With Him

Someone once told me the hieroglyphic for "impossible" was a person walking on water. I haven't been able to substantiate that, but anything to do with a water miracle and the ancient Egyptians makes sense. In Matthew 14:22-33, is the account of Jesus walking on the water. If what I was told about "impossible" is true, that would be sort of ironic: Jesus choosing to walk on the water to demonstrate nothing is impossible for Him or with Him. It is the "with Him" we're talking about today.  

Matthew's account begins with Jesus instructing His disciples to get in the boat and head out onto the sea. Didn't Jesus know the storm was coming? Didn't Jesus care He was sending them into a terrible situation? I believe He knew and He cared. When the car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, or we get that call late at night --an accident or a child who has not returned home; when the foreclosure notice has been served, or the diagnosis is terminal, Jesus knows. He knows it long before any of us. And, as He was while His friends were being battered on a dark and furious sea, He is there.

Matthew says it was about 4AM when Jesus came to His disciples. He had been praying by Himself on the hillside. Surely, the Creator of the sea, the One the wind and waves obey, could have simply spoken a word from his location and put a stop to it all. No, He comes to them. He wants them to see Him. And they do. But they think He is a ghost. Wrongly, perversely, people have always believed in ghosts. Likely, one of the Adversary's means of getting humanity to think casually about demonic spirits and their activity. Some commentaries say the disciples may have believed, as many other seafarers over the ages, that the spirits of those claimed by the depths still haunted the waters and would come for them in a storm. Regardless, they were afraid.

Jesus immediately identifies Himself, and Peter responds, “Lord, if it is You, command me to come to You on the water.” Peter, a seasoned fisherman, should have had a healthy respect for the sea, one that would have prevented him from thinking he could do what Jesus was doing. His knowledge, possibly, of those he knew who may have been lost at sea or barely survived a sudden storm, should have prevented him from thinking this was a novel or easy thing to do. Most likely, you and I wouldn't try walking on the water at a public pool, much less on a volatile sea in a violent storm. Yet Peter says, "Command me to come to You on the water." 

Often we read this and think, "What tremendous faith!" only for our hearts to sink two short verses later. Peter has turned away, taken his eyes of His God, lost his faith. But maybe it wasn't great faith at all. Maybe we're putting him on too high of a pedestal and, therefore, his fall seems so great. Maybe it was love that drove him to Jesus' side. Maybe Peter was saying, "Jesus, I want to be where You are." Or maybe it was fear. Perhaps Peter saw being by his Master's side, exposed to wind and standing on contrary, turbulent waves --with Him --as a safer place to be than in the boat without Him. Not where experience would have told him was "safe." Not with his other friends who were panicked as well were huddled. Not spanning the distance of a raging sea. 

But ignoring the impossible, disregarding the conventional, and with Him.

Midweek: Wanted: DEAD (2012)

Evangelism. Personally, it's one of the most difficult things Jesus requires us to do. I am not an off-the-cuff sort of conversationalist. I am fine before large groups, even without notes; but one-on-one, looking another person in the eye, and telling them about anything --even telling them about myself --makes me uncomfortable. Oddly enough, however, I have been teaching a chapter on evangelism in our weekly Bible study, and as I walked the other morning with a wonderful evangelist, the topic arose. Broken To Breathless is my attempt at evangelism. Born out of gratitude and formed in the medium most familiar to me --the written word --it has proven the best way I know to prepare an answer, familiarize myself with Scripture, and share the Gospel with those who find themselves on this common ground. May the following post from 2012, encourage you to share the Good News of Jesus wherever you go! 

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Acts 20:24 ~

"However, I consider my life worth nothing to me; my only aim is to finish the race and complete the task the Lord Jesus has given me —the task of testifying to the good news of God’s grace."

In June 2009, I began Broken To Breathless.  I felt it was something God wanted me to do. I'm still not convinced He would have me abandon it, but several months ago the "inner voice" I've come to trust as the Holy Spirit within me said, "It's time to stop writing about this, and go out and live it." 

So, that's what I've been doing -- slowly stepping out of my comfort zone, reaching beyond my family and close friends, and walking without fear. My goal, Lord willing, is to share with you all my journey of obedience and my discovery of life. But just so you know, it begins with death.

The Lord blesses each of us; there is no doubt. As I walk through the woods on crisp fall mornings, or past dewy, manicured lawns in the spring, it occurs to me that all of this is a miracle. Genesis 3 tells us that because of mankind's sin, poverty, failure, death and decay were allowed to freely roam the earth; we chose that over relationship with a perfectly loving Father! Based on our choice, we should never even have the experience of love, or fragrant flowers, or vibrant colors, or the warmth of a child's hug. But God, in his infinite mercy and abundant grace has held the consequences of our choice in check and allowed us the pleasures of life amidst our preference for death! Somewhere along the line, may we become grateful for that; and if your experience is anything like mine, it begins like a spark inside your spirit and slowly grows to a raging fire -- one that cannot be contained, one that shines from the windows of your eyes and stokes the engine of your heart.

Three years ago, the blessings of family, and health, and happiness lit my spark -- the spark that led to Broken To Breathless. As I wrote, I searched the Scriptures for applicable verses, or to double-check my amateur theology; the pages of God's Word caught that spark and stoked a great fire. I loved studying the Bible! God's Word was with Scott and I as we returned to my home church, dealt with family situations, launched our own business in a terrible economy, tithed of our money and time to individuals and charities, and began experiencing a true evolution of faith. We share the Gospel of Jesus Christ whenever we can, but not just in words and not just within our own circle. The Gospel is living, and while it requires a certain amount of meditation and study -- hearts and minds, it requires arms and legs, hand and feet. The Gospel is hugging those to whom you never thought you'd speak. The Gospel is feeding those with whom you never thought you'd share your table. The Gospel is putting away all pretense, eliminating any preconceived notions, tearing down all walls, and dying to self -- becoming the arms and legs, hands and feet of Christ!

Always Welcome

We endured all of last summer with tarps and towels stuffed into the rafters of our brand-new canopy out back. My husband had done a beautiful job replacing our pop-up seasonal pavilion with a more permanent structure. He became busy with work, however, and was starting to see the effects of the heart issue he had unknowingly developed. (There's a blog lead-in if I ever heard one. More on that another day 😉) The inside work to our roof remained incomplete, and birds built their homes in the rafters. The mess they created on the deck below was unbelievable, and their kamikaze-style entrances under the eaves were startling. When the earliest round of tenants was through with their broods, my husband stuffed the rafters to prevent any further move-ins.

Just the other day, as the weather began to break, we watched a couple of mourning doves scope out the once again exposed rafters. Mama had already picked a spot, safe from the elements and out of reach of the local cats. (Sadly, our dog is terrified of our avian squatters and provides us with no defense whatsoever.) Papa was standing by awaiting her final nod before he headed off to find building materials. 

I love the sound of the doves. Their melancholy coos in the morning. Oh, how wonderful to give a home to these gentle creatures and watch them raise their little ones! But with birds --I know --comes a huge mess. We had to serve notice before they ever got started. But as my husband began making our canopy a little less enticing, the couple sat on a nearby shed waiting for him to let down his guard. Mind you, the shed is equidistant from our deck and the cedar tree in which the doves typically nest. Year after year, they've built their nest in its branches, finding it hospitable. Apparently, this year, they were looking for an upgrade. Their determination was wondrous to me. Birds so peaceful and mild, yet they were steadfast in waiting and watching for the opportunity to defy their eviction and rest where it was most suitable.

This morning I started in Psalm 91 (Alter):

He who dwells in the Most High's shelter,
in the shadow of Shaddai lies at night --
I will say of the LORD, 'My refuge and bastion,
my God in whom I trust.' 
For He will save you from the fowler's snare,  

Those who dwell in the Most High's shelter, in the shadow of Shaddai at night take their rest, they are not displaced. Not by the Owner, for He is willing and able to deal with the mess; He does not find it impractical or inconvenient. Not by the threat of enemies, for His dwelling is ethereal, high above claws and snares; He is well able to protect those in His custody. Not by life's storms or scorching sun, for we are well within His care, nestled so far under His eaves we feel only the refreshing mist of summer rains or the gentle warmth of its breezes; all time and space and weather --inclement or otherwise --is under His sovereign power and plan.

Are we, His gentle doves, fixed on Him? Determined to find shelter where it is most suitable? Are we stationed nearby, awaiting the opportunity to run to Him for rest and protection? Or are we flying around frantically plotting ways to resolve our relationship problems or searching for the resources we need to feel secure? 

Let us be like the birds, ready to roost in the shelter of the Most High, longing to lie in His shadow at night, safe from the storms and snares, and never unwelcome.

Worthless, Aimless, but Now Free!

We don't "do the bunny" at our house. Even as a kid, I always thought of Easter as some sort of second-rate Christmas. When the snow was gone, and all the glass Christmas balls were either smashed to pieces or safely packed away, there was Easter. It was something to do, something to anticipate. Not so. Our pastor calls it the "Super Bowl of the Christian World." This is it! The culmination of the Christmas story and the birth of eternal life's story. Our only tradition these days is worship. Celebrating the resurrection of our Savior! But what would you say if I told you I'd rather dig through chemical-laced plastic grass and pick tiny jelly beans from the bottom of a basket than be a legalist? Apparently Simon Peter would agree.

From time to time, I come across these "when-did-they-put-that-in-there?" verses. I've read the Bible cover to cover --more than once; I went to a Christian school, attended Sunday school, and spend as much time as I can studying Scripture, BUT every once in a while, there's that verse, the one I DO NOT remember seeing before. When did they put that in there? Hebrews 4:12 tells us God's word is alive, and by that, I don't mean changing, but it hits differently sometimes. It's like the method speech teachers or acting coaches use, where they make you say a multi-syllable word again and again, transferring the accent to a different syllable each time: SYL-lable, syl-LA-ble, sylla-BLE. 

Anyway, the WDTPTIT? verse --Okay, two verses --I was meditating on today, was 1 Peter 1:18,19 (CJB):

You should be aware that the ransom paid to free you from the worthless way of life which your fathers passed on to you did not consist of anything perishable like silver or gold; on the contrary, it was the costly bloody sacrificial death of the Messiah, as of a lamb without defect or spot.

Did you see that? "The worthless way of life which your fathers passed on to you." Worthless. The New King James Bible says, "your aimless conduct received by tradition from your fathers." Aimless. And handed down, preserved, taught to the folks Peter was addressing at the inspiration of the Holy Spirit. These people had "inherited" a tradition of legalism. And how legalism does decimate! The hypocrisy, deep and choking roots, confusion, abuse, pain, unbearable burdens, soul-crushing guilt, frustration, broken relationship, and death. What father would do that? A father who had himself been handed the same tradition, perhaps. Worthless, aimless, and yet, preserved and shared. Not even as valuable as a basket loaded with plastic grass or sitting on the lap of an underpaid retiree in a bunny costume. Those may seem like silly things to do, but at least they bring people together; they make for great pictures and yield laughs and memories. There is something profitable in those traditions; there is purpose. But a religion, an entire system of rules and conduct, a dogma handed down and observed for generations? God, through Peter, calls it worthless and aimless. He says we were redeemed from that, purchased with "the costly bloody sacrificial death of the Messiah," Jesus.

Remember the lockdowns of a few years ago? Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years --holidays and holiday traditions cancelled. People were losing their minds! What are we gonna do? No turkey at Tia's, no ho-ho at Holly's, no Auld Lang Syne at Andy's. Traditions mean something to us: routine, expectation, celebration. But legalism is worthless and aimless, a tradition that keeps us in bondage to exercises without meaning and manmade regulations without relationship. Not what God intended. Jesus came that we might have life; He gave His life that we might be reconciled to God through our relationship with Jesus. And, yes, we love Him so much, we become so much like Jesus we no longer act as we once did. We desire to please Him with our behavior, but it's relationship with our Savior that determines our "rules" of conduct. Every imperative of Scripture (what we are to do for God) rests on the indicative (who we are in our relationship with God), and the order is not reversible. We respond to what Christ has done by becoming who His work has made us. I like to envision a young child. He or she is the child of the king, the heir to the throne. His/her birth has made him/her so. However, there's a lot to be done before the child is ready to rule, to step into that crown. Education and training comes in the classroom and at the king's side. As the child submits to the lessons, he/she grows in wisdom and stature; that crown that has been reserved for him/her begins to rest securely and perfectly on the heir's head. And so it is with us. We are heirs, but there is education and sanctification that brings us closer to being who we are. Obedience, submitting to teaching and transformation, is how we respond so that we might become, by His grace and work, the heirs that we are. 

Following Jesus is not a "worthless way of life." It is not "aimless conduct received by tradition from [our] fathers." We are called by the Holy Spirit, and we respond with our obedience. And it is daily --not just at this time of year --we give thanks for the work we could not do, work enacted by our Savior's "bloody costly sacrificial death." Because of Him, we are free from legalism. If Peter was here today, he might just tell us Easter egg hunts make for better religion --at least there's chocolate!

Midweek: "You Will Be Haunted by Three Spirits..." (2010)

Happy Wednesday! When I wrote the following article in 2010, we were dealing with some interfamily issues, big problems with our little people. Time has passed, we are of an older demographic, but several of our friends are dealing with big problems with their big people. Some adult children have cast their parents aside, refusing to let them see grandchildren or have any sort of relationship whatsoever, because of "childhood trauma" --godly discipline or parents' failure to indulge their child's every whim. Some parents are aching from the pain of their adult children's addiction. Some are watching their children follow a path that does not include God or perverts His Scriptures.

In 2010, I began this article with a passage from Isaiah, but I'd like to include another that has been of great comfort to me since. I pray it often for our children:

Isaiah 49:25 

But thus says the LORD:

“Even the captives of the mighty shall be taken away,

And the prey of the terrible be delivered;

For I will contend with him who contends with you,

And I will save your children.

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Isaiah 32:3-8

 "Then the eyes of those who see will no longer be closed,

and the ears of those who hear will listen.

 The fearful heart will know and understand,
and the stammering tongue will be fluent and clear.

 No longer will the fool be called noble

nor the scoundrel be highly respected.

 For fools speak folly,

their hearts are bent on evil:

They practice ungodliness

and spread error concerning the LORD;

the hungry they leave empty

and from the thirsty they withhold water.

 Scoundrels use wicked methods,

they make up evil schemes

to destroy the poor with lies,

even when the plea of the needy is just.

 But the noble make noble plans,

and by noble deeds they stand."

As parents, what do we do when our child is being hoodwinked? Human nature urges, "Confront that liar and give him a piece of your mind!" -- or worse, your foot. Mom counsels, "Slow and steady wins the race. Just keep talking to him; you stay on the straight and narrow, and your child will too." The voice of Experience kibitzes, "It's deja vu all over again!" (Sometimes the little Jewish woman who lives inside my head sounds a lot like Yogi Berra.) Scott suggests, "We need the ghost of Marley to summon the spirits and show her what is really going on; to float her over there so she can see what is really being said."  Wouldn't that be cool?   

I don't doubt, many of us have to deal with an irresponsible relative who makes your child all manner of promises they have no intention of keeping. Or an ex who, motivated by sheer spite, deceives or coerces a child into abandoning those things -- or people -- he truly loves? Or a child who is so spoiled rotten by others, only you (or so it feels) are left to be the heavy, the tightwad, the funsucker? Will they ever see the forest for the trees?  God says, "Yes."

God is a God of justice, especially when it comes to people who lead His children astray or do them harm. God has hand selected you, the parent for His child, to do what is best for them. If you are walking with God, seeking His will and praying for wisdom -- for yourself and your child -- He will not let you down. What comfort we can take in His promises to us!

Kindness Tough As Nails

Let me acclaim You, O Master, my God, with all my heart,
and let me honor Your name forever.
For Your kindness to me is great,
and You saved me from nethermost Sheol.

~ Psalm 86:12, 13 (Alter)

My day begins with a couple verses from the Psalms. Not because I am that holy, or pious, or eager to wake up and give God His due, but because I am so easily distracted. I am so easily provoked. I am so easily misguided. I am, in a word, a fool when left to my own devices. So, as I meditated on this passage the other morning --Ash Wednesday, to be specific --I once again visited the concept of kindness. Kindness is typically the thing we encourage of toddlers as they first begin to interact with others. Kindness is what we ask of our children toward their siblings. Kindness is something we notice in a beautiful, unexpected bouquet of flowers from a faraway friend. Kindness is sweet and gentle. Not quite.

But see what Scripture has to say about kindness:

"...He is God, the faithful God, who is keeping His covenant and His [steadfast] lovingkindness to a thousand generations..." (Deuteronomy 7:9 AMP)

...I hid My face from you for a moment; But with everlasting kindness I will have mercy on you (Isaiah 54:8)

...the exceeding riches of His grace in His kindness toward us in Christ Jesus (Ephesians 2:7)

"...God's kindness is meant to lead you to repentance." (Romans 2:4 RSV)

The psalmist says God's kindness is great. In a world where superlatives like "awesome" and "the best" are tossed about like dirty socks to the hamper, the word "great" can lose its --well, greatness. Webster's 1936 dictionary defines great as "large in size; big," of course, but it adds "opposed to small and little; specifically, pregnant." Opposed to small and little! Pregnant; filled with life, waiting to burst forth! A little kindness just will not do. A dead or stagnant or reluctant kindness is not the kindness of God. God's kindness is great! 

Deuteronomy tells us His "lovingkindness," His hesed, is steadfast and powerful, sufficient enough for a thousand generations. Using figurative language, Moses is saying "forever." It will make it; God's kindness will not run out. It is covenantal as well. Like God saying, "As long as I live, I will demonstrate kindness." He promised His perpetual kindness to those who love Him and keep His commandments. He would deny Himself --His integrity, His character --if He were to break this promise. The prophet Isaiah wrote, God's kindness is everlasting. Everlasting! Another superlative. Again, Webster's 1936: "continuing indefinitely; hence, wearisome from repetition." God's kindness goes on so long, we can grow weary from it? No more, Heavenly Father! No more! I just can't take it! Well, I'm not sure about all of that, but it is eternal because He Himself is eternal. And His kindness is the impetus for His mercy.

Paul declares the kindness of Christ Jesus, His behavior toward others as He inhabited earth in human form, serves to provide us with an example of the kindness of our Father God. Gentleness, forgiveness, looking out for the interests of others, keeping customs and celebrations, studying and teaching among the devout in the temple, praying to His Father on behalf of folks. His kindness was an outpouring of the exceeding riches of God's grace! And meant to lead those around Him then, as well as those today, to repentance, to forsaking the way we live in error and sin. God's kindness is abundant and resurrectionary, able to turn hearts toward a life of heavenly living in a place that is currently ruled by perdition, able to turn our hearts toward righteousness and holiness when our flesh has been so long in bondage to sin and corruption.

And let us not forget just how far His kindness was willing to go. His kindness was poured out through scourged skin and puddled blue under beaten flesh. His kindness was stripped and thrown to the ground, trampled under leather and contempt, in the greatest display of injustice, irreverence, unkindness, and betrayal ever known. His kindness was pierced with thorns and a sword. But His kindness remained. Voluntary, steadfast, eternal, sufficient, death-defying, quickening, relational, exemplary (Ouch!), tough as nails. The nails that held Him in place to show you and me real kindness. 

Brutal Blessing

"Are those waterproof?"

Looking down at my Wellies and anticipating where she was going with this, I cautiously drawled out, Ye-e-e-s-s-s.

"Would you be willing to go in and get our water sample for us?"

I knew it. I also knew the creek I would be attempting to "go in." Having grown up in the area, not only did I know it was properly pronounced "crick," but I knew it went from three or four tranquil little inches to thirteen or fourteen inches of boot-swallowing muck when you least expected it. I reluctantly took the necessary equipment and headed down to the water's edge.

Gingerly I navigated my way through the brush so as not to incur the wrath of thorns and bramble, all the while trying to manage the steps of my ten-year old partner. Stop! Stay right there, I'd command. My word would be immediately obeyed, but as I moved on, so would he. Like trying to separate myself from my shadow. As I stepped forward onto the sandy bank, my other foot remained stuck --listening better, apparently, than my sidekick. I stumbled and immediately began falling toward the water. To stop my fall, I threw my arm behind me and grabbed at the first branches I could reach, branches loaded with small briars. Let me just say, I have been scratched by nature, I have been pricked by nature, but until you have had nature sink its teeth into your skin for all it is worth, you know nothing. Tiny spikes grabbed at my shirt and stuck in my sleeves. My foot remained lodged precisely where it had been. My hair had woven itself into the tangle of brush above me. And thorns tore into the flesh of my hand. The blood appeared as instantaneously as the pain, dripping into the creek around me. So much for an accurate water sample. As my son let out a yelp, I looked to be sure no one had seen the assault. Then I noticed my hand. The cuts were jagged and deep, thorns remained in my skin, and the blood flowed, bright and warm. Those thorns were so tiny, I thought. Nothing, really. But they were savage and unforgiving in their injury. My next thoughts turned toward the cross. 

Creek clean-up is something I enjoy doing every year. A local group sends out a solicitation for volunteers that, to me, signals the arrival of Spring. I enjoy traipsing through the woods and spotting wildflowers just beginning to bloom, finding evidence of animal activity. I enjoy it even more when the day is cooler and rainy --April showers assure the flowers of May will be glorious! It's like working with the Creator to prepare His landscape for the celebration of Resurrection. To find in it, on this occasion, such a poignant lesson of the agony of the cross, the precursor to His victory over death, was a generous gift. 

I really was stunned by the brutality of nature: tiny thorns humanity was commanded to subdue, brittle twigs I could crush underfoot, yet they did so much damage and caused so much pain. Jesus endured the cross, despising the shame. Everyone present saw the atrocity before them. On His head was placed a crown of thorns; thorns the result of mankind's disobedience; thorns that tore into His flesh and drew blood in crimson rivulets down His face. Merciless. Humiliating. Isolating. The accursed and ultimate penalty, reserved for one who takes a life, served by the Giver of life. His blood poured out for me.

I did manage to submit a water sample that day --a little farther upstream and with no further injury. But the living lesson I received for myself (and share with you) will, I pray, remain with me for a long time.

  

Midweek: There Are No Super Christians (2020)

Have you ever stood in the presence of another Christian and felt inadequate? I'm talking about a full-on brother (or sister) on a pedestal moment. I'll never be as spiritual as he is. We all might be more alike than you'd imagine. This reprint from November 2020 explains.

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"My name is Julius and I am your twin brother."

A smile begins to spread across Danny DeVito's face. "Oh, obviously! The moment I sat down I thought I was lookin' into a mirra."

The exchange takes place between Vincent, played by DeVito and his "not identical" (as Julius informs him) twin brother, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Julius' clarification, as you can imagine, is totally unnecessary. The differences between them are clearer than crystal. However, so are the similarities. As the movie plays out, we find their mannerisms are identical, the things they really want in life are identical, despite their more overt dissimilarities.

I have a friend who thinks I am some sort of a "super Christian." "You are so much further along than I a--" No, no I am not. "But you are so strong in the Lo--" No, no I am not. It bothers me, it really does. I cling to Christ because I vacillate. I seek the Lord because I am short-sighted. I move in His strength because I am weak. I am not super spiritual. The truth is, I am tethered to the Perfect, the Infinite, the Sovereign, the Eternal. He has promised to never leave me or forsake me; He has promised to help me, and He calls me "friend." It is when I ignore my relationship with Jesus and try to go it alone, you can see the real "me," the natural me.

I tell my friend all the time, "You have no idea how much alike we are." I say, "We are like twins separated at birth." I protest, "You have no idea what I am without Jesus!" I don't think I'm being taken seriously. The truth is, though, who I am today, the strong confidence I have that God is in control and working for my good, comes from years of walking with the Lord, hours and hours in the Scriptures, struggle after struggle and pain after pain. I was once in my friend's shoes. I could not, would not see how the misery would end. I wanted one day -- just one day in God's favor. "Couldn't He like me for just one day?" I whined to a sister in the Lord. She looked at me with such care in her eyes, "He does like you. In fact, He loves you," she said. "Trust Him and He will take you through it." Then, she said the words I have repeated to my friend so many times: "Believe me." She knew. She knew, because what I saw in her, that strength, the confidence and steadfastness, those things that, to me, made her some sort of "Super Christian," came from taking the hand of Jesus and holding on for dear life. 

In God's wisdom, His Scriptures reveal to us the failures, flaws and foibles of "Bible heroes." Noah drank, Abraham lied, Peter was a hothead and a coward, Paul wasn't one to give second chances. "Champions" of the faith, and yet, they failed. Sixteen second snapshots of any of our lives may reveal we are more alike than different. It's not hypocrisy; it's simple truth. In and of ourselves we are nothing but human. When we forget to Whom we belong, when we do things in our own strength, we can never be mistaken for any type of hero. 

There are no Super Christians. They just don't exist. From the time we say, "I do," we are engaged in battle. We are praying and reading and meditating and rejoicing and weeping our way through eternity. All of us. There may be days when Jesus shares with us His victory. There will probably be many more days, at least in this world, where we get a raw taste of defeat. But "be of good cheer!" Jesus has overcome the world. He is the superhero. He is just gracious enough to invite those of us made in His image along for the journey!

Obey to Thrive!

Years ago, I was invited to spend some time at a friend's home. Though I loved her deeply, she and I had some very different ideas about things like housekeeping and child rearing and meal preparation and, well, just about everything. When the topic of getting together came up, I would always encourage her to come to my place. I would plan a menu that seemed to suit us both, and I'd brace for impact, as her parenting was a bit more permissive than mine. I planned sleeping arrangements ahead of time, and tried to make her aware of anything in our schedules which might cause her inconvenience. I waited up until she and her children arrived --usually much later than the scheduled arrival time --and assisted them in settling in. 

The time came, however, when she insisted she demonstrate hospitality toward me. I reluctantly accepted the invitation. What I anticipated would be a short visit, however, was extended, and truthfully, felt extended. Her family slept late; we were early risers. Tip-toeing around, trying to entertain children and find the supplies necessary to feed them (and make myself a bowl of coffee) was a daily issue. My quiet time with Jesus was not only logistically impossible, but I felt a very unwelcoming spirit in the house. When the day began, it was spent in perpetual activity as if I wasn't there. Errands were run, television shows were watched, arguments were had. There was nothing to entertain or engage; there were no special trips to the local park or museum. Meals were not eaten as a group; everyone ate as they saw fit, and if we ordered out, it was "Dutch." My mind went back to childhood, to those occasions where the adults would talk and children were expected to be seen, not heard. I felt as if I'd been invited merely to be held captive, and I longed for home.

I was reading Jeremiah 29 the other morning. Judah was overcome by Babylon, and many of the people had been taken captive. They had been marched from their homeland some four hundred miles to a heathen, foreign land. Their exile was judgment from God whom they had forsaken. Nevertheless, He mercifully commissioned Jeremiah to exhort the people to obey Him.

Jeremiah 29:5-7 says:

Build houses and dwell in them; plant gardens and eat their fruit. Take wives and beget sons and daughters; and take wives for your sons and give your daughters to husbands, so that they may bear sons and daughters—that you may be increased there, and not diminished. And seek the peace of the city where I have caused you to be carried away captive, and pray to the Lord for it; for in its peace you will have peace. 

Their captivity would last for a time --seventy years, God said --but in that time, they were not to rebel or give up. They were to live! They were to multiply and produce fruit. They were to live as God's people in a foreign land, in plain view of its people. Their presence would be a blessing to the heathen citizens of Babylon for God's glory. Their prayers for this foreign power would demonstrate God's power --power given to His people to live in joy and fullness of joy, despite the environment. Their prayers would allow the people of Babylon to experience God's kindness, meant to lead to repentance. Their prayers would bless the country and hold its people accountable: they could not claim they'd never seen God nor deny His existence. Their prayers would transform their hearts to hearts full of love for their enemies and love for the God who was still with them. Don't struggle to survive; obey to thrive! This was their time to evangelize, to shine the light of God's love in a dark world.

My mind went back to that visit. Given the opportunity again, would I be able to do that visit in a much better, much more blessed way today? Would I choose to obey to thrive? Would I sing praise songs in the shower and as I stood helping with dishes? As I tip-toed around each morning, would I seek to cover every inch of the floor in prayer? As I sat on the sofa, balancing my dinner plate on my knees, would I give thanks for the way God provided for my friend and her family? Could I take my mind off my misery long enough to do what I'm told; to build, dwell, plant, and savor; to establish relationship, edify and multiply the blessing in my friend's life for generations; to receive the peace God has for me by seeking peace in this foreign land. 

Isn't that the opportunity we are given each and every day until we are summoned home?

Hear Ye! Hear Ye!

I have a constant companion --well, relatively constant. There are places she certainly doesn't need to be, and times when her loyalty to me is tested by someone upstairs opening a tin of butter cookies. But overall, where I go, Luci is not far behind. I was thinking about that when I read Robert Alter's translation of Psalm 89:15 this morning:

Justice and law are the base of Your throne.
Steadfast kindness and truth go before Your presence.

The Hebrew word translated "steadfast kindness" here is hesed. Hesed is a wonderful level of God's zealous love for His people. Hesed is often translated as mercy, grace. lovingkindness, and compassion, but none of these seems adequate to express the depths of the meaning of God's hesed. It's not just His warm, fuzzy feelings toward us, but a mighty, passionate, aggressive even, work of love. Hesed is an essential part of His character, infinite in capacity and endurance. Steadfast kindness, God's hesed, is the herald of His presence.

Truth, we know from the Gospel of John, is what sets us free --completely. Jesus Himself is truth, and we, His followers, are sanctified by His truth, His Word. The Hebrew word translated "truth" is emet, and is in some contexts equated with His faithfulness. Jesus' hesed and His faithfulness, or truth --integrity --go before Him like heralds before a King. 

In Medieval history, a herald was a type of royal diplomat or agent. The herald's word came directly to opposing armies as though from the king himself. It was important the communication reached the intended recipient, obviously, so heralds had to master the identification of the crests and symbols of various ruling houses. As a result, they became experts in the histories and lineages of the sovereigns. And lineage was crucial to character and credentials. Eventually, heralds took on the role of Master of Ceremonies at tournaments and would proclaim the virtues and qualifications of competitors. Their knowledge of the inner workings of the kingdom and foreign policy has allowed them to evolve into the heralds of today: counselors to the king in important matters of genealogies, family crests, and ceremonies. Today's heralds maintain authority with regard to familial names and family crests. Heralds testify to the legitimacy of an heir.

Having said all of that, and back to the original point, the hesed of God and the truth of God are His constant companions. His lovingkindness and veracity testify to His legitimacy, His credentials, and where they are, He is. But He does not follow them, He is them. Steadfast kindness and truth are His character which cannot be separated from Him. Acts of mercy and the upholding of truth indicate God is present and at work; they call us to worship the One True King. Conversely, the presence of the Lord guarantees mercy and truth are present as well. Those who walk with the Lord are accompanied by His infinite mercy and His perfect integrity. Lamentations 2:22, 23 promises God's hesed, His inexhaustible mercy is available to all His people, and the very name of our Savior and Brother is Faithful and True. If Jesus is our constant companion, the steadfast kindness and truth of our Lord is present wherever we go --present that we might know blessing, and present that we might be equipped to bless others and bring glory to God.

And He would never leave us for a butter cookie.

Midweek: Insert Coins Then Make Your Selection (2009)

This week I'm going with another reprint from "The Archives." It's been fun going back through some of the things I wrote years ago. Some articles assure me I wasn't as "off track" as I thought I was back then. Some posts are just plain cringe. But I'm leaving them there to show me (and you, if you'd like to do the research) just how far God can bring us. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Behold the simple vending machine:

...lots of options, simple principle -- you get what you want when you give it what it wants.  Works every time -- right?

        We have a couple of vending machines at work that work on the "slot machine principle" -- lots of coin in, just enough payout to keep you coming back.  From time to time I will pack some sort of snack or sandwich just to get around the frustration of dealing with those manipulative machines.  Eventually though, I am compelled to return, dropping in more money than I would pay for a family-size bag of some artery-clogging mess and paying twice the price for a warm, slightly expired soda, only to have the machine jam and dangle my Bugles before me like one of those stupid cat teaser toys.  I bang and fume and kick.  I turn as if some hidden camera crew is waiting to jump from hiding and joyfully reveal to me their ruse.  Satisfied no one is watching, or annoyed to the point at which I will not be beaten by an inanimate object regardless of an audience, I exhale, shrug my jacket sleeves up, position my trademark stilettos on the floor, and slam the top of the machine for all I am worth.  It rocks back, and I catch it on the return, rocking it back even harder.  In the end, I win -- forcing the machine to drop its dislodged bounty into the tray.  I open the door and retrieve it with a smirk of satisfaction, straightening my suddenly fabulous attire, and standing just a little taller, pleased with myself for putting the kibosh on that malevolent machine's unscrupulous practice.

        It occurred to me yesterday, that sometimes we treat God like the vending machine.  We put our money, our time, our faith in, and we expect to get just what we want right back.  "Have it your way."  "I want it all and I want it now."  "...right at your fingertips."  (Insert your instant gratification, self-serving, entitlement cliche' here.)

        How many times have we fumed and raged because we gave of ourselves and our precious dollars and "nothing came out."  We are still struggling to pay our bills, we are still pressed for time between carpools and clean-ups.  "When does God payback what He owes?"  Our sinful, ego-bound hearts seethe with perceived privilege; we are determined not to be taken advantage of!

        Or how often do we live "good, faithful, righteous" lives only to get those things we do not want?  "I never asked for MS!"  "I earned the good parents."  We all want to give that vending machine a kick or a shake just to get what we think we deserve.

        And the immediacy with which we expect results?  Feed the homeless here, get a bonus at work there.  We look at each potential windfall as God working to finally dispense the good fortune we desire, the reward we deserve, the paycheck we've earned in His service.  When our bounty doesn't fall, our frustration builds.  We become disenchanted with our very Savior, the One who gave His Life that we might live.

        I've received the "bounty at the bottom of the machine," and I've learned it was my arrogance and my foolishness that dropped it there and allowed me to walk away satisfied.  In the light of God's abundance and grace, it was offal for which I fought so long and hard -- a bag of six stale, broken chips and a warm, flat, dented can of ginger ale with something growing over the opening at the top.  God had so much more planned for me; how could I have been so pompous as to think anything I could squeeze from His hand would be better than what He could graciously give? 

In What World Is Adoption Normal?

Adoption is not normal. Think about it. You take a child --one of society's most vulnerable --you take a child you barely know, place them in your home, tell them you are his/her parents now, this is your room now, these are your classmates now, this is your neighborhood now, this is your family tree now, this is what we're going to call you now... This child, looking somewhat shell-shocked as expected, poses with you in pictures; they sleep just down the hall in a room that used to be an office. They now see themselves in photos surrounded by faces smiling as though this is the way things have always been. At night, they slide under the covers knowing the only people they can cry out to are people they've known for less time than it takes to pay off a bedroom remodel. And while it is the parents who wield most of the control, it's no less unnerving for them. Life has gone from feeling perhaps they should downsize to calling for estimates on an addition. The once heavy silence is now nerve-wracking cacophony. Days once spent sipping coffee, creating and cooking now hold barely enough time for meatloaf and boxed mac & cheese. Lunch with friends? How about six months from now? And a stranger moves about from room to room, touching picture frames that hold the images of those whose love came more naturally and writing his name in the fog created by his breath on the bathroom mirror.

But this was not mankind's idea. God instituted adoption long before it ever crossed our minds. In the Old Testament Pharaoh's daughter pulled the Hebrew baby she named Moses from the river and raised him in the palace as if he was her own. The book of Esther tells us the young woman, Hadassah in Hebrew, had no parents and was raised by her uncle. Scripture mentions people of other nations who were integrated into Jewish life (and the genealogy of Jesus!) and adhered to the Law and worshipped the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Romans 11 talks about the "grafting in" of Gentiles to the family of our Savior, and Ephesians 1:3-6 says those who are His were predestined to adoption.

At this very moment, I am listening to my husband and our son playing. When they are through and I have finished my work, we will sit down to dinner. We will wind things down shortly after that, preparing for a good night's rest and another week ahead. Our life with our son has taken on such a natural quality, I often remind myself he hasn't always been here. We have achieved normalcy, right? No. Simple misunderstandings have escalated to yelling, packed bags, refusals, failed attempts at redirection, "apologies" lasting mere moments until the infraction was repeated, broken promises, broken things, and broken relationship. Like adoption itself, this is not normal. This is the result of a curse, a curse that was brought upon all of mankind with the first sin. In a lush garden where relationship with God was intimate and love was normal, Adam, the representative of all mankind defied our God and brought condemnation to all mankind. Relationship with our Creator was broken. Can a relationship be anything but broken after that? The brokenness of that relationship is what causes us to act so wretchedly toward others and so self-destructively toward ourselves. The brokenness of that relationship is what leads us to the need for adoption and psychologists and all sorts of entities designed to fix other entities. The brokenness of that relationship is what creates in us a longing for "normal" and the need for wholeness. Adoption in this world, joining broken people to one another for the benefit of the whole, is a flawed attempt at repair. The adoption found in our Heavenly Father through Jesus Christ is perfect, complete in every way. The adoptee is safe, loved and guided by a perfect Parent. A special place has been created, and his/her name has been called as one of God's own since before the foundation of the world. Siblings are likeminded, life is made new, burdens are made light, the yoke is easy when the way is hard, and there are no strangers and aliens but us --us together, not us as individuals --placed here but at home with our Father. And while it may not be normal, while the impetus for it may be tragedy, adoption into the family of God is a gift. A means by which relationship can be established and love can be normalized again.

I don't think our adoption as parents, or our adoption of a son will ever come close to achieving that sort of wholeness; but I thank God we have been granted the privilege of imitating His perfect gift in one of the best ways available.  

Good Morning!

As for me --to You, LORD, I shouted,

and in the morn my prayer would greet You.

~ Psalm 88:14 (Alter)

Christmas morning, circa 1998. My children are young, and the level of anticipation is cresting. They are stirring after a restless night of sleep and I am, bleary-eyed, making my way down the stairs. No one moves until I say! I call out. I quickly dial the phone and get my mother moving from her house a short distance away to ours. I start the coffee --a personal necessity --and begin to create an atmosphere, flipping on lights as I go. Tree lights? Check! Lights in the windows? Check! Lights on all of the kitschy decor placed throughout the house? Check! One last check on the gifts and stockings. The back door opens. Nana is here. And Christmas may officially begin!

As I read the above psalm this morning, I thought about the anticipation of speaking with God, of welcoming Him into our messes and sacred spaces. In the morn my prayer would greet You. Imagine God awakening to the sound of your voice. You are so anxious to speak to Him, you awaken early to softly call Him to consciousness with your worship. Or perhaps, you are still going strong in your prayers and songs from the late hours of the previous night; you just can't seem to stop! You long for Him to round the corner or reach the bottom of the stairs. Look what I did for You! You are worth all of this! This is hyperbole, for sure, for the God of Israel never slumbers nor sleeps. But what an amazing challenge to us! Hello, God! It's me. I've been waiting for You. I was so excited, I couldn't sleep! I created an atmosphere to welcome You. 

What sort of atmosphere would we create? An "atmosphere of peace" --softly playing worship music, the cat purring softly beside you, maybe a candle burning? Not necessarily. Those things may help us be present, but not God. God is there amidst the driving rain, the crashing waves, and the howling winds. God is present in the pain and the chaos, the grief and the fear, the tears and the laughter. He is not distracted by the circumstances. He brings the peace. He IS the peace. In our hearts we "set the stage": desperation, longing, worship of God as our only Rock, our only Help, our only Source and Salvation. The atmosphere is a heart laid bare, transparent and honest. The atmosphere of a heart humble and needy. The atmosphere of willingness, openness to what God will do. The atmosphere of thirst, hunger for Him and His Word. We welcome Him because He alone has the words of eternal life! And we anticipate His perfect, wise, and good intervention!  

Midweek: Looking Out for the Good Guys (2021)

Welcome to Hump Day! I'm celebrating a bit because the situation mentioned at the start of today's reprint (from 2021) has long since been rectified --and better than I could have imagined! Please know that God is good no matter what the answer to prayer. And I am still praying for the "good guys." I hope you will too.

Just the other day I was telling someone about a situation that is at the very top of my prayer list. With every ounce of assurance and an almost angelic glow, I boasted, "God is going to do something amazing," Barely had the words left my tongue, when his face crinkled and his lip curled into a sneer. "He's not," he rebuked. "That's just the way it is; that's the way the world is. He's not going to do anything." And he walked off in disgust. His level of disdain came as a shock to me. My faith has been the target of his irreverent stand-up for years. He is "above" belief in an invisible deity of any sort. He believes he is "too intelligent" to submit to any higher power. And he definitely thinks God is a hoax perpetrated by the church to gain control over "little people" who are too weak to survive on their own. But the sort of bitterness and repugnance he exhibited on this occasion was new. 

Despite his derision, the guy is generally likeable. He has compassion for animals. He doesn't steal, or drink and drive. He takes good care of his family. He tries to take good care of his body. Without even realizing, I began to excuse his comments. How was he raised? How had he been hurt, to become so cynical? Surely, he didn't really mean it. The plain truth is, however, this guy is a God-hater; his words are only the evidence of rebellion within his heart. When he stands before God, his upbringing will not be an issue; who or what hurt him will be irrelevant. All his good deeds, his beautiful children, his manicured lawn, his promotions, his sensible behavior -- will count for nothing. His response to the Gospel is the only thing that will result in an eternal relationship with Jesus Christ or condemn him to hell. Right now, his response is pretty clear, and hell is his destination. But it doesn't have to be that way.

I tell you this because, I think, far too often Christians fall into the trap of believing -- at least on some level -- Satan's big lie: you just have to be a good person. We may not believe it for ourselves, but when it comes to preaching the Gospel to everyone we meet, do we skip over "the good guys," the ones that seem to have it all together, the ones who lead pretty respectable lives? As I've said, this guy has ridiculed me for my beliefs, but I guess it was just a little easier to hear him poke fun at me than say something so hateful about a good, good God. This guy has always been honest with me; I've always known where he stood. But his latest response has brought an awareness of his poverty I never had before. His latest response has shown me just how urgent his need is. His latest response means I can no longer see him as anything but lost, I can no longer see my role as anything but a watchman, and I can no longer speak only of what I believe, but I must speak of what he needs to believe. His latest response has caused me to be just a bit more mindful of, prayerful for, and truthful toward "the good guys."

Do You Care About Fair?

Cars in the drive-thru sat three abreast. I pulled behind the car in the outside lane, leaving myself the opportunity to rethink the decision to not go inside. Now, let me preface the rest of this scene by saying, this bank is notoriously understaffed and seems to have an incredibly high turnover rate. This, of course, means long lines and long waits.  

Maybe it won't be so bad, I thought. After all, I'm really only fourth in line.

Another row of cars began to fill in beside me. All three lanes were now two-deep with customers waiting to do their banking. 

The car ahead of me pulled off.

Terrific! Once the first cars in the other two lanes are helped, I should be next.

The car in the middle lane pulled away. The car in the inside lane pulled away. I awaited the friendly voice of a teller. 

And there it was! But it was coming through the speaker in the middle lane. Huh? 

Good morning! What are we doing today? This time, the voice emanated from the speaker in the inside lane! Oh, come on now, I thought. 

I watched as canisters shot through the tube and into the cradle outside each open car window. It seemed like minutes ticked away before the speaker at my window crackled and a cheery voice, clearly oblivious to my despair greeted me. Fair is important to us.

But is fair really what we long for? I mean, if you were to head downtown, do the man-on-the-street sort of thing, and begin interviewing random folks --What do you want most out of life? or What do you want most in this world? --would "fair" even be in the top ten of answers? Things in this world can be pretty unfair, that's for sure, but why does no one demand fairness above all of those other things? Joy, family, winning the lottery, healing, world peace. Fairness usually comes to mind when we are being treated unfairly.

America is a country where most of us --I think --believe "fair" is something to which we are entitled. All men are created equal, etc., etc. When we don't receive fair treatment, we raise our voices, we demand it of others. And, if you're sitting in the drive-thru at the bank, chances are a voice comes back at you through the speaker apologizing profusely for neglecting your rights, you continue with your transaction, and you go about your day, maybe relating your story to a person or two, but generally, forgetting the incident. For a country that alludes to fairness in its founding principles, we have certainly learned to deal with the unfairness that comes with existing in this world. When we don't experience fairness, we are --whether on social media or behind our backs --met with callous judgment. Life's tough, get a helmet. Life isn't fair, get over it. No one goes through life thinking everything is in actuality, fair. In fact, right now, I'm being met with someone (I know you're out there) saying, What's your point?

That is my point. God is fair. Totally, completely, perfectly fair. And yet, it is on Him we lay the most judgment, the most responsibility for the unfairness we experience. How many times have you heard of people who turned their back on God because He didn't handle things as they imagined? Reality fell short of their expectations, and it was God who was deemed unfair, unjust. All of our comparisons --MaryBeth got the promotion and I have worked for it for years, and The Davises have a perfect lawn and they don't even aerate --are fallacies, meant to distract us from who God is and what He is doing. Instead of praying for others or rejoicing with them, instead of gratitude for things God so graciously gives us --things He, in His wisdom and lovingkindness has determined are best for us --we are like petulant and spoiled children, complaining and looking over the fence to things that aren't meant for us nor good for us. Fair is ridiculously important to us when we believe we are being treated unfairly; when we don't get, things must be unfair. We suddenly become gods with full knowledge of what is best for us, what we should have, what we are owed, and how quickly it is to be delivered. But if fairness is going to be important to us, we should completely and with the utmost clarity understand what we are due and what we have been given. Only God is truly fair. And only God, through Jesus Christ, has created a way by which His fairness is satisfied and our lives are spared. We are, without Christ, deserving of death. Whatever blessing we receive in this life is not only fair but undeserved, bestowed on us by our Father who knows us better than we know ourselves and loves us as much as the dear Son He sent for our redemption. Thanks be to God for His unspeakable gift!  

Sacrificing Stuff for the Benefit of Others

How do you bless others? A smile? A generous tip? Bottled water for your mail carrier? These are terrific ways to enrich someone's day --even your own --and be a living epistle and ambassador of Jesus Christ to those who are watching your life play out. However, there's something to be considered: the greater the sacrifice, the greater the blessing. If kindness is reciprocal or stems from social pleasantries, who cares? I mean, good, we should be kind; but what is the cost? Generosity out of abundance doesn't --or shouldn't --make the front page. The greatest acts of sacrifice come from those who have been emptied, those who have been through "stuff." 

My bank account was emptied by cyber-thieves, but I can still offer to clean the church bathrooms. 

I've lost a child, but I can teach Sunday school to yours. 

My RA leaves me barely able to move my hands, but I can pray for our nation. 

Maybe it's the little "stuff." Maybe you juuuuuust seem to get clear of one difficulty when, BAM!! along comes another. If it's not day after day of uncertainty or a series of health problems, it's constantly robbing Peter to pay Paul or tenuous relationships. (Just a quick note: When going through difficulty, worship! If we aren't worshiping, we become susceptible to ingratitude or self-sufficiency. When "stuff" hits, allow God to be God: spend your time waiting on Him by giving Him the glory He is due. Ingratitude and self-sufficiency cannot exist when our burdens are surrendered to His hand.) So, back to the "stuff" sacrifice is made of...

Robert Alter's translation of Psalm 84:5-8, says:

Happy are those who dwell in Your house,
they will ever praise You.
Happy the folk whose strength is in You,
the highways in their heart,
who pass through the Valley of Baca,
they make it into a spring --
yes, the early rain cloaks it with blessings.
They go from rampart to rampart,
they appear before God in Zion.

The Valley of Baca. Depending on your commentary, the Valley of Baca was an actual dry valley or a metaphorical "Valley of Tears." Either way, think hardship. Dry, arid, no sign of life or sanctuary, weeping, nights without sleep, loss. But they make it into a spring! These children of God, who dwell in His house, who make God their strength refuse to be overcome by barrenness or tragedy! I'm not talking about false bravado or manifesting deliverance by speaking it; I'm talking about them knowing God had their lives in His hand, knowing He is sovereign over all things --the just and the unjust, the joyous and the grievous --and declaring with confidence, He works all things for the good of His children! They knew their God! We who know Him today can praise Him. We who know Him today can sing and smile. The "stuff" becomes our sacrifice: because we have gone though it or are going through it, because our eyes are on our blessed Help and Consolation, we can encourage others and give when we are sure we have nothing in our tanks. We can do the impossible. This "stuff" has fattened our sacrifice, made it more costly, and we can worship with our obedience! Being kind when others have been unkind. Attending church when someone there has offended us. Being gentle with a child whose fears have kept us up most of the night. Driving our daughter to yet another rehab. Our tears become a spring, a life-giving spring for anyone who sees them and bears witness to our story. We can sacrifice because we are joined in fellowship with the One who sacrificed for us. We can lead others to Bread and Living Water.  

Even the going through and going through again and going through again might just be the way others will be blessed; this might just be the way others will dance under the free-flowing, purified water of the Spirit! As people move in and out of our lives through the years, those who are paying attention will see the same message repeated over and over: God is my God --and He is good! --no matter my circumstances. The assurance is (v.8), those who dwell in the house of the Lord, those whose strength is in the Lord, though they pass through the valley, they go from rampart to rampart. God's people are not going from issue to difficulty, from tragedy to trial; we are moving from rampart to rampart, from shelter to shelter, from salvation to salvation! Every trial we endure, is an opportunity to witness our Father working on our behalf. Every valley is an opportunity for the Most High to demonstrate His goodness and sovereignty. The betrayal of a friend is where we are assured our help comes from the Lord, and He is faithful to care for us. Illness is the opportunity to feel the presence of God through it all, and know He is good in all His ways. Injustice teaches us how much our Savior loves us no matter what others say, and He is Truth. The way to bless others is by the sacrifice of our lives, the moving from rampart to rampart. 

May our "stuff" not only teach us, but bless others as they learn the same lessons about our Master!  

Midweek: Food for Thought (April 2024)

As we continue in this Lenten season, a time of meditating (hopefully) on the passion of our Lord, I'd like to share with you this post from April 2024, Food for Thought. How resolute are you in your belief of all the Scriptures tell us? Those around us should be able to answer that question by watching how we live our lives.

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I'm currently reading Frank Morison's Who Moved the Stone, an oldie but a goodie. In short, it is an apologetic on the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. At least, that's what the back cover of my edition states. But it's provided me with so much more: food for thought and a clearer picture of the events leading up to the murder of Jesus. Today's food for thought came as I was reading about the guard posted to secure the tomb at the priests' request. Morison writes:

It is usually contended that the excuse given to Pilate (viz., that the disciples might steal the body) is wildly improbable; ...the behavior of the disciples shows that they had not apprehended or believed Him;

Did you notice his statement regarding the disciples? The disciples, by their behavior, demonstrated their lack of belief. After the crucifixion, they went into hiding; they grieved the loss of their Leader. On the road to Emmaus, recorded in Luke 24, the two men associate themselves with the women who discovered the tomb of Jesus empty that morning: they refer to them as "certain women of our company." These were followers of Jesus, and what was their response to His death? We were hoping that it was He who was going to redeem Israel. The morning after the Sabbath, why had the women gone to the tomb? To finish the burial process sunset stole from them on Friday. They were shocked His body was gone and demanded to be told where it had been taken. With Jesus' final breath, all hope left this group.

But the religious authorities, the priests and scribes, that "brood of vipers," what did they believe? By their actions, they demonstrated belief in the power of all Jesus of Nazareth had said! This prophet from a backwater town who vexed them and challenged them all throughout His ministry, they believed His words would --at the least --incite some sort of funny business! Now that's some food for thought right there! If the enemies of Jesus are more convinced of His authority or His charisma than His followers...

Why would anyone who doesn't believe in the power of prayer be upset if you prayed over your lunch at the local McDonald's? Listen to those who are crying out for Jesus to be erased from history or the Ten Commandments to be removed from public places. Are they more passionate about their cause than we are about our Savior? Do those who deny Jesus spend more time advocating for the poor, hosting strangers, fighting for justice, looking out for their neighbors, and caring for creation than we do? Are their more non-believers at the gym, fostering children, donating to the women's shelter, raising money for cancer, sending out Get Well wishes, coaching t-ball, or attending Overeaters Anonymous than there are believers? When my boss cuts my hours, is it my Muslim coworker who talks me out of panic mode? Is my Buddhist neighbor kinder and gentler toward her children than I am? Was it my Mormon friend who pointed out the beggar in the doorway, or did I have my coat off long before she mentioned it? What we believe --what we truly believe in our hearts determines our behavior. 

The Jewish leaders were more convinced of Jesus' impact than His own disciples. They took precautions to secure the tomb! To them, Jesus had given His followers something. A fire had been ignited, a fire they feared they were unable to extinguish. Were they right? Almost every one of the twelve were eventually martyred for their faith, and the truth of the gospel has spread far and wide. Hard to imagine anyone willing to give up their life for something they didn't believe whole-heartedly. 

So, I'm sharing some of my food with you today. Has the hope of victory, the hope of eternity died with you, or does the passion of Jesus' life, death, and resurrection burn so brightly in you, others can't help but be convinced?