The Extra Chair from the Basement

I think every family has one. Maybe it's in the office or the spare bedroom -- wherever. It's the chair we pull out when we've got an extra mouth to feed. "Get the extra chair from the basement," someone yells, and we sit it right alongside the rest of the chairs at our table. We welcome our guest to eat whatever is served, as much as they'd like, and join with us in our conversation, our laughter, our sometimes questionable table manners, our "family time."

Today, the extra chair came out of the basement. Not a huge stretch when you've got a family of six to feed everyday, but it is a blessing when one of yours comes home. Thing is, I hadn't really planned. Last week was a whirlwind of activity and emotion; grocery shopping and meal prep took a backseat to much of what was going on. So, we opened the fridge, surveyed the meager inventory of leftovers, formed a rainbow of plastic containers across the table, and sat down to eat. Not one person went away hungry, and we still had left over leftovers.

Just this morning, I was reading about another dinner guest. In 1 Kings 17:8-16. the prophet Elijah was commanded to leave Brook Cherith and go to Zarephath, about eighty miles away. God had commanded a widow there to provide for him. By the time he arrived, the widow was at the gate of the city, gathering sticks to build a fire. It was to be her last, as the widow and her young son were on the verge of starvation: she was baking one final bread cake and preparing for death. But, Elijah said, (I am paraphrasing) "No worry. Just make my small cake first; then you and your son can eat what's left." What man of God takes the last bit of food from a starving widow and her child?! But there was a promise: "The Lord God of Israel says, 'The bin of flour will not be used up, nor the jar of oil run dry, until the Lord sends rain on the earth.'"

"So, she went away and did according to the word of Elijah." And what was the result? "She and he and her household ate for many days. The bin of flour was not used up, nor did the jar of oil run dry." Because of her obedience? Obey and be blessed, right? Yes, but let's not be simplistic. This poor woman got "the extra chair from the basement." She didn't question Elijah's presence. Why in the world would God send to her, a widow, another mouth to feed?! Widows were typically cared for -- not the other way around. And there was a famine in her land! We don't see a struggle over the jar of oil. That handful of flour, the puddle of oil in the bottom of her jar, were all that stood between her son and death! Who was this man to take that from her? But she held it all loosely. Like the widow in Luke 21:1-4 -- "she, out of her poverty, put in all the livelihood she had."

You know, when I'd first read the widow's response to Elijah's request, I'd thought of it as a bit of refusal; but perhaps it was more like this: "When your God first told me to provide for you, I wanted to -- I really did. But that was so long ago. You took so long in getting here, and things took such a turn for the worse, I've got nothing left. How am I to help when I have so little that I am planning my death and the death of my son?" None of that came as any surprise to God, however. The widow's willingness to care for others, despite her material circumstances, created the opportunity for God to provide for her and all that were in her home.

Today, a blessing in our home brought "the extra chair from the basement." When hearts are willing and hands are open, that extra chair can bring blessing for many days.

A Quiet Place of Grace

Early one morning, I found myself sitting in my truck alongside a dark, winding airport road. I'd called roadside service and received the usual song and dance about extremely high caller volume and abnormally long wait times. I didn't believe it. I've gotten a lot of use out of my membership through the years, and never waited more than an hour. So, at first, I sort of did nothing -- filed a rough fingernail, checked out the contents of my glove box, listened to the sounds of the road. But time went on, and I began to think, maybe there was something to this whole "abnormally long wait time" thing.

Why was I here? Why, just two miles down the road, were my coworkers doing something -- my work -- yet I was doing nothing? Why had I gotten dressed, out the door, wasted fuel, only to sit here? What would I do if I needed a bathroom? Questions I couldn't answer or, in the case of the last one, didn't want to think about. So, I began to pray. When I'm having trouble going to sleep some nights, I pray the alphabet. I begin with one friend or situation starting with "A", and keep on going, letter by letter, until I fall asleep. (If your name is Vivian or Zelda, I apologize; I rarely make it past "G".) This morning I made it all the way to "Z", and still no tow.

Every life, every season needs prayer, but this season of our life seems to require more than others. So, I began praying specifically for our situation, the folks directly affected in it, those we have met along the way, those who will be involved in the future, and so forth. When I got to some personal things, I asked that God would not allow others to see my failures and shortcomings, that they would not be dissuaded from following the Lord because of my screw-ups. "Hide my inadequacy that You might be better glorified and many would come to know You." God responded faster than that tow!

Through the darkness of my situation, above the chirp of crickets I heard the words of Paul:

"And He said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for My strength is made perfect in weakness.'"  -- 2 Corinthians 12:9a

Had Paul prayed as I had? Was he asking God to remove his "thorn in the flesh" not that he might be more comfortable or carry on the ministry with more vigor, but that others might not see his weakness or deficiency and reject God because of it?

I know what it's like to live with hypocrisy. My children know what it's like to live with hypocrisy. And it can be devastating to the truth of the gospel. I'm sure Paul, as a former Pharisee, was extremely sensitive to pietism -- especially his own. I'm sure he would rather have lost a limb than known a soul was repulsed because of any perceived duplicity or incongruency on his part. What if Paul had a tendency to be persistent when the situation required a bit more compassion? What if Paul's patience was perceived by others as being "soft" on bad behavior -- tolerant even? Perhaps Paul was a bit of an over eater. Imagine how such a habit might have plagued him to the point of begging God to remove it -- for the sake of the gospel. But God said, "No."

It's not about me. Or my inadequacy. Or even my sin. It's about the grace of God revealed in our worst moments as well as our best. If others can see what a control freak I can be at times and know that Jesus loves me enough to put me in situations that are completely out of my control in order to make me more like Him -- who wouldn't want to follow a Savior like that?! If others know how arrogant I can be and witness God humbling me -- and hear testimony of how He continues to humble me -- that I might be the "me" He designed with a purpose -- who wouldn't want to know a God like that?

We may not like our fear of public speaking, or our ineptitude at providing comfort to the grieving, or our short tempers, or our impatience, or our propensity to procrastinate, or any of a multitude of things that discourage us in our ministry, but God is not finished with any one of us yet. He is sanctifying us as we daily relinquish control to Him. He is transforming us as we seek after Him moment by moment. He is speaking to us and teaching us as we pray and sit silently before Him. Along a dark, winding airport road if necessary.

Are You Striving for Normal?

A few short years into my illustrious management career, I had an employee call out of work. He wasn't sick, he just wasn't going to be at work because he had to go to prayer meeting. I remember being incensed. "That's what's wrong with most 'Christians.' They want to use the name of God to excuse bad behavior. His shift starts in thirty minutes, and no one has prayer meeting at 7 AM! Who calls in praying?!" My rant that morning has remained with me; my previous opinions have not.

As his supervisor, I had an obligation to address this man's attendance and review proper procedures, if necessary. But judge his Christianity? Nope. If he lied, if he used poor judgement, that's between him and his Master. (And I don't mean as Christian brothers and sisters we ignore the sins or risky behavior of others; but we do lovingly address them if we have opportunity.) The way he exercised his faith was not my call. What if he had just received word of a special gathering to pray for an urgent need, and felt it necessary to be there? Would he have been a "better Christian" if he had said he was sick instead? His call stood out that morning -- it was almost thirty years ago, and I remember it as though it were yesterday -- and perhaps, as Christians we are meant to stand out.

I read somewhere that Christians shouldn't be "weird." We should let our light shine in a relevant and natural way. That, if we wish to be effective in ministry, people should have trouble distinguishing us from "regular" people. Wear yoga pants and get tattoos. Serve mixed drinks at Bible study. Throw in the occasional Top 40 song during morning worship.  Be cool so people will want to be like you. But is that really what Scripture says?

"Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind..." -- Romans 12:2 

"Do all things without grumbling or disputing, that you may be blameless and innocent, children of God without blemish, in the midst of a crooked and twisted generation, among whom you shine as lights in the world," -- Philippians 2:14-15 

"But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for His own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of Him who called you out of darkness into His marvelous light." -- 1 Peter 2:9 

"Do not love the world or the things in the world. If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him. For all that is in the world -- the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and the pride in possessions -- is not from the Father but is from the world. And the world is passing away along with its desires, but whoever does the will of God abides forever." -- 1 John 2:15-17

What about John the Baptist? Surely people recognized him wherever he went. Even Jesus' own behavior was extraordinary -- loving when He, by the world's standards, had every right to hate; remaining quiet when He could have not only defended Himself, but called heavenly hosts to slay His accusers. We are to be different. We are to be unique -- not for our own glory, but that others might see our devotion, our courage, our calm, our integrity, our perseverance, and want to be like the One who has transformed us. It's great to want to be relevant, but so much more important to be obedient.

Francis Chan, in his book, Crazy Love, speaks of a missionary who had his teeth pulled after a series of absences from the mission field to resolve dental issues. Who does that? Someone who is not afraid to be thought of as different or a little fanatical for the sake of the gospel.

I once saw a man who shaved only half his face. He was faithful in ministry, and God used this man's unique appearance to draw people to him. He had at first thought it strange himself, but received several indications from the Lord, this was what he was being called to do. He complied with no further consideration toward what people thought of him.

The truth is, we can be hip, freaky, or perfectly unremarkable, but without God's anointing, all we do, all we say, all we are won't guarantee a harvest. Without the blessing and direction of God's Holy Spirit, all our "relevancy" is nothing but our own effort to be what we think the world wants and needs. Shouldn't we be seeking that direction from the One who knows the hearts of all men? Shouldn't we strive to be obedient, even if it means being a little less conventional?

How to Host a Dinner Party

I've done things of which I am not proud. Not at all. One of those things is a dinner party. Crazy, right? Well, a friend of mine had begun dating a young woman who, in my not so humble, completely unsolicited opinion, was a terrible choice. My friend had been a bachelor so long, and had done well for himself; I feared he was an easy target for the gold-digging, pretentious, label hog I'd judged her to be. I decided to scare her off or, at the least, set her straight. I invited my friend and his new sweetheart to a dinner party. I also invited my friend's ex-girlfriend. I bought expensive wine and trotted out the latest gourmet recipes. The ex-girlfriend and I talked at length about her shore house and all the "expensive" things we had in our closets. We were obnoxious, catty and treated this poor girl dreadfully. But, the same wonderful, gracious nature that caused my friend to see the good in a young, magniloquent woman, saw the good intent in what I had done. He still spoke to me despite my antics.

How different from the dinner party we see recorded in John 12:1-8. It occurred in Lazarus' home six days before Jesus' last Passover on earth. Did Jesus know what would happen in less than a week? Well, maybe not, but His knowledge of Scripture and prophecy, and His close relationship with the Father had to have given Him some sort of inkling His time was near. If I am able to see signs and feel excitement without knowing exactly what God is about to do, surely the man Jesus could.

"They made Him a supper." They, being Lazarus, Martha and Mary, tended to the human needs of their dear friend. They sought to nourish His body, and have the type of closeness people find sitting around a table, laughing and talking over a good meal. Such a simple, common, human event, arranged with care for the Creator and Savior of the world.

"Then Mary took a pound of very costly oil of spikenard, anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped His feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil." 

• "Then": During dinner? After dinner? I think of the times I hosted parties. The sounds of utensils scraping across dishes. Laughter. The chaos of dishes being passed around or cleared from the table. Drinks being refreshed. At no time do I recall pausing to hear the voice of the Spirit that I might humbly bow before a single guest and lovingly serve them. What a sweet spirit Mary must have had to, amidst the ruckus and clamor of a house filled with hungry men, be able to hear the voice of God.
• "Mary took": She obeyed what she heard. How bold she must have been to quietly, steadfastly obey in the presence of all these onlookers. Did she even realize the room had become quiet? Did she feel the eyes upon her? Or was she so enrapt with the One she sought to adore?
• "Very costly": This was the real deal; oil typically used to anoint the heads of kings, a sacrifice of the most extravagant kind. Mary's personal net worth notwithstanding, no one in a temperate, socially-minded culture would liberally pour out an entire pound of such a rich substance. Whether Mary had money to burn or not, this act cost Mary a place in the "judgment free zone."
• "Wiped His feet": Mary went the distance. She didn't pour a bit in the palm of her hand, rubbing it in, the dry skin on His feet absorbing the oil. She lavishly poured out her entire sacrifice and wiped it from in between His toes, massaging it into cracked heels, and kneading His aching arches, all the while, allowing the fresh air to revive softened flesh.
• "With her hair": What humility. I'm sure Mary did not awaken that morning thinking, "How can I abase myself today?" What a deep desire for intimate communion with her Lord. She applied the remnants of His anointing to her hair, satisfied even to take upon herself all that remained (Matthew 15:27). That which blessed Jesus was a blessing to her as well, a byproduct of her obedience and worship -- the fragrance and conditioning of the finest oil upon her hair.

"And the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil." How this one act must have caused all those present to pause, to see Jesus as One adored. How the fragrance remained in their nostrils even upon leaving the house. How the memory of what had transpired remained with them for years to come. Mary listened. Mary obeyed. Mary risked. Mary worshiped. Mary humbled herself. And blessing came into that home. Now that's a dinner party one can be proud of.