounter as we live. We are to talk to our children about our failures and God's mercy. We must demonstrate mercy toward them when they fail. We are to direct their eyes to the One who really fed them that day. We are to stir in them a love for serving the Lord in the same way my teachers stirred in me a love for learning. Our home should be a safe place, not marked by judgment or hypocrisy. Our home should be a place in which we are always wondering at the goodness and power of God; where we are daily studying to discover more about Him and are filled with a joyful preparedness to discover where He is directing our steps. If Scripture is ours, personal and integrated, it will be to us as natural to share as our family history or the cherished tales of fun-filled family vacations. If our homes are bathed in the promises of God and all who enter are greeted with His image in the faces and lives of its inhabitants, our children will do more than learn. They will want to learn. And they will return to that learning even if they stray. 

Teaching our children --and that goes for our adult children as well --teaching our children is the responsibility of each and every parent, a personal responsibility. It's not on the Sunday school teacher. It's not on the leader at Explorer Girls or Vacation Bible School. We, we parents are to teach them. And it is never "too late." I wish I had the time back. I wish I'd not failed my children so many times. But I have been given today and, as far as I know, tomorrow. The opportunities still exist, and it's on me to seize them, to encourage my children and grandchildren to be lifelong learners in the School of Discipleship for Jesus Christ. 

 

Across the Lake

That evening, Jesus said to his followers, “Let’s go across the lake.”
~ Mark 4:35 NCV

I watched as our youngest began pursuing the dog for the second time that morning. He'd been up less than ten minutes, and he was already looking to get into something. This time I corrected him, and he, of course, denied it. I sighed. What is it this time? I wondered. The reality is, it doesn't have to be anything, really. He has no idea what today will be like, it hasn't even started, and that's what terrifies him. And that's when I really saw myself in him. I've known all along, we're not very different, he and I, but seeing him actively working to "burn it down" made me realize what drives much of my bad behavior. Fear of the unknown. That old expression, Better the devil you know than the devil you may meet, has been something of a way of life for me. If I burn this relationship down now, if I ruin my day from the start, if I destroy my diet before breakfast... I never have to wonder how things will turn out. Will he cheat on me? Will the day end with me wishing I'd never been born? Will I eat half a box of Oreos? Done! Problem solved. Question answered. But... What if we fell in love? What if it was the best day ever? What if I felt great and slept more soundly? Is having the answers to everything worth the price of never watching the unknown gently, surprisingly reveal itself? Is knowing what will be as life-giving as discovering the possibilities? Is writing my own ending better than what is meant to be? I have, in far too many ways, opted for answers. Answers provide control. If I know what's up ahead, I can perhaps, take the detour I might choose. If I know things won't work out, I can refuse to try. If I know what lies inside all of those papered and ribboned boxes under the tree, I can prepare for disappointment and summon some fake joy. 

And yet, I've lived a good life, a happy life --I am O!K! That is, until I really start to examine what this means in terms of my faith. The morning I watched our son, God made it clear to me. I've left it no secret that I've battled addiction. My addiction has manifested itself in substance abuse and other compulsive behaviors, but the root issue itself is avoidance. I'm introverted, for sure, but I don't suffer from panic attacks or sweaty palms when I am in the presence of others; I simply don't want to be. When I am in my feels, I don't want to deal with voices or text messages or other people's problems or making breakfast for someone or traffic or even the effort it takes me to speak. In the words of a certain fictional ballerina, I want to be alone. When I'm overwhelmed, when I'm afraid, when I simply don't know, my go-to is avoidance. It would make sense to use my big words and ask for a few minutes (which, if I'm being honest, when I am not held to account, those few minutes could become months); or I could take a deep breath and whisper a prayer. Instead, I avoid; I hide behind a litany of excuses and invented obligations. Oh, I'd love to, but... And when avoidance is not an option, I burn the moment, the day, an entire relationship to the ground. Or, at least, I did.

I have found other ways to cope --not all beneficial. I eat. I scroll. I pace. I exercise --a lot! Do something creative! we encourage our youngest. Great advice; if only I followed it myself. Let's go for a walk! Let's play a boardgame! Helping him redirect his energy should help me develop the habit of redirecting my own. Do you need a hug? How about if I pray with you? Refusing to allow his fears to stir up my own, then squashing them all at once. It's a work in progress. And we are here to live. Jesus died that we might have eternal life; not a perfect existence or days filled with bliss or all of the answers. Part of life --at least on this side of heaven --is facing the unknown day after day, not having all the answers, but knowing we have been invited to cross the lake. And God, in His infinite mercy, assures us we are not alone, that He is with us and His Spirit dwells within those who plead the blood of Jesus. Life with Him is all about stepping into the boat and, maybe, sailing through a storm or two. It may not be easy, it may not be the path we would choose; it may make our flesh recoil and our minds swirl, but we'll never know what might have been --we cannot know what God will do on the other side, if we've used our vessel for kindling. 

Is It Faith or a Lack of Options?

As I watched our youngest in the pool, my mind went back to the days when our "middle set" of children were small. Jump! C'mon, Daddy will catch you. Just jump! Swing sets and pool sides demanded courage they were not quite certain they had. But Daddy was always there to catch them. Did they have to jump? No, of course not. But their daddy was so convincing, had proven himself so trustworthy, and they were confident to try something --even apparently risky --because the one they loved and knew would always hold them up was encouraging them to do it. Oh, to have the faith of a child! But grown-ups have resources. We can reach the bottom of the pool. We can climb to the top of the ladder. We can interview for the dream job, cast our vote for a candidate, speak out against injustice, fix the air conditioner, even lower our own blood pressure through proper diet and exercise. We have so many talents and techniques at our disposal. Why would we ever need to trust anyone?

My husband and I have had some REALLY BIG things happen in our life --not all good. In fact, some things have been downright awful, but every time, I've sat in my office, my Bible open before me, and said, "Jesus, I trust You, no matter what!" Long story short, I have. I've "demonstrated great faith in difficult times." Or, at least, that's what my hubris seemed to reassure. But is it really faith when you're out of options? Is it really faith when your back is against the wall and there's nothing you can do to change the circumstances? Trust me, it's not. In fact, it's a tremendous offense. To say I trust God only because I'm in a situation in which I need Him, a situation in which only He can make things good, is an awful, awful testimony and an even worse way to be His. Like some vending machine in the sky, I seek Him for the tough stuff and handle the rest myself. Although I talk to Him throughout the day, I read His Word, I want to serve Him and please Him, my role in our relationship has proven to be self-serving. 

How can I wholeheartedly, unquestioningly, consistently obey? I can't! Hence, the bad behavior! At least, not on my own. Even the Apostle Paul realized the struggle between zealously wanting to do what God requires and his sinful, maybe knee-jerk reactions that were clearly disobedient but profoundly part of his behavior. I can't control the dog who did a burnout on the hardwoods because the child I can't control panicked over the bee he let in when he checked the mail full of bills which I can't control because my husband's been out of work because customers I can't control are hesitant about spending money in a market I can't control. And so on, and so on until all the donuts are gone and I've lost my mind pacing and snapping at people because I just want to run away. Fear. Lack of control. And no faith. Hand me a terminal diagnosis or a notice of foreclosure any day: you'll see steadfastness, "faith" beyond explanation. Only because of the lack of options. But hand me a day packed with uncertainty and quirks and left turns from the right lane and the need for follow-up emails to follow-up emails and people excitedly chattering about their day while I'm trying to think and dinner that refuses to cook itself, and watch me lose my mind; see what "true faith" I have.

Praise God for His abundant mercy! He is, by the work of His Holy Spirit teaching me faith for the little foxes that will, if given time and opportunity, decimate the vineyard --His vineyard. I am His, and He will use me for His glory. And here is a wonderful reassurance: not only will He continue to transform me so that I am equipped to bring Him glory, but it is also the process of that transformation, the work He does through the circumstances we encounter that brings Him glory! He gets it whether I comply or not --because of His mercy, because of His forbearance, because of His grace, because of His benevolence, because of His sovereignty... He gets His fame whether I live long enough to eagerly, obediently, without hesitation leave the safety and security of the pool side or not! He will have His honor whether I shove Him to the side and choose to employ the resources at my disposal or not. But how gracious He is to beckon each of us, to ask us to fall willingly into His arms whether we see other options or not!

Midweek: Savoring This Season

What seems mere days ago, I was anticipating the beginning of Summer. What would we like to do once school is out? Possibility: how on earth will we fill the time? How will my teaching schedule acquiesce to my duties as a full-time mother? Logistics: how on earth will this work? And yet, here we are, with this season drawing so rapidly to a close once again. The question of possibilities was answered in abundance with a scarcity of time. The question of logistics was answered with the cooperation and support of many in our community. By God's grace, this season has not only been survived but savored!

Not every season is enjoyable. Not every season appears bearable or possible at the outset. But it is seasons we all undergo. In 1623, John Donne, as he suffered through an unknown and debilitating illness wrote a series of devotions which were later published in Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions. To read the excerpt I choose to share with you today, one has to grasp the severity of Donne's situation. During this time, crowding, poor sanitation, and an influx of people from all over the globe caused a series of diseases to barrage England and take many to their graves. Donne had no idea which if any of these infirmities ravaged his body; he could only surmise from his affliction that this would indeed end in death. He remained isolated (due to the fear of contagion) and bedridden for months. Without answers, community, vocation, health, even the strength to leave his bed, Donne boldly and faithfully used such a season to fix his eyes on the One who not only had permitted it but remained with him in it. His suffering was a blessing to us all.        

O MOST mighty and most merciful God, who, though Thou have taken me off of my feet, hast not taken me off of my foundation, which is Thyself; who, though Thou have removed me from that upright form in which I could stand and see Thy throne, the heavens, yet hast not removed from me that light by which I can lie and see Thyself; who, though Thou have weakened my bodily knees, that they cannot bow to Thee, hast yet left me the knees of my heart; which are bowed unto Thee evermore; as Thou hast made this bed Thine altar, make me Thy sacrifice; and as Thou makest Thy Son Christ Jesus the priest, so make me His deacon, to minister to Him in a cheerful surrender of my body and soul to Thy pleasure, by His hands. I come unto Thee, O God, my God, I come unto Thee, so as I can come, I come to Thee, by embracing Thy coming to me, I come in the confidence, and in the application of thy servant David's promise, that Thou wilt make all my bed in my sickness; all my bed; that which way soever I turn, I may turn to Thee; and as I feel Thy hand upon all my body, so I may find it upon all my bed, and see all my corrections, and all my refreshings to flow from one in the same, and all from Thy hand.

By God's grace, Donne survived this illness; it was but for a season. His determination to worship and to serve in whatever capacity made available to him is an encouragement to all of us in our seasons. When time is in abundance and you are uncertain how to fill it, seek and pray for the Lord to teach you stewardship. When obligations are many and you cannot see how you will ever manage to fill them well, seek and pray for the Lord to send laborers to help. When your eyes are failing, your body is weak, and you are unable to rise from your bed, seek and pray, for God will hear your praises no matter in what condition you find yourself! 

Celebrating Today

I come from the era of Photomat and disposal flashcubes. IYKYK. My mother was uncompromising in her requirement that photos would be taken at every holiday and properly labeled with names and dates. As my brother and I aged, and I ceased amputating limbs and decapitating relatives in my holiday pictures, Mom relied less on my father to handle the family photographs. But that was it. I wasn't the type to gather my friends and stage a pyramid on the beach or capture sunsets. It wasn't until I had children that I picked up the camera again. And I was relentless. Every smile, every wave was mine to capture. And every picture was precious to me. Album after album lined our shelves, preserving fleeting moments of childhood and innocence. Every once in a while, when I scour the hundreds (thousands?) of photos I have printed, on flash drives, in the cloud, or on my phone, I feel the ache in my heart, the longing to return to those days. (Days which I thought were so difficult at the time.) 

This summer, has felt, to me, like a summer of waiting. Waiting for work to pick up as it usually does in the early months of the year but hasn't seemed to even yet. Waiting for money to arrive so we can "do something cool" during our youngest's days off of school. Waiting for some sort of answer with regard to my husband's health. Waiting for the appointment I made with a new doctor months ago (only to have to reschedule because of a paperwork error). Waiting for our daughter and her husband to leave the country so that reality can begin to take hold. Yes, I am a jump straight into a frigid pool, rip that bandage right off kinda girl. Waiting for all of my efforts to serve God more obediently and more consistently to finally feel normal and comfortable instead of clumsy and difficult. Waiting for schedules to coincide so we can have those much talked about dinners with friends and family.

If we're not careful, we will spend our lives either looking back or looking forward without looking at the glory that is right before our eyes. Rather than enjoying the sunrise, we'll be anticipating breakfast. Rather than enjoying the imagination of our children, we'll be obsessing over their GPAs or their future credit scores. Rather than waiting on God, we'll be waiting on that thing or that moment. Our presence, our being present wherever we are will always be secondary to something else. So, what do we do?

Get help. Huh? I know, it might sound a little crazy, but help comes in all sorts of packages. Help might be as simple as putting on some music or as serious as joining a 12-Step program. I'm choosing the latter. All of this waiting has me in such a downward spiral of emotion, such a place of distraction; I'm trying to alter my mindset to one of being present and grateful, slowing things down and really thinking about this very moment. Find what it takes to bring you into the present, to make you fully aware of the things you are saying or the choices you are making. Find ways to be grateful --not just things to be grateful for, but ways to express your gratitude to your Creator and King. Dig deep to those places in your heart where ingratitude and pride have taken root. Fill them with confession and light. And just stop. Look at the calendar or smell the towels you're folding; listen to the laughter coming from the other room or watch the chamois soak up each drop as you drag it across the slick black paint of the hood; feel the warmth in the soft, rosy cheeks of your wriggling, teething child; taste the nothingness of fresh, cool water; determine to be present and steep yourself in the nowness you have been given. And gratitude will begin to bloom. And with that gratitude, a right perspective on all we have, all we are, and all God has called us to be. The present will become the place where you want most to be. And God will be with you there --no matter how much of your past has been lost or how much of your future seems uncertain.

Photo courtesy LuAnn Martin

The Secret to Streak-free

From time to time, I attempt to look out a window. And from time to time (Read: every dog-gone day!) I cannot see out of said windows. Reason being, we have a boy and a dog. If it's not fingerprints, it's nose prints. So, I get out the cleaner and go to work. There is a technique, of course; because, if I clean the inside of the window first, then move to the outside, as I am standing in the great outdoors, the occupants inside are watching and, for some inexplicable reason, if you have four legs or are under the age of twenty-seven, you must put your nose and/or your fingers on the glass as you watch. The technique, however, provides at least a modicum of satisfaction the job has been completed. According to the technique, I leave the inside occupants right where they are, move to the outside and clean that side of the glass, then return to the inside and clean that side. The theory is, once the show is over, the crowd disperses, and the windows --both sides --remain clean for longer than it takes me to clean them. Or, at least, that's what I tell myself.

As I was religiously following the tenets of the technique the other day, I began to think about God "wiping our slate clean." Scripture assures us, His people, those who come to Him through the blood of Jesus, He remembers our sins no more. To Him, the slate remains streak-free. Now, that's not to say we can't muck it up with our sin and rebellion. Of course we can! But how does He, the Master of accounts, reckon it when we do? Still streak-free! As far as He is concerned, we are righteous because Jesus Christ is our Advocate and Substitute; He took the condemnation we deserved, and we are no longer condemned. 

How are things on our side of the glass, though? Oh, the dirt is there! We see it. Our Adversary seeks to remind us of it. The lies, the gossip, the infidelity, the avoidance, the meanness we display toward that person who just grates on our last nerve. They're all there; the streaks and prints on our side of the glass. They obstruct our vision and distort our perspective of the One who truly loves us beyond measure. We can't see what God can see --not in Him, not in others, and not in ourselves. The dirt and smudges become so thick, we may even abandon the idea of trying to look. The fingerprints on our side of the glass are our own, and we can't seem to reconcile the fact that from the other side, from the side of the God who loves us so much He gave His only Son to die in our place, securing for us forgiveness, eternal life, a relationship --from His side, the glass is pristine, our slate is wiped clean. Not that we might sin again, mind you, but that we might stay free, that we might go forth with the joy of having all things made new. That we might see the possibilities and the future our Heavenly Father sees. That we might peer through the glass to the truth as He has made it known to those who seek His face. That we might sit with our faces toward the Light as it streams unimpeded through the crystal-clear windows of our hearts. That we might look with hope and certainty to the vision God has for each of those He has called.

The promises of God are sure. His word is trustworthy and unchanging. Walk in obedience. Rest in forgiveness. And see His glory!

Midweek: What Does a Resurrection Life Look Like?

We pulled into the parking lot on a beautiful Sunday morning. Sadly, there were plenty of spaces from which to choose. Not only has the world lost interest in the things of God, but it almost seems as though folks who call themselves Christians have as well. Plenty of things to distract on a beautiful Sunday morning, apparently. (But that's for another day.) Anyway, Vulnerability was standing out front. Vulnerability is the man whose personal life is far from perfect. He has his demons, as do even those who deny it. Nevertheless, he is sticking close. When he doesn't know how to stay close to Jesus, he stays close to the church or our pastor. Vulnerability places himself at the mercy of those who know Jesus personally because he wants to know Jesus, too, and he is brutally honest about his shortcomings.

As I entered the building, Struggle with Joy was seated just inside the door. Struggle with Joy has some pretty serious health issues, but I've never seen it get the best of him. He grieves when those with whom he shares twice-weekly treatments do not survive. He cares for those who care for him and is a champion of anyone he calls "Friend". His innocence and infectious smile belie his challenges.

Courtesy greeted me with a smile and stepped to the side of the narrow hall, giving me preference. I have to admit, there have been times I've wondered why Courtesy is there. He doesn't always need; he doesn't always give. Sometimes he engages in polite conversation during our time of greeting; other times he's fast asleep. But he is indeed a part of our church family, and it is our privilege to count him as such.  

Just past Courtesy was Care and Sacrifice. What a wonderful couple they make! The one so eager and inquisitive; the other silent and selfless. They were cooking in the kitchen that morning, serving pancakes to anyone who needed to eat and sharing the Bread of Life with anyone likely to hunger again. Care left her post to retrieve a pair of socks for Self-Aware. (Self-Aware has no home. Our church is a place he can eat, wash up a bit, and share some normalcy before heading back to a difficult life.) Sacrifice continued to move slowly around the kitchen, his body sore and tired.

As I ascended the stairs to the sanctuary, Change met me excitedly. "Wasn't Friday night great? I love that I'm hanging out with my family and the leaders in the church! And those two," he said with a nod toward Care and Sacrifice, "are just great! They put so much work into everything they do." I couldn't help but notice his eyes; not red, not glassy; his speech was clear and strong. Change.

At the top of the stairs was Steadfastness. Steadfastness does whatever he can do. Church wasn't starting for another thirty minutes, but Steadfastness was in place, ready to do his assigned task. I spoke, and he replied in his easy, carefree way, never raising his eyes from all he was doing. 

This is our church. There are other members as well: Affection, Exuberance, Service, Kindness, Faith --just to name a few. And I was thinking as I entered that day, there's the reflection of Jesus in every face there. Although there is no central goal or theme except loyalty to Him, we are all at various stages of our walk and we are all used in the way our Master designs. Our message is, above all others, the Gospel. We're not the Successful Church in that everyone gathered represents all we aspire to be. We're not the Political Church, waving the American flag and expecting like-mindedness in all things governmental. We're not even the Religious Church, with piety and discipline perfectly desired and perfectly executed. We are Resurrection Life Church, a work in progress, a daily grind, and a joy to behold!  

Sure, It's a Stretch. But It's Worth It!

WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME????

Has that ever been your question? Have you ever been in a season where nothing seems to go right for days, weeks, months on end? Without chasing down too many rabbits, we've been on one of those adventures for about a year now; the fear and frustration I've experienced have caused problems in other areas. As I attempted to take care of the things I can control, I discovered a book by Mark E. Shaw called Addiction-Proof Parenting. (I'm not in love with the title --I almost expected some money-back guarantee, but many strategies and explanations were helpful.) In one chapter, Shaw talks about "The Cycle of the Victim Mentality". He rightly points out that it's important to challenge children, to stretch their capabilities and our expectations of them -- in a godly manner --as it is pretty much human nature to take responsibility for only the bare minimum of what is expected of us. When a parent fails to set high standards, to encourage their child to do the hard things, the results are tragic. 

And in that place is where I discovered yet another assurance of the love and mercy of God for His children!

Shaw writes: 

As the child takes less responsibility and a parent takes more of those responsibilities, the child develops an angry and depressed attitude. Why? The answer is that he knows he is failing in this area but is not willing to change. This internal conflict breeds his anger toward his parents.

When someone sins by omission, or by failing to do what is rightly required by the Lord, there are consequences for those sins because mankind is under the curse of the sin resulting from the fall of Adam and Eve in Genesis 3. Just as we are under the law of gravity, we are also under the law of sin and its consequences, which always result in separation from God, sinful emotional responses, and eternal death. When Adam and Eve sinned in Genesis 3, the emotions of fear and shame appeared for the first time in human history. The sinful failures of a person in addiction to be responsible are compounded by their wrong thinking-the victim mentality.

Here is a typical cycle:

• an addict fails to be responsible,
• a parent picks up the responsibility for the addict,
• the addict feels guilty about the sinful failure,  
• the sin causes consequential emotions (depression), 
• the addict mistakenly begins to believe that he is not responsible and that the parent is responsible, and finally, 
• the addict becomes angry at the parent, sometimes unknowingly.

It is incredible to see how many addicts are bitter and hateful toward their parents who are simply trying to do the right thing by filling the void left by the addict's irresponsibility. Parents are often shocked at the angry attitude of a child whom they are "enabling" to be irresponsible. The parent thinks, "I am only trying to help my child-why doesn't he see it?" While it may look like victimization to the child who desires to be in control of his own life, the parent does not see it. The parent simply believes he is doing the right thing by taking care of the responsibilities, but the consequences of the sin are designed by the Lord to point the person back to Christ for confession, repentance, forgiveness, and power to do the will of God. The dynamics of a "rescuing" or "enabling" parent who takes the responsibility from a child is acting sinfully, which will provoke that child to anger.

Though the child may not be able to verbalize it, he knows that he is failing to be responsible to his God-given responsibilities. ... By God's design, all sin produces consequences including emotions like guilt, anger, and depression. These consequences manifest in order to lead a sinning person to confession and repentance. Even though the parents mistakenly believe they are helping the child, they are actually sinning and contributing to the child's sinful failures to be responsible. Unfortunately, it's a double whammy of sin: the child's and the parent's!

Our Heavenly Father does not, of course, sin. He stretches us and challenges us, but He is with us all along. We are not without His grace and His law. He lavishes His love on us that we might serve Him and bring Him glory to the extent we were created to do so! In the seasons where we are tested and pressed, His divine mercy is operating to make us better servants and image bearers for His glory and our good!

What's Wrong with Believing You're Forgiven?

I was nine years old when my parents decided to send me to a new school, a private Christian school. I hated every minute of that first year. I'd gone from being the popular kid to the weird new kid. The jeans and tees I wore to my old school were a much better fit for my boxy frame. My new school required I wear dresses, and I felt like a hippo in a tutu. I went from being a straight-A student to being in what was then known as "the slow class" because of my poor placement scores. I even got into trouble twice that year --a huge difference from the one teeeeny-tiny incident in all my years at public school. BUT one of the very first Bible verses I recall having to memorize was 2 Corinthians 5:17, Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new. It and the verses surrounding have become some of my favorites. 

Our pastor spoke recently on this passage. He gave the example of a neighbor committing a crime: I can't go to jail for that because I'm not him. We no longer have to be bothered by, to live in guilt over the things we used to do before coming to Christ; we are no longer bound to those things because we are not that person anymore. And when we choose to daily, faithfully follow Jesus, our sins --past, present, and future --are remembered by God no more. As I listened, I recalled a coworker making light of the premise. Oh, I can just do anything: I'm forgiven for it anyway. In fact, he often pointed out the wrongdoings of Christians and churchgoers over the years, and would sardonically reply to his own remark, But it's okay; we're forgiven. Now, Dietrich Bonhoeffer would probably have preached him a sermon on "cheap grace" had he been present, but as I thought about my coworker, I wished I'd asked a single question: What's wrong with that? I don't mean the idea of cheap grace (basically, taking license to do as I please on the premise I am forgiven anyway) --of course it's wrong (Rom. 6:1-14). But what is wrong with believing you are forgiven? What is wrong with believing the One who created you, who is perfect and holy, who made a way through His Son for you to be counted righteous, who gave His Holy Spirit to work in and through you for your sanctification and God's glory --what is wrong with believing He remembers your sin no more?

Acts 3:19 says, Repent therefore and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out, so that times of refreshing may come from the presence of the Lord. Clearly there is no continuing in sin. Clearly, we are called to turn away from our old nature and walk in the new nature we are given --"new creation," right? But walking around debt-free? How cool is that?! Have you ever paid off a credit card? Made your last payment on a mortgage? What a feeling of freedom that is! I am never getting into debt again! Right? What's wrong with that? You see, we haven't been freed, our slate has not been wiped clean so that we might go out and act the fool again; we have been made new, our accounts settled, our sins cast into the sea, so that we might know the freedom of being unshackled, of being forgiven! Therefore if the Son makes you free, you shall be free indeed (John 8:36).

As time passed, I went from being the new weird kid to being relatively popular again. As I matured, I looked forward to school shopping and selecting new dresses and skirts to wear. My grades improved as I learned what was expected of me, and I not only didn't get into trouble, but I even babysat for some of my teachers. I joined the Bible quizzing team which required me to memorize large passages of Scripture. Change had come, slowly and not without its problems. In fact, it wasn't until years later 2 Corinthians 5:17 really resonated with me. But the longer I hung in there, the easier it got. I didn't want to go back to where I'd been before; I liked "the new." 

The change Jesus produces in us, the pardon and freedom He provides through His shed blood on the cross spurs us on not to license for sin, the perfecting of our old nature, but to boldness and greater faith, to the works ordained for us to do, to the fulfilling of the Great Commission, to the loving of God with every part of ourselves and the loving of one another as we have been loved, to life, free and new!  

Midweek: The Lesson

Even when princes set to scheme against me,

Your servant dwelled on Your statutes.

~ Psalm 119:23 (Alter) 

Imagine Elijah, pursued by the queen's forces for killing the prophets of Baal. Imagine David hiding in caves to escape the hateful designs of the king upon his life. Imagine the disciples of God, fearing and fleeing Paul (before his conversion) as he breathed out threats and racked up a body count of innocents. Fear. Chaos. The unknown. A powerful enemy and what appears to be a serious lack of resources.

Let me tell you a little story...

Chapter One: Bad Decisions. My husband and I took a much needed vacation. Our timing probably wasn't the best --it was just as things were opening up after a certain pandemic, we ourselves were on the tail end of a brief experience with it --but we'd had enough; we needed to get away. Our pick of destination may not have been very wise either --we chose the Smokey Mountains of Tennessee in January --but, again, we'd had enough. I wanted isolation. I wanted to be removed from the busy "normals" of life. So be it! The night we arrived, so did a storm. Snow! Ooh! Ahh! A winter wonderland! But the ice? On a mountain? Not so much. Our dreams of a romantic dinner in town, returning to our mountain hideaway... Our dreams of sightseeing under a Southern sun in forty-degree temps... Gone! Instead, we received for our money an empty fridge, grey skies, and a forty-degree ice-covered slope to the main road. Given little option, we saddled up the luxury SUV we'd rented, hereby dubbed a pavement princess exclusively!, and attempted to procure provisions. 

Chapter Two: The Slope. As we started down the slope leading to the main road, we encountered ice. Slick and terrifying. Terrifying because on one side of the narrow slope was about a foot of brush before the solid rock of the mountain's upside. On the other side of the narrow slope was about a foot of brush before the certain calamity of the mountain's downside.   

        No guardrail. 
                At all. 
With every foot we crept, the rear of our pavement princess slid closer to the edge of the downside while the front threatened to lose traction completely. The option of backing up the slope garnered the same result as the attempt to move down, only in reverse. The front end of the vehicle sought the precipice while the back end struggled to hold the slope. In all my husband's years of driving, he'd never been so unnerved. In all my years of praying, I'd never longed so badly to bounce off of a guardrail.    

Chapter Three: The Lesson. Okay, if I'm being honest, we learned lots of lessons that trip; but here I am, sitting safely in my office almost five years later being shown another. That day I kept wishing for a guardrail, some sort of barrier to keep us from going off the edge. Better to sideswipe some rocks than roll eighty feet down a mountainside! Your servant dwelled on Your statutes. Seeing God's law as the protective barrier that, though we may bounce off it a time or two (or more, if we're particularly inclined to repeat offenses), it keeps us from dropping headlong to our peril. That icy slope represented all sorts of treachery; but having the benefit of a guardrail, as hard as it would have been on our pavement princess were we to ride it all the way to the bottom, would have assured us of safety. God's law, guiding us, keeping us --as hard as it is on our human nature to obey --guards us against the certain peril of leaving the path. Even when the distractions are many, even when fear grips us menacingly, even when all around us is thrown into chaos, even when we cannot know what lies ahead, the statutes of God --if we dwell on them, build our lives on their truth --we have the blessing of a guard and guide as we follow after Christ our conquering King.   

  

Where Is Your Confidence?

This year I made up my mind I was buying myself a new outfit for Easter. I've had the same few thrift store dresses on "REPEAT", and I wanted to celebrate by rocking something brand new. So, I headed out that Saturday to do a little shopping. A cheery little set called to me as I walked in the store. I took a few minutes to try it on in a dressing room and loved it! Comfy, stylish; different from most of my other ensembles, yet "so me." Sunday morning, however, was a different story. Had I gained ten pounds in the hours since I'd left the store? Did it shrink as it hung in my closet? How did I leave the store feeling so confident, and now I'm sitting here rethinking every fashion choice I've ever made?

Weeks after, I was tucking in our youngest and, from the story we were reading, I asked the question, "What is the difference between confidence in yourself and confidence in God?" His answer was profound:

Confidence in God is a complete gift. Confidence in yourself, you are always trying to gain; it comes and goes.

Let me say that again for the folks in the back. Confidence in God is a complete gift. Confidence in yourself, you are always trying to gain; it comes and goes. Who am I kidding? That was not just for the people in the back; that was for me! And, hopefully, it benefits you as well. 

Don Matzat, author of the wonderful book, Christ-Esteem: Where the Search for Self-Esteem Ends emphasizes the importance of keeping ourselves centered on Christ, especially during times of personal struggle. Good Christians who are hurting are sometimes misled into thinking they lack self-love or self-esteem; they can also be misled when it comes to confidence. Oh, Sister Anita does so much for the Lord; she is fearless! Or, Have you heard Pastor Tim is writing a book? I wish I had that much confidence in my abilities. The real truth is, Sister Anita and Pastor Tim (hopefully) are not riding out some tremendous wave of confidence in their own character or talents any more than they have super self-esteem. They are succeeding in what they have been given to do because their identity and their confidence rests in the One handing out the assignments.

Recently, I was asked to take a position in our church. It was explained that this was, in a sense, a mere formality. You're already doing it; that's why we're asking you to receive it. Okay, no pressure. But the day of, the day this was to be "made formal" I contemplated taking the dog for a veeeeery long walk, perhaps into the next time zone. Not only does recognition make me uneasy, but I felt like such a fraud. I don't... I do... I can't... All of the arguments as to why I was absolutely, irrefutably unfit for the job I'd "already been doing." Somewhere along the line, I'd allowed my confidence in the Commissioner to be replaced by a shaky, volatile, coming-and-going reliance on little ol' me, the fractured earthen vessel, the fumbler, the rebel, the commissioned. Confidence in God is a complete gift. Confidence in yourself, you are always trying to gain; it comes and goes. Like the feeling when actually wearing your new clothes doesn't live up to having new clothes. Like the reality check that hits you hours before you're supposed to publicly accept a designation.

Hebrews 10:35 encourages us to not throw away our confidence. Now, I've heard a certain "teacher" explain this to be feeling assured with regard to our abilities, knowing we are children of the King and we can do this. Not at all. In context, God through the writer of Hebrews is clearly talking about the confidence that comes from trusting the One who has called us to do the things we've been called to do.

Meyer's NT Commentary says:

The self-sacrificing zeal for Christianity displayed in the past ought to animate the readers to a joyful maintenance of the same likewise in the present...

Ellicott's Commentary says:

Rather, 'Cast not away therefore your boldness, seeing it hath a great recompence.' To 'cast away boldness' is the opposite of 'holding fast the boldness of the hope' (Hebrews 3:6); the one belongs to the endurance of the faithful servant (Hebrews 10:32; Hebrews 10:36), the other to the cowardice of the man who draws back (Hebrews 10:38). This verse and the next are closely connected: Hold fast your boldness, seeing that to it belongs great reward; hold it fast, for 'he that endureth to the end shall be saved.'

The confidence we have comes from the Shepherd who never leaves His sheep, who is our comprehensive and perfect Atonement, who works for our good at all times, whose grace is sufficient, who gives gifts and cultivates fruit through His Holy Spirit whom He gave us, who promises we are more than conquerors through Him... BUT it's all through Him, in Him, and for Him. The confidence that we never have to gain or work for, that never comes and goes, but is with us in full and always.  

As Real as Water in Our Hands

I don't think I'm alone in saying I remember nothing from the movie The Miracle Worker but the water scene. It's a breakthrough moment, the one we've all been awaiting. Helen Keller (actress Patty Duke) first realizes the word she is signing, water, identifies the liquid she is actually feeling coming from the pump; water is a thing itself, and the letters, w-a-t-e-r, identify that thing.

In the upcoming year, my plan is to revisit my old journals, to begin reading through them a little each day. I know I will find pain there. I know I will find history. I know I will find an emergence of illumination and commitment. What I will find most disturbing --and I know I will find it, because I know me --I will find the same things written again and again. I will find these AHA! moments, when the light finally dawns, when the water becomes a real thing to me, and I will find them --the same ones --again and again. What a merciful God, who has taken me over the same ground again and again that I might be changed! BUT why, if I am who I claim to be, if I love as I say I do, should He have to do so? Did Helen Keller have to be taught again and again the substance of water? Did she require Anne Sullivan to place her hand under the spout day after day, signing the letters, w-a-t-e-r over and over? The breakthrough had come, and from that moment on, Helen Keller knew what water was. When she signed the letters, w-a-t-e-r, she wasn't asking to go outside; she wasn't identifying a sound in the woods; Helen Keller knew what water wasn't. From that instance, truth, reality, identity was fixed in the mind of a deaf and blind woman. For life! Oh, that I could say the same! But breakthrough with regard to spiritual things in a temporal place, seems to come and go as quickly as a paycheck. Again, and again, and again, God imparts truth to us in various ways. A sermon, the Holy Spirit's move as we read the Scriptures, an object lesson, the passing words of someone in the feed store, the smell of honeysuckle in early Summer --so many ways He presents truth to us, giving us opportunity after opportunity to make truth as real to us as water in the hands of Helen Keller. And yet, we treat those lessons so casually. 

What would happen if God stopped? What would happen if He withdrew the work of His Holy Spirit in our lives, cancelled class for the day or the week or the rest of time? The assurance that He will teach and remain with His children does not give us license to undervalue or abuse the gifts He gives. Just as Paul could not stomach the idea that grace provides license that sin might abound, our Lord's Holy Spirit with us should never be taken for granted nor should we put off for another day what His Word instructs us to observe today. The moments we have with our Lord are precious. Eternity does not make them any less timely or costly. His mercies, while new in abundance each day, are not redundant or disposable. We are privileged to be mentored and accompanied by our King's very presence. Let us treasure His lessons as water to a parched land. Let us not merely study to know or consume, but to hold fast, to demonstrate ourselves as abiding in the way to which we have been saved. Let us appreciate those AHA! moments when we are given them but routinely receive His instruction with intention and all due diligence.