This Rivalry Is Guaranteed to End in a Win!

Rivalries. Sometimes they're just for fun. Our pastor and his wife like to play "boys vs. girls" when they get together to play games with family. They laugh and joke late into the night. Other rivalries can be a little more serious. Like living in the shadow of Philadelphia football, in a neighborhood that has what appears to be an abnormally large fanbase for the team from the Lonestar state --'nuf said. The season begins with equal trash talking from both sides. Each side knows its team is the better of the two, and we count on the passage of time to bear that out. Once the actual Ws and Ls begin to accumulate, things begin to change. Refs make "bad calls," teams get "robbed," history gets rewritten, and the rivalry gets serious. It becomes even worse when the schedule brings the teams together in competition. Trash talking erupts into cursing and bottles thrown. Team loyalty morphs into animosity toward one's opponents. 

I was thinking, however, about a more historic, more significant rivalry. Good vs. Evil. Strange how throughout humanity, we have exchanged stories of such a contest: mythology, morality plays, comic superheroes, 007. We not only love to see Good triumph over Evil, we love the tension of the foregoing struggle. 

When it's not ours. 

    When it's safe within the pages of a book or on a screen.

        When we are assured of a favorable outcome.

Sometimes our lives can be something of a rivalry. We want to do what's right, but old habits and past coping mechanisms continue drawing us back. Ephesians 4:22 (CJB) tells us those old urges, our old nature is thoroughly rotted by its deceptive desires. Thoroughly rotted! That, in and of itself is bad news, but "one bad apple spoils the whole barrel," right? Left unchecked, rot spreads. 1 Peter 2:11 (CJB) tells us it's a constant struggle --our old nature warring against the new in Christ. In Romans 7, Paul even wrote about his desire to do what is right, but the internal struggle that was taking place despite his best intentions:

For what I will to do, that I do not practice; but what I hate, that I do.... For I know that in me (that is, in my flesh) nothing good dwells; for to will is present with me, but how to perform what is good I do not find.... I see another law in my members, warring against the law of my mind, and bringing me into captivity to the law of sin which is in my members.

It is a rivalry that has caused us all from time to time to join the Apostle in crying out, O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? There is no love of tension there. 

We feel like failures. 

    We wonder if God will ever love us again. 

        We hear the enemy whisper what frauds we are.

But thanks be to God who gives us the victory through Jesus Christ! (1 Corinthians 15:57) We are assured that the work He has begun in us, He will complete. We have only to position ourselves, reading His Word, obeying what we are told, praying for ourselves and others, fasting, worshiping, pursuing Christlikeness in every facet of life, crushing and squeezing out our old nature by strengthening the new. And His grace will do the rest! Grace teaches us and trains us, transforming our hearts and giving us the inner strength to not only want to do good, but the ability to do it. 

So much more goes into developing a successful team than heading out on the field to do battle with rivals. There are hours of studying plays and highlight reels; there is proper nutrition and training in the gym; day after day of practice, running the plays that were studied. And is it all executed perfectly on the first attempt? No, of course not! In fact, there are all sorts of variables that can impact the success of a play. The same is true of the rivalry in our lives, the desire to do what is good pitted against the familiarity, the muscle memory of doing what is wrong. Thank God for His grace! Your inability to quit smoking doesn't make you a failure. God hasn't stopped loving you because of your addiction to porn. If you are struggling with gossip, you're not a fraud; you are a human being. One who is running, training, disciplining yourself so that with every passing day, your rival, your old nature loses ground, and your new nature grows under the action and direction of God's grace.

Too many football seasons have ended with Birds and Cowboys alike commiserating on some middle ground --The enemy of my enemy is my friend --but whatever the final score, whatever the outcome as you sit biting your fingernails in a darkened theater, whatever the words on the last page of your favorite novel, the outcome for those of us in Christ is certain: When we see Him, we shall be like Him. (1 John 3:2) Good will triumph over Evil, of that we are assured.  

Pros and Cons

Hard work. Training. Hours in the gym or hitting the books. These are the steps --we're told --to becoming a professional. But these days, we have professional athletes, professional chefs, professional entertainers, professional designers, professional exterminators, professional teachers (professors), professional landscapers, professional gamers, professional animal trainers --it seems as though everyone's a professional at something. Did they really put in the work? Did they receive some special sort of commission or certification? And, if so, from whom? Can one declare oneself to be a professional? 

Alright, so let me throw some amateur etymology on you today. Stick with me. According to Webster's 1936 Collegiate Dictionary, to profess could mean to pretend, or to claim to be (implying one is not truly) something. To confess, however, is to declare adhesion to, to admit as true; almost as though there is a greater burden of proof or level of commitment than mere profession. It appears better to be a confessional than a professional. But that's 1936. When comparing the etymology (the history and development) of these two words, confession seems to have its origins in the late 14th century, and in its religious sense, referred to someone who stood fast in their affiliation with faith despite the disapproval of others (think Edward the Confessor). However, profession originated much earlier, around AD 1200, and was associated with the vows taken upon entering a religious order; publicly declaring one's faith, and rendering one susceptible, possibly, to public disgrace or other consequences should that vow be broken. To be a professional, or to profess anything was a solemn and significant matter of public accountability. Was.

Therein lies the reason for the Grammar lesson. Scripture tells us, if we confess with our mouth the Lord Jesus, and believe in our hearts God raised Him from the dead, we will be saved (Romans 10:9). Confess, stand fast in our affiliation with Jesus Christ! Not simply profess allegiance. Now that's Bible! The world has placed such value on profession, specifically calling oneself a professional. Children on basketball courts or football fields everywhere are dreaming to "go pro." We pay professional litigators and professional entertainers ridiculous money. But it's those who confess Jesus, who believe in the depths of their hearts in His resurrection, who will be saved; a confession of Jesus that's willing to face disapproval or die defending it. It's interesting to me, the concept of confession has held its value throughout the years. Confession still brings to mind an act of integrity or upright character, while profession can be separated from virtue and moral distinction.

So, are you professing to be a Christian? Are you using the title but not really at the top of your game, not really putting in the work? Are you receiving --or hoping to receive --the payout, but haven't really taken up your cross, died to your own plans and desires? Are you pretending? Or are you a confessing Christian? Are you regularly before the Lord, subjecting yourself to examination by His Holy Spirit that you may confess and be forgiven, restoring the intimacy of your relationship with Him again? Have you noticed your life and your being developing a congruency with the truth of God's Word, your heart becoming reconciled to your mind and body --all of you reconciled to your identity in Jesus Christ? Can you admit your emptiness and powerlessness apart from Jesus? Is glorifying the Father in concert with His Son your greatest aspiration? Are you prepared, under any circumstance, to confess Jesus before the world, despite disapproval (or worse)? Let us be confessing Christians who would have the integrity of our confession borne out by the desires of our heart and the fruit our life bears. And if our professions would hearken back to the days when they were honored and public vows, let us all be professionals.

Midweek: Step One

Would anyone like to share something they've learned as we've studied the First Step? the leader of our Twelve Step program asked.

Yes, I said, I had to keep reminding myself it was the first step. Appearing perfect is a huge part of my history. As a child I learned that life was much different behind closed doors than it was, say, on a Sunday morning, before the congregation of our large church. Going through a program that I might conduct myself soberly as the Bible commands can be difficult for someone who is doing the work but still meeting with "failure." Why aren't I fixed yet? Why am I still finding this difficult? Why am I still finding myself drawn to the same old habits? The short answer is, it's a twelve-step program for a reason. The first step --I admit that (by myself, without Jesus) I am powerless over my addiction; that my life has become unmanageable --is just that, a first step.

I remember saying The Sinner's Prayer, "accepting Jesus into my heart," when I was a young child. I wanted to please the grown-ups and, quite frankly, I wanted the accolades. I wanted to be special, to have people celebrate my new birthday, and to be "fixed." I craved those things so badly, I said that prayer almost every time there was occasion to do so. But each time I returned to the "old me," I was pretty sure Jesus had packed His bags and left my heart within a day or two of moving in. What those grown-ups had failed to explain, or what I had failed to grasp was that praying any sort of prayer surrendering one's life to Jesus is simply the first step. Generally speaking, the Holy Spirit does not wave a magic wand and instantly transform habits, circumstances, proclivities, and desires the moment a prayer is prayed. Generally speaking, and I think I'm safe in saying, more often than not, there is work to be done. 

We realize our need for a Savior. 

    We recognize Jesus as the Savior of the world. 

        BUT there is work to be done.

"Doing the work" in a recovery program seems to be modeled after working out one's own salvation with fear and trembling. In my case, maybe more so, as my "addiction" is more of an addiction to sin than anything else. Can I pass a Qdoba without wanting to stop in? Sure, I can. Can I pop on social media and still obey my alarm when it sounds? Yep. Can I go shopping without slapping down the "emergency" credit card and promising myself I'll pay it right off? No problem. But can I obey when I'm upset and uncomfortable and looking to self-medicate in some way? Can I obey when I've got it in my head that I want what I want and I want it now? If I'm seeking to be honest, not always. Addiction demands I give inferior people, places, and things control over my life. Sobriety demands I obey the Lord of my life. But there is work to be done. 

Think of all the things in life that take time. We don't ask people how to get from Point A to Point Z, right? We're happy just getting to the next place. If you're reading this right now, chances are you've done a lot of growing since you were a toddler. You'd have had a pretty tough time driving to work last week if you were still just three feet tall. The sun takes hours to move from one side of your yard to the other, warming the ground where you've planted those tomatoes as it goes. We understand the process and the benefits of it being a process. The process of recovery --from addiction and from self-indulgence and sin --begins with acknowledging the problem; but it is a process thereafter. It is a day-after-day obedience to the One who is perfect Truth, who loves us and is willing to forgive us, who remains with us and guides us, who died and rose for us that we might have a fresh start and a new nature, who is sovereign over all, and promises the work will be completed (providing we submit) in His time. When we fall short, we don't become discouraged; we don't beat ourselves up because we've failed or abandon the work. We confess our failure and draw closer to Him. We reconcile ourselves to God and thank Him that He hears our prayers. We trust He is with us every step of the way.

   

Challenge Accepted!

Challenge accepted! I teased. A friend had just given me an assignment: Find each of the Twelve Steps in the Book of Lamentations. As the days passed, as I began to pray and to search, Step One which was present in abundance (I admit that --by myself, without Jesus --I am powerless over my addiction; that my life had become unmanageable.) was the only one I could find. But I kept at it. This is difficult, I'd sometimes think to myself. But I kept at it. I didn't complain, I didn't doubt, I didn't question my brother's wisdom or the implied claim that all twelve steps could be found; I just kept going, certain I would eventually get it. Why? Because this leader, this friend, this brother, this one who had never proven himself anything but trustworthy had charged us with finding them.

Can I say the same about every task to which my Savior leads me? Can I say, Challenge accepted! as enthusiastically as I blurted it out at our meeting? Can I, when things become difficult, merely notice the difficulty and continue forward? Can I trust that because my Leader, my Friend, my Brother, the One who has never proven Himself anything but trustworthy has given me something to do that it is entirely possible? not only that it is possible, but it is possible with Him as my ever-present Help? Do I have as much faith in my Savior as I have in my leader?

When Jesus speaks, Follow Me, do I look over my shoulder --first the right, then the left --hoping He's not speaking to me? Or do I drop my work, forsake the trappings of my immediate existence, and follow? When Jesus casually invites, Let us cross over to the other side, do I examine the skies, check my schedule, and calculate the level of difficulty? Or do I hop in the boat, pull up a cushion, and fall fast asleep in the company of the One the seas obey? When I hear the sounds of His work around me and feel the touch of His hand on me, do I recoil? I'm not sure I like the way You are working. Or do I submit? Thy will be done. When I read of His promises and the wonders He has performed for His people, do I allow that encouragement to be snuffed out by the feeble bottom line of a bank account or the echoes of generational curses? Or do I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the same God who cared for His people throughout history and promised eternal reward to His followers long ago is the same God who longs for my trust today? 

What I choose to believe is revealed by how I follow. If I believe what Scripture says about Jesus, His deity, His virgin birth, His death and resurrection, and all that does for the reconciliation of mankind to our Creator God, how can I not follow with my whole heart? How can I not follow immediately, assuredly, explicitly, and passionately? How can the troubles of this life receive more than a passing citation, and my King, my Savior, my Teacher, my Commander, my Shepherd not be lavished with all the glory He is due? How can I not carry on undaunted and resolute, knowing the very Way, Truth, and Life is calling me to do His work? How can I give up when the training is rigorous, or the labor is tedious? It is my Lord who leads the way. He is perfect and omniscient; He is trustworthy and omnipotent. He is Faithful and True, and will see me to the Finish Line of every race He calls me to run. I have only to agree and obey. Challenge accepted! 

Returning Home

Something about it all seems so wrong. How can I ask Jesus to bail me out of the mess I have knowingly --many times, rebelliously --made? Do I overeat, consuming one thing after another until bags are empty and my soul feels full? Yes, but what else am I to do about my screaming insides and panicked mind? Do I over exercise, knees pierced with pain and back aching? Of course, but how else to undo what all of those calories have done. Do I overschedule, overdo, and overcompensate? How else am I to be enough? Do I mindlessly, mentally checkout, snapping and snarling when summoned from my self-made refuge? Why can't people handle their own business? 

And now, here I am. I've established these habits and this way of doing life, but I'm finding myself powerless against these knee-jerk reactions. I know they're unhealthy. I know they're unholy. But from the first time I was tempted to avoidance and sloth, from the first time I succumbed to consumption as a means of sating some emptiness, from the first moment I used busyness or mind-numbing scrolling as bricks in a fortress around my fearful and insecure heart --from the first time I gave in, my sin began not only to wrap her claws around me in a deadly grip, but to further sink her claws in, resolved to never let me go. I was informed; I cannot say I was not. Don't give it a second look. Don't walk that path. But I chose it then. Fool around and find out. Searching for a way to cope, self-medicating then; only to find myself powerless against a self-destructive habit now. You made your choice. Indeed, I did. I opened that door. I begged sin to enter, to sit and keep me company, to be to me what only a true Savior can. But, at the time, I had no one, no one to model alternatives, no one to walk me through that mire in healthy, life-giving ways. Or did I just choose to hide my struggles, to bury my shame and go it alone? Nevertheless, fifty years later, I am living with ghosts and demons; ghosts who remind me why the demons are there, and demons who tell me they are in the ghost-busting business. But ghosts know only to haunt, and demons know only to lie. Who will save me from this grave? Is there any who would rescue? Will the God I have disobeyed, the God I dishonor each time I seek solace in the carnal --will He hold out His arms to me and welcome me home? Is it not the height of hubris to disregard His Word then call on Him when I am crushed under the weight of my own inability, when the famine has come and my stomach groans? Why should He deliver me from the mess I have made, from the entanglement into which I stepped all those years ago?

Isn't this what we are taught about the Father in the Parable of the Prodigal? This willful, disrespectful son, lost in the darkness of his self-seeking could not have returned home unseen and without the joy of his father. His father awaited his return; as does mine. This father pulled him to himself, kissing him with the affection of one to whom all is forgiven, and lavishing him with delight; as does mine. This father clothed him, gave him a symbol of sonship, and placed shoes on his feet, freeing him to leave home again, but intending for him to do so as his father's image bearer; as does mine. The father defended his returning son --not because he couldn't find fault, but because he chose not to do so; as does mine. The power of the Father to receive, delight, forgive, provide, and defend is the only power to which the powerless can come and be healed. Jesus does not "bail us out" --not the addict, the sinner, the faithless, the weak. He died in our place, in a great exchange: condemnation for righteousness, the Righteous for the condemned. It is greater than a bailout; it is new life, it is resurrection. Thanks be to God!

Midweek: The Alexander MacLaren Study Bible, NKJV

Alexander MacLaren was a Scottish Baptist minister and expositor. He was a prolific writer of sermons and expositions throughout a career that spanned more than sixty years. He could deliver his deep insights with a simplicity even the uneducated could comprehend. The complimentary study Bible I received from Thomas Nelson Publishing is their tribute to MacLaren's copious research and eloquent style. 

The greatest struggle I encounter when reviewing any Bible is what to do with it when my review is complete. We have more than our share of Bibles in our home, and I generally pass them on to various friends and ministries. But when I receive an edition that is particularly unique and appealing or contains the wonderful discernment of a trusted spiritual leader, I find it hard to part. I was almost certain that would be the case with this Alexander MacLaren Study Bible. Sadly, not so. 

There are many wonderful features of this edition. From Thomas Nelson's website:

• Book introductions exploring each book’s background and key themes with insights from Maclaren’s work
• 1,400 study notes that cover every chapter of the Bible
• 380 Christ Connection notes showing the relevance of Christ to all Scripture
• 380 Life Lesson application notes to help you live out the Bible’s principles
• 209 Passage Outlines based on Maclaren’s sermon outlines
• 8 essays addressing major doctrines of Scripture, personal devotion to Christ, and how to properly apply the Bible to your life
• Comprehensive concordance and index of features
• Bottom of page study notes
• Center-column cross-references
• Line-matched, double-column typesetting
• Clear and readable 9-point NKJV Comfort Print®

The cover of my copy is black and grey Leathersoft™ with silver gilt-edged pages, and two double-sided satin bookmarks (Each are of a different color so, if you are sharing your copy or are working on multiple topics or studies, having two distinct markers is a nice option.) I appreciate the "Christ Connection" notes as a way of tying all Scripture to Christ and drawing us back to the focus of our study. The "Life Lesson" notes are helpful as well, causing for us to pause and consider our response to Scripture. The "Passage Outlines" are interesting, but I would personally appreciate more in the way of study notes. As I mentioned, MacLaren was a prolific writer and expositor: I realize a single study Bible could come nowhere close to a set of his Expositions of Holy Scripture. However, in comparison with some of the other study Bibles I have reviewed (I'm thinking, specifically, of the MacArthur Study Bible) the commentary and expositions in this edition seem somewhat lean. The NKJV concordance is extensive, directing the reader to more than 6,200 words and phrases, almost 400 pages of entries. Again, I would have loved if that room had been given over to more of MacLaren's insights. As for the essays, unless I am really losing my touch, I could find no index with regard to the "8 essays addressing major doctrines..." I was able to locate five of the eight, and they were strategically positioned: How to Apply Biblical Law in Leviticus, How to Apply Biblical Wisdom in Proverbs, for example, but without so much as a list of titles, I could not begin to tell you where to look for the other three. I do love the cross-references in the center column of each page, but I do not love the way the graphics and font from one side of a page bleed through to the opposite side of the paper.

Overall, I was rather disappointed in this edition. Given the "hype" on the first few pages of the book (MacLaren's name on the presentation page, MacLaren's name on the endpaper, MacLaren's name on the title page), I expected more input from MacLaren's huge body of work. If, despite my opinion, you're interested in purchasing a copy, it's suggested retail is $69.99, but
Amazon is currently offering it for $47.98, and christianbook.com sells this edition for $41.99 (shipping is free with a code "FREESHIP50" on orders of $50 or more).  

Please Pass the Mustard

I was cleaning up from breakfast in the kitchen of our church. Yes, our church serves a free breakfast to our community every Sunday morning. Not just some doughnuts and coffee, mind you; pancakes, bacon, sausage, and whatever other sweet treats "someone" bakes and provides. It was that very someone who walked into the kitchen that morning and began helping me tackle some dishes. We talked as we worked, and she shared with me about something she'd seen on Instagram: 

When Jesus spoke about having faith like a mustard seed, He wasn't pointing to the size (a popular, time-honored interpretation); He was referencing the nature of the mustard seed. It's invasive. 

Oh my, I thought. That answers so many questions! 

When I got home later that day, I wondered if I could find the post. I Googled "Instagram mustard seed invasive". I was completely unprepared for what I saw. Post after post mentioned "invasive mustard seed plants." Some featured pictures of enormous fields ...a beautiful sight if it weren't for the fact that the plant is actually invasive black mustard. And helpful instructions ...garlic mustard is a harmful invasive species that can take over your woodlands and yard, preventing native plants from growing. Here's what to do: One post called it aggressive and pointed to its centuries-long presence in our country. Another described it as "stubborn." Another celebrated the receiving of a grant to remove the species on the basis of its effects on native plants and --Get this! --its flammability! This stuff is not only beautiful and savory; it not only transforms the landscape; it's not only next to impossible to eradicate; it's not only historically embedded ...it is incendiary! You can imagine the kind of damage that occurs when field after field of mustard begins to dry out, something ignites it, and the wind begins to blow. Hundreds of acres impacted by one tiny seed. 

I did find the post my sister saw; I'm sharing it here: Instagram. What's been swirling around in my head, pinging from lobe to lobe to lobe is all the times I've quit -- or wanted to. Things "got really difficult." The temptation to do it my way was "just too great." I was afraid. But isn't that what faith is? Doing what God commands even though it doesn't make sense to the world, even though it's hard, even though it hurts, even though it seems like the wrong thing to do? Had I watered that seed, had I warmed the soil of my heart with the Word of God, had I fed it with the testimonies of those who have great faith, what sort of yield would my faith have produced? Our faith --my faith is to be such that the once that seed is planted and tended, the likelihood of its survival is downright threatening! Other plants around me don't stand a chance because my faith will gobble up every square inch of ground and choke to death those things that are contrary to the will and Word of God. Now, I'm not talking about an abrasive, look-at-me sort of faith; one that takes Scriptures out of context and "decrees and declares" to get God's cooperation. That's probably more along the lines of hubris than faith. I'm talking about a faith so powerful in nature, so strongly rooted, so stubborn that dahlias of doubt, forsythia of fear, tulips of temptation, daisies of despair, wisteria of weariness --well, you get the picture --that no other thing can shake it. Unshakeable, un-uproot-able faith. 

And then there's the wildfire. In those days when our faith is tested, and may truly be all we have, as leaves begin to curl and we wonder, How long? --so long as we are held fast by those strong roots and standing day after day in the presence of the Son, the Holy Spirit breathes His life into us, igniting our faith to an even greater thing. The landscape of our hearts, our neighborhoods, our world is changed by its flame; swaths of ground are burned and reformed to make room for new growth. All because of one tiny seed, falling to the ground, and taking root. 

Is my faith set ablaze and stoked by the breath of God's Holy Spirit? Are others being impacted by the steadfastness of my faith? When my time has passed, will fields of faith remain because I chose --just this once --to stand in faith?

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