We Will Serve the Lord Loudly, If He Requires

It was almost three years ago when Scott asked, "Remember how quiet it was before we were doing God's work?" I can't even recall the circumstances, but the naivete of that question has become so obvious to me. I want to travel back to that moment, lay my hand across his lips and say, "Don't. Trust me. Just, don't."

All joking aside, Mom is turning ninety this year. For her eighty-fifth, I packed her bags, took her to breakfast and home to our house. That was five years ago, and she's been with us ever since. It was evident she could no longer live alone. For days she asked when she could go home. We did all we could to reassure her, to try to protect her dignity, to make things "homey" for her, and to help her adjust. But the adjustment was not only on her.

Scott and I had worked around our opposing work schedules for years. I had my days to clean and write and study my Bible, and dote on him by cooking his favorites. He had his evenings to watch whatever he chose with no running commentary from me. 😏 Now, I had Mom trailing me from one end of the house to the other, staring at me as I read or ate or checked the mail or fed the dogs... Sometimes I'd give her something to do; within minutes she'd forget what she was doing, or give up in discouragement. Scott, who was accustomed to coming home to a happy, Type-A, introvert wife, now walked in the door from work each day, and was greeted by a woman bleary-eyed from watching multiple episodes of "The Rifleman" and thoroughly exhausted from having someone in her bubble all day. After an entire thirty minutes or so of quality time together, I'd head up to bed, he'd grab a quick shower and begin "Mom"sitting for the remainder of his evening, a time of day when she is at her uneasiest. Our home was no longer our own, and neither was our time. Nevertheless, we adapted. When Mom's condition would take something else from her, we'd try a new thing and another new thing until we were able to manage again. And then...

Just over a year ago we got word of a situation. Some children -- two to be exact -- were in need of housing. There was no question about stepping up; the looming question was "How?!" They were young, preschool; we were old, pre-retirement. I was to begin seeing a rheumatologist for what my family doctor believed was scleroderma. We had just been through a rough season financially and emotionally, but had saved enough for a restorative getaway or two, and had a few kind souls willing to help with Mom. All of that was about to become inconsequential very quickly. God was calling us to work, and trust, and pray in a way we'd never dreamed.

In fact, Scott and I dreamed of going to Africa. We dreamed of a non-profit which provided home repairs to those in need. We dreamed of rescuing more pit bulls. We dreamed of serving God in our neighborhood, in our church. We dreamed of Bible studies and gatherings in our home. All of which, we believed, were some really good dreams. All of which left us relaxing in quiet on our deck, breathing in crisp evening breezes, counting stars and patting ourselves on the backs. Obviously, not what we would admit was our initial motivation, but could I see that happening? Absolutely. God's dream, at least for now, is that no one goes home. The service we do for Him is 24-7. No time for accolades except to Him. For the ways He continually provides. For the ways He already had things mapped out for us months and years before all this began. For the ways He has protected us and guarded us over and over. For His great love for us and those within our home, that He would make a way and give us the privilege of being a part of it. For the softening of our hearts -- previously, currently and in the future -- that allows us to be of use to a God who desires good for His creation.

Barely a day passes that is not a story in and of itself. The ways in which God has supplied all we've needed and then some has filled journal after journal. The things I have learned, no university education could match. A time is coming soon when I will have the opportunity to share more about this current adventure, but for now, be willing and be encouraged. Know that whatever dream He calls you to will be for His glory and your good. Know that whatever task He asks of you, He will equip you exactly as the need requires. And know that while things might get a little noisy, I'd keep that to myself if I were you.

Keeping an Eye on the Eternal

"But why do we have to paint it again?" One of our independent thinkers was balking at the idea of giving her pencil jar project another coat of decoupage -- a step that, while protecting her colorful work for years of use, would in the end, require her to wait the equivalent of a lifetime (to this poor child) before she could fill it with her bright new pencils and proudly display it on her desk. She'd done a beautiful job and my goal was to preserve that. She'd done a beautiful job and she wanted to implement it, as quickly as possible. I decided to forego the second coat. Hey, if it works, great; if it doesn't, maybe she'll learn a little lesson about things worth doing being worth doing well. It's just a simple pencil holder, right? That's what I told myself anyway.

The truth is, there was a part of me that wanted to be right. I wanted this child to look at me and me and say, "Ya know what, Gramma, I trust your judgment. You seem to know what you're doing here; you came up with this idea, so I have to do things your way. Besides, I just love you. I think you're wonderful. I'm gonna always listen to you." Imagine all our children and grandchildren saying something like that -- and meaning it! (Maybe even our spouses, too!) Life would flow along so much more smoothly if those we care for would just trust us. Or, if the people who are poised to learn from us would follow our instruction, believing we know what we're doing. But, it doesn't always happen that way, and the feelings we have when we meet with resistance from those under our mentorship and supervision, can be as damaging -- even moreso -- as the resistance itself.

That's what God, and failure, and life has taught me. If I'd been teaching one of my children how to slather clearcoat all over the outside of a pencil jar twenty-five years ago, I would have insisted, "You have to do it this way." And when met with resistance, I would have become frustrated and annoyed, probably even telling him or her to "just throw it out" if they weren't going to follow instructions. (Yeah, I was that person.) And the project, completed or not, would have come to be nothing more than an awful reminder of my anger and inflexibility, my need to be important and idolized by my children. But those who are placed in our lives -- whether to learn or teach or be our peers -- are not placed there to validate us. Years ago, I lacked validation. That lack of knowing who I was and what made me valuable, caused me to seek and, sometimes even, demand validation from those around me. I know now, my identity is in Christ; He is my validation.

The current quarantine situation has got me teaching at home again. I am enjoying most of those moments. However, there have been periods of frustration -- days when she is just not feeling it, days when I am just not feeling it, concepts which her brain is simply not ready to connect the dots. I could get upset. I could butt heads with this child all day long. Or, I can back up, regroup, and try again. I could let my husband or one of the older children take a shot at it; or, maybe, try a different approach, or no approach at all -- just leave it for another day. I have options available. But first, I pray. I don't want to tackle this responsibility with impure motives. I don't want the success or failure of the day to rest on me. I want this to be about the fulfillment of God's purpose and plan; I want God to receive the glory in all of this.

It's almost as if God was telling me years ago, how to coat my pencil jar -- slowly, gently, with love and patience, grace and mercy, beauty and an eye on the eternal; but I insisted on getting right to it. Get it done fast, put a check in the box, no hiccoughs; get it done so I could proudly display it as my own work. My Father, in His infinite wisdom and holiness, kept at it. Not with the urgency and self-centeredness I was wielding, but with the very tools He was trying to teach me to use: gentleness, patience, grace, mercy, beauty. He modeled them for me. And, by His grace, I can model them for others.

A Paradox of Emotion; A Certainty of Truth

I guess it's a bit sad but, until recently, I knew very few saints who had passed on to heaven. Don't misunderstand, I am not hoping or counting -- but this is not something I am accustomed to feeling. I was a legalist. A legalist goes to funerals and says things like, "It's okay, she's with Jesus now," while they wonder if she really is or not, and if they've done enough to get there. Legalists can be fine, moral people, but put them on the unemployment line or sit them next to a heroin addict and you can almost see the facade crumble. I was that person and I gravitated toward other self-righteous people. But for the grace of God. He rescued me, He gave me assurance, and He led me to a supportive family truly "sold out" to Christ. And through that I learned, the humble, the people smallest in stature, when they depart this earth, leave the largest deficit.

In the last five years or so, I have experienced the pain and joy that, I would guess, most Christians feel when a brother or sister has crossed from this side of Eternity to the other. I am working through that right now. Another sweet, sweet soul from our church has gone to be with Jesus. And that is not some polite colloquialism, I know she is with Jesus. I know she is whole; I know she was, the second her body ceased to function. And that is the paradox: grief and comfort, death and life.

One of the first times I remember feeling such a conflict of emotion was when an aunt passed. She'd become ill, and I wanted to visit her; but, life happened and I never made it. I had wonderful memories of her. The impact she had on me in my childhood was one of God's grace; she was His light to me. The genuine article. Her death meant I would never see her; I would never tell her just what she meant to me; those closest to her would never again find inspiration in the love for her Lord which never wavered even as her illness progressed; and those she ceaselessly prayed for would no longer see their names formed on her pleading lips. BUT, she was whole, she was healed, and she was with the One she loved the most. Mourning the loss, but rejoicing in her gain.

The next few years brought more deaths and the absence of more authentic servants of God. Pain as deep as joy. Gratitude as powerful as the desire to know why. Hard-working, Sword-wielding, lovers of Jesus, taken from us far too soon. Their surrender to the Lord now complete. Saints with cancer, confident God would heal them. And He did, the moment they passed from this world. Fathers responsible for the spiritual welfare of the young children they would leave behind, now standing in the presence of their Father, the One who personally cares for the fatherless. And those taken suddenly, leaving behind spouses in shock, employees out of work, tickets which would remain unused, clothing still in the dryer, projects unfinished and debts yet to be paid -- the very definition of how life can change in an instant. It changed for us, but oh how it changed for them!

And now, my dear Ruby. I knew her heart. She was so gentle and kind. She was never about pretense and I knew her to be always, in all ways, humble. She had things she wanted to see, and people she wanted to tell about Jesus. She was kind enough to ask me for prayer, to share with me some of the areas in which she believed she fell short and some of the ways she believed she was unqualified. And her smile, which I will miss tremendously, was as sweet as she was. I know it's even sweeter today.

I'm guessing every Christian feels this way at some point -- uncertain how to feel, caught between sadness and joy, longing and existence. Right now I cling to it all, knowing that God created me with an entire range of emotions, in His image. And He has promised to be my comfort. In life and in death.

Free to...

Is life everything you expected it would be? One of our daughters used to tell me she wanted to be a ballet-dancing, airplane driving, Army girl. To my "Mom mind" those were just the ramblings of a little girl who didn't know how competitive the professional dance world was, or how many hours it took to learn how to fly a plane, or how dangerous it was to be on the front lines. To her little mind, she was fearless and the possibilities were endless.

Sales people often try to tap into that childlike sense of adventure by posing the question, "What would you attempt if you knew you couldn't fail?" Would you take more risks? Would you feel lighter, more carefree? Would you be more upfront and honest with people? Eliminating the fear of failure is a powerful motivator. After all, children don't play "Divorced and Alone," or "Addicted and Living on the Streets." Childlike ignorance of risk opens up our minds to dream; the assurance those dreams will come true -- perfectly -- opens us up to walk in that, to take action. But we all know risk exists. We all know there are things in this world that can and will harm us. So, I ask you, "What would you attempt if someone else was paying the tab?"

Since I was a little girl, I could not look at the cross or celebrate Easter without thinking of Jesus dying. He died for me. He died for you. He died so that all our sins are forgiven. Paul talks about this in Romans 5:18-21:

"18 So then as through one trespass [Adam’s sin] there resulted condemnation for all men, even so through one act of righteousness there resulted justification of life to [a]all men. 19 For just as through one man’s disobedience [his failure to hear, his carelessness] the many were made sinners, so through the obedience of the one Man the many will be made righteous and acceptable to God and brought into right standing with Him. 20 But the Law came to increase and expand [the awareness of] the trespass [by defining and unmasking sin]. But where sin increased, [God’s remarkable, gracious gift of] grace [His unmerited favor] has surpassed it and increased all the more, 21 so that, as sin reigned in death, so also grace would reign through righteousness which brings eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord."

Our slates are clean! But what for? Not that we might just go around leading the same life we did before we confessed the saving work of the Lord Jesus Christ (Paul continues with regard to that in Romans 6:1-7), but that we might do great things:

"10 For we are His workmanship [His own master work, a work of art], created in Christ Jesus [reborn from above—spiritually transformed, renewed, ready to be used] for good works, which God prepared [for us] beforehand [taking paths which He set], so that we would walk in them [living the good life which He prearranged and made ready for us]."

Jesus has picked up the tab. Even if I am called to "fail" (by the world's definition) that others might be blessed, or that I might be blessed in a way different from the one I expected -- getting what I need from my Father's hand, instead of what I want.

Risk exists. Trouble exists. John 16:33, not only assures us of its existence, but promises victory:

"I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have [perfect] peace. In the world you have tribulation and distress and suffering, but be courageous [be confident, be undaunted, be filled with joy]; I have overcome the world. [My conquest is accomplished, My victory abiding.]"

Following a risen Christ is not a "hide-your-head-in-the-sand, deny, deny, deny" kind of commitment. We don't deny life is tough. We don't deny things are not as we expected or even, as we'd like. We don't proclaim to understand it all, or always get it right. But following Christ is knowing He picked up the tab long before we ever took our first breath, and the possibilities are endless. What would He have you attempt today?