When It's Time to Call the Professional

"If thou lift up thy tool upon it, thou hast polluted it."—Exodus 20:25. 

This morning’s “Spurgeon” pointed out that while this verse originally made reference to the Temple of the Old Testament, it clearly speaks to us today, of the Temple of the New Testament and the sacrifice of the cross.  Spurgeon says that as human beings, we desire to add or take away from Christ’s sufficiency by focusing on good works or penance as a part of salvation; this focus elevates us as authors, designers, and craftsmen, bringing the glory to us rather than the Deserving One.  As God expressly forbade the use of human tools on the physical structure of the Temple, a foothold for repentance and salvation to the nation of Israel, we, His chosen of today, are no more permitted to defile by our touch the redemption He has provided us in the very being and offering of His Only Son, Christ Jesus.

I love puzzles, math problems, and can't resist a challenge.  Discovering the unknown gives me great personal satisfaction.  It’s that satisfaction that can get me into trouble.  Personal satisfaction is just a polite way of saying pride.  Doing it myself, experiencing a sense of accomplishment is fine, provided I am ever mindful of “from whence cometh my help.” (Ps. 121:1, 2) “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” (Phil. 4:13)  Conversely, without Jesus, I am nothing; "without Him was not anything made that was made." (John 1:3, 4).  Christians are not self-deprecating; we are self-aware.  I know what I am capable of, with and without Jesus.

Without Jesus, I am a do-it-yourselfer.  The diy network has a show called "Renovation Realities," which shows you what really happens when folks try to do it themselves.  Blown budgets, fights, injuries, tears.  As a do-it-yourselfer, I've had my share -- and not just during home renovations!  I can't even deal with people some days without losing my temper.  Without Jesus, I am a liar, a thief, a gossip, a bungler, no kind of friend, wife or mother.

But with Jesus, I am forgiven, redeemed, perfect, patient, honest and kind.  Some days, obviously, I lean on Him more than others.  Some days I encounter people I just cannot tolerate.  That's when I need to give it over to Him.  No sense "laying it on thick," as my mother always said.  No sense trying to run the other way; you can't pretty up a pig.  She doesn't like me, and I don't like her, but Jesus loves us both.  He can take care of it, and He deserves the honor.  And, so long as I can keep my grubby little paws off of it, that's just what He'll get.  The minute I try to take it back and fix it, I am serving no one but myself, seeking the pride of doing it all on my own, and setting myself up for miserable failure.  Sure, God may give me the victory for a time, but without humble obedience to Him my "temple" to self is destined to come crashing down.  

Look Again

My husband tells me I'm wonderful.  My husband tells me I'm beautiful.  But is it me he really sees?

Psalm 115:1 (NLT)

Not to us, O Lord, not to us,
but to your name goes all the glory
for your unfailing love and faithfulness.

God loves me enough to have given me a wonderful man like Scott.  Do I think for one moment He will not give us what it takes to make our relationship work?  No way.  God seeks to be glorified.  God deserves to be honored.  God works for His own recognition and worship.  That means, God will help me be a helpmeet to my husband.  God will help me keep my mouth shut when it does not need to be open.  God will turn my eyes toward Scott and Scott's eyes toward me.  God is changing me everyday, and I am praying that it is to be more like Him.  I have only to surrender to His way.

God placed Scott and I on this earth for each other.  So that when I look at him, I feel warm and silly inside.  So that when I am happy I have someone who appreciates my happiness, to share it with me.  So that when times get tough I have a strong man to lift me up or give me a shove in the right direction -- whichever is best at the time.

But best of all, God gave us love for each other so that when we see each other, think of each other, pray for each other, we can not do it without thanking Our Heavenly Father for His unfailing love and faithfulness.

Fear Less

Daniel 3

Who hasn't heard of the fiery furnace?  There's even a state park that bears the name.  But outside of Sunday School, somewhere around the age of ten, seated between the adorable Kenny Sagers and that twit, Patty Astin (who spent the entire class sniggling and whispering to her equally twitty girlfriend Stacey) when was the last time you really looked at the account?  I remember as a kid, thinking, "Cool!  God can do anything," and I'm sure that's part of the message here.  But did I ever stop to think, "Cool!  I can do anything!"?  I mean let's look at the participants as well as the events...

Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego, according to general consensus, appear to have been around 18 years old.  Just stop and recall what you were like at 18.  Got it?  Let's move on.  They were Jews -- devoted, orthodox (small "o") Jews -- living in a Babylonian world.  Just a recap:  Babylonia -- earthly luxuries; worldly entertainment; a cultural center known for excess; a place in which "anything goes" was not the standard, but "anything encouraged" was.  "Being in the minority" doesn't quite describe the situation of these three young men.  (I like to image myself and my two best friends on Lady Gaga's tour bus.)  Now, bring in the enormous golden idol!  Imagine the sea of people, dwarfed by such an imposing figure; some may have fallen to their faces out of fear.  Cue music, and -- wait!  "Are you deaf?  Did you not hear the music?"  The three youths, who one might believe would have been best served by remaining as anonymous as possible, tower over the rest of the masses.  (Here's where I hear Marisa Tomei in My Cousin Vinny:  "Oh, yeah, you blend.")  So, it's off to the fiery furnace -- but first, Nebuchadnezzar, merciful king that he is, wishes to give these obviously touched, Jewish boys another chance.  What is their response?

v. 16 "O Nebuchadnezzar, we do not need to defend ourselves before you."

Are you kidding me?  The insolence!  But these young men had no need to fear an earthly king; they were subjects of the King of All Creation.  The simple knowledge of God Almighty's supremacy freed them from any grip Old Nebuchadnezzar could possibly have on them.  As subjects of the King of Kings, they had real power!  And they did not answer to some megalomaniac who put his tunic on the same way they did every morning.

Then, v. 17 "If we are thrown into the blazing furnace..." 

"If?  Who said anything about if?  You broke the law; you are still refusing to obey my law; you know what's coming to you."  But Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego were open to anything.  Sure, the king said "fiery furnace," but what did the King say?  Earthly edicts and ultimatums aside, they knew God had a plan; though they may not have known exactly what it was, they trusted Him to do what He knows is best.  Wow.  How often do we put conditions on God's redemption of us?  "OK, I'll stop doing    ?   , if you'll fix it this way," or "Give me a sign," or "I trust You, God" as we're tossing and turning all night, sick with worry all day, unable to imagine what God's Plan might be, unable to see it unfolding.  It is our job to ask and then trust God's mighty hand.  Anything beyond that, and we're trying to do His job.

But, back to v. 17 "He will rescue us from your power, Your Majesty." 

"He will."  Faith.  Pure.  Simple.  As certain as if they'd said, "King, you will one day die."

v. 18 "But even if he doesn’t, we want to make it clear to you, Your Majesty, that we will never serve your gods or worship the gold statue you have set up.” 

Again, speaking with bravery that would be difficult to find in most thirty-year olds, "NO MATTER WHAT, we will keep our committment to God."  These you men weren't fearing death.  They weren't thinking of being remembered as fools, defying the king, and suffering the consequences.  They were committed to the consequences of following The King!  The idea of God allowing them to burn was not a deal breaker for them.  God doesn't leave His children in the lurch.

v. 20  "...and cast them into the burning fiery furnace."

What was God's plan?  To fry them?  Well, not quite, but they were sure close.  Does the Bible say they began to scream in fear, cry out in pain, beg for mercy?  No.  There they were, amidst fire and flame, and Jesus standing with them.  He didn't take them by the hand, lead them out, or even quench the flames, but there He stood, with them.  Notice too, that the king actually had to call them forth.  They weren't running out in some pancked frenzy.  Ironically, the very same king who sentenced them to cremation, wide-eyed and in awe yelled, "Get out and get over here!"  I think of my attempts to get the kids out of the bath, long after it has started to go cold, and their lips look like raw liver.

Lastly, v. 27 -- They didn’t even smell of smoke!

I love to grill.  But the smell?  Yech!  I can hardly eat for want of a shower.  I'm not sure what they were using for fuel in Nebuchanezzar's palace in those days, but didn't most of these ancient civilizations use dung?  Um, dung smells.  And it's no bed of roses when it's burning either!  But not a singed hair (I can't make that promise when I'm straightening my hair) or a scorched robe (or ironing).  Not even the smell of smoke! (or, apparently anything else, for that matter)

I am nothing without Jesus, but with Jesus I have courage, power, certainty, and the faith to stand out in a crowd.  His power is within me and I have nothing to fear. 

A Walk on the Styled Side

So, I'm walking into work this morning.  Mind you, the walk from the guard shack -- yes, we have guards, ("screws," I think they call them in prison) and barbed wire.  I used to think they were for keeping derelicts out; now I know the derelicts are on the inside.  Anyway, the walk from my vehicle to our office is no small march -- probably a quarter mile, give or take.  So, I just clear the guard shack, when lo, from the opposite end of the walkway I hear (in a feigned Yiddish voice),

"Baawbrwa!" 

I immediately think, "Lord, no.  Can it be?"  Then, upon considering myself too vain, dismiss it, and continue my early morning stroll.

Now, the usual walk goes like this:

You have your occasional encounter in which the approaching person makes eye contact, cheerfully wishes you a good day, or good night.  The greeting is immaterial, as we have a twenty-four hour building, continuous and overlapping shifts, crazy sleep patterns, and no one truly knows if it's anyone else's day or night.  In fact, my mother used to get a little perturbed when I'd come home from work at 8:30 in the morning, and crack open a beer.  Her 8:30 AM was my 5:30 PM.  She never got it.  But, I digress.

So, other encounters with folks exiting the building range from reunions (particularly around the holidays, when everyone is working extra hours and we're so fatigued we'd all be better off not driving home, and we see people we haven't seen since last Christmas!) to someone pushing someone else right into your walk path, nearly crippling you both, to someone (perhaps from England) walking on the wrong side of the walkway, blabbing profusely on their phone and refusing to move from your path, to someone spitting at your feet just as you pass.

This morning's encounter was like no other.  As I approached these two women, one chirps a very cheery "hello," almost making me think I've been remiss in recognizing a long lost cellmate or something. 

"Good morning," I chirp back.  Her friend immediately starts to giggle.  Now I'm looking over my shoulder at the two of them, as we're stopped dead in our tracks.

The speaker confesses, "You look like Barbra Streisand!  I love it!"

"I've heard that since I was 'this' high," I say disgustedly, holding my palm down about my knees.

"You do!" she says.  "It's great!"  As if I'm going for that look.

No offense to Ms. Streisand, but I've never taken that to be a compliment.  After all, when you're 8 and your friend's father tells you at a party, that you look like someone almost 25 years older than you, someone who sing "old lady music" (as opposed to the Partridge Family, I suppose) you want to crawl in a hole.  Besides, it is one of my most obvious features that creates the illusion of similarity -- my nose.  Yep, me and Babs -- big schnozzles.

However, I've been doing some research on line.  Ya know Barbra Streisand circa 1968 was incredibly talented and absolutely adorable.  And in 1976 she was one hot tamale!  No wonder my parents refused to let me see "A Star is Born."  I still can't bring myself to pull it up on Netflix without feeling like I'm surfing internet porn.  My parents left an impression, let me tell you!  Even at close-to-seventy, Streisand is still going strong.  Maybe being compared to a multi-talented, award-winning, fabulously stylish, rich woman isn't so bad. 

I'm not sure I have the lips for it, though.  Maybe collagen?  Hmmm...