A Little Investment Advice

If you had a million dollars, what would you do with it? Have you ever played the lottery? Where did you get your ideas about money? Are you a saver or a spender? 

I remember sitting for hours at the kitchen table in my parents home, filling out sweepstakes entries. That was Mom's thing. Dad's was racing forms and pyramid schemes. My parents took expensive vacations, and countless calls from bill collectors. Mom carried her swim club and boat club memberships next to our food stamps. My parents were terrible with money. Though they never spoke to us about it, they taught us volumes. By the time I was eighteen, I was working over one hundred hours a week and had tens of thousands in the bank. Money = security. 

I was in my thirties when I really began to notice Jesus drawing me to Him. I went to church and even listened, but when I sat down to try to read the Bible on my own, it either made no sense or made me sleepy. One of the most confusing passages was Jesus' Parable of the Talents. The Reader's Digest version goes like this: A man was going on a trip. Before he left, he gave some of his servants money to steward while he was gone. Two of the servants presented him with profit upon his return. A third, knowing his master was a shrewd business man and fearing a loss, returned exactly the amount the master had given him. "I kept it safe in a hole for you," the servant said. The master was furious and punished the servant.

Between my attitudes about money and lack of spiritual maturity, I could never understand what was so wrong with the third servant's behavior. After all, investments can be risky. What if the first two servants had lost the money? Number Three would have been looking like a rock star, right? It seemed to me, it was the master that should have been punished: he was so greedy. What's wrong with saving? Nothing, but this parable was never meant to be simply dollars and cents. 

I've come to know this parable is about all God gives us to steward: our time, abilities, finances, relationships, careers, food, possessions, health, opportunities -- all of it, whatever it is. None of it belongs to us. We are merely stewards tasked with making the very most of what we hold -- temporarily, loosely -- for God's glory. And though I say this to you now, I am guilty of wasting time. I am guilty of taking relationships for granted. I am guilty of eating just because. I am guilty of hating my job. I am guilty of reacting badly when someone tries to take things from me. Which makes me guilty of thinking these things -- any of them -- belong to me.

The other day, I was praying about one of our current opportunities. Someone who is supposed to be running the job is not exercising due diligence. It could cost us the job. As a subcontractor, we are powerless. The situation immediately threatened my need for security and control, and my mind began to race. Can we hire a lawyer? What recourse do we have? Can we get this person off the project? Fury. Fear. But then, peace. Over and over again as I prayed, the Holy Spirit brought to mind The Parable of the Talents. God gave this to us. To steward. And we have done that. We are working hard, being moral in our actions, speaking life, submitting to authority, and -- most importantly -- representing Christ. The rest is up to the Lord. If the job turns an immediate profit, it belongs to our King. If the job appears to be a total loss on the surface, we can rest assured we served our King well, and He has done something for our good and His glory.

Some of the greatest success stories were written by paupers and prisoners. Some of the greatest victories were won in sickness and slavery. Whatever the situation we are in, it is meant to be invested. Only by risking what was never ours can we know the security of gaining what we can never lose -- the blessing of our Father, "Well done, good and faithful servant. Enter into the joy of your Master."

Where Did Those Prayers Go?

"Hey! How's your mom?" I called out.

"Mom passed June twentieth -- almost a month now," he replied.

"I'm so sorry. I hadn't heard," I apologized.

Awkward, right? I felt so awful. I know, though, that kind of thing happens all the time. It's not like we're best friends. We don't even work the same shift. I wouldn't necessarily have known. I didn't know. But here's the thing I thought was most awkward: I'd just prayed for this man and his mom that morning. And several mornings before. In fact, since the day she'd passed, I had probably prayed for her at least five or six times. Her health had been declining, so she'd been on my prayer list for months. And he, by association, had been as well. He was still very much alive, of course, but for almost a month now, I'd been praying for a dead woman. Where had those prayers been going? They certainly hadn't made it to the "YES" file. And why hadn't God sent some sort of memo that I could stop now?

A few months ago, Scott and I purchased a table from an online yard sale. It was just what we'd been looking for -- and dirt cheap! We pulled up in front of the amazing Victorian with the "For Sale" sign. "Must be a job transfer," I thought. If only. A marriage was over. Pictures of their baby were everywhere. A beautiful, young woman with sad eyes forced the corners of her mouth up a bit as we talked. As I stood in that beautiful old home, knowing the decimating power of divorce, I felt something like a grave robber. Dreams were dashed, laughter extinguished, possibilities ended -- and an hour before we'd been anticipating the wonderful bargain we were getting. I've been praying for her ever since. That she heals. That her child heals. That she is able to provide for herself and her now much smaller family. But I won't know -- at least not on this side of Eternity -- what happens. And not having the answer doesn't mean God didn't grant my request.

I think most people have a basic understanding of prayer. We thank God for our food, we eat, God gives us food for the next day. Lather, rinse, repeat. We ask Him to watch over our families when we are apart; we arrive home, everyone's good, we go on. But what about those prayers that you're praying long after the person has been healed? Or hasn't? What about the prayers we're lead to pray, but we'll never know the outcome? That is the thing about prayer. Yes, it is about our care for others. Yes, it is about standing on the gap for people who don't pray or can't pray or just want someone else in their corner. Yes, it is about seeing God work, and seeing good things come about as a result of prayer. But prayer is the building block of relationship. It is a way we get to know God, and others, and ourselves. My prayers for this man and his mother revealed to God my real desires for others -- especially those who may not know Him -- and ignited my passion for His glory to be known. My prayers for this man and his mother showed me how the Holy Spirit speaks to me as I pray, leading me toward compassion and a deeper love for others. My prayers for this young woman and her situation brought back to me some of the pain and hopelessness that I felt in the days after my divorce, and how God has raised up beauty from ashes! My prayers for this young woman and her situation drew me closer in spirit to her, and enabled me to pray with power for the healing of her child and the revelation of God's purpose for her life.

I may not know all the ins and outs of what is going on with those for whom I pray. I may not even know if they are with us this side of heaven. After all, if prayer was strictly a way of asking for stuff and watching it happen, no one would ever lose their job, or die, or hurt someone else. We could all draft our list up every morning, and get on with our day. Through prayer, though, we come to God fully prepared to be honest, transparent before Him. (And if we're not, He reveals that to us pretty quickly.) We take the arm of Jesus as He walks us into the very presence of God, our Heavenly Father. We bow before Him, giving Him as much of the honor our finite beings can lavish upon Him, He opens His ears to us, and we speak our hearts. Wanting the things that we ask, but wanting Him even more.

Dressed for Surrender

The other morning was beautiful -- cool, sunny, just a bit of a breeze. Ideal weather to enjoy my coffee on the deck. I hastily threw on some clothes and headed out the door. As I looked down at my ensemble, I realized how crazy it looked. Torn, worn and thoroughly faded shorts paired with a classic, almost new designer sweater. As I soaked in every minute of daybreak, I began to consider how my old, worn habits and dispositions exist right alongside (sometimes in spite of) the new nature created in me by a holy Designer. I long to humbly, sweetly surrender all God has given me and all I am in order to bring Him glory, but I cannot say I always, in all ways do. The same person who so reverently, completely worships in times of quiet, is the same person who sulks about which movie we're watching, or grumbles about the sale item that isn't available, or lays on the horn when the driver ahead should have purchased a map. The mother who urges, "Just talk to me when you're having trouble," is the same woman who strokes out when presented with a note for summer school.

The enemy loves to use such contradictions for his glory. "Everyone knows who you are," he whispers; "Everyone knows you're damaged. How can they take 'your Gospel' seriously?" Or, "You call yourself a Christian?" he asks; "You gossiped after church on Sunday! Are you sure you're even saved?" He wants you to feel hypocritical. He wants you to be ashamed, stuff your rebel heart deep down into your biker boots and deny it's there. He wants you to don that shirt and tie, polish up your image, look the part, all the while missing God's grace. Eaten up by self-condemnation or lost in your own righteous -- either end serves his ambition.

I remember a few "exclusive" restaurants from my childhood. "JACKET AND TIE REQUIRED." My dad would show up in polyester pants and a knit shirt. The maitre d would wordlessly hand him a used sport coat and outdated tie. Dad would fulfill the requirements, but everyone could tell he really didn't belong. Satan wants you to think that about your shortcomings, your failures, even your out and out sins. He tells you they cannot be fixed or forgiven. He tells you everyone can see you don't belong. Or he tells you your new jacket and tie look great -- "Love the work you've done on yourself, Kiddo! You have arrived."

But nothing is hidden from God. He can use my mistrust of authority to magnify His name as I challenge systems and advocate for those who cannot do it themselves. My inner passion for unbridled fun? God has claimed it that I might understand another's desire to walk on the wild side and steer them away from the pitfalls. The scars from my past remind me of Jesus' healing and urge me to pass that message on to others. God has used former inmates to develop successful prison ministries and atheists to teach Apologetics at Christian Universities. God can and does use the corruption of this life for His glory and our good. He is not intimidated by rough edges and apparent contradictions in us; He sees our hearts and is able to use it all or change it all. He promises beauty for ashes. Those things that appear paradoxical, God can work and weave into an amazing tapestry of glory and light for His name's sake. All the while, His Spirit works to sanctify us and transform us to more closely resemble Himself. We are not schizophrenic accidents or hypocritical pharisees; we are fearfully and wonderfully made by Almighty God, but born with sinful human natures, but redeemed by a prefect Lord and Savior, but living in a fallen world. 

Our surrender to His work is key, however. In humility and honesty, we must bring all we have before the Lord and acknowledge Him as King over all. We must lay our trash before Him that He might repurpose it all for Kingdom treasure. We must stand before Him, just as we are -- in shorts, or sweaters, or both -- and be His, surrendered to His design. 

Heaven on Earth

One year ago today, our church lost a titan of faith and gentle friend. Many people miss her deeply. Many people rejoice because she is with her Lord and Savior. And, I'm sure, there are some who are jealous as well -- like me. She knows so much more right now than she could ever have known on this side of Eternity! She has answers to some of the questions she had; she has answers to some of the questions I have. She is in a fellowship so deep right now, those of us here can only catch glimmers once in a while. Oh, glory! To be face to face with The King!

That is where my mind is today -- thinking about my proximity to Jesus and longing to be as close to Him as I can possibly be. Just this week I was talking to a friend. "I don't want to miss it," I said. This has been my prayer for so long. I'm not talking about the rapture. I'm not talking about some run to perfection, obeying every rule. I'm not afraid that I'm not saved. I mean I don't want to miss the fullness of Jesus, the apex of my relationship with Him (as much as is possible) -- today. If life in this world is simply a hope for heaven, why are we here? If heaven is my endgame, I should have been there the moment "my ear was pierced" and I became a bondservant of Jesus Christ. And would heaven even be heaven if Jesus wasn't there? The point of my life -- here and in heaven -- is God. Westminster Shorter Catechism asks, "What is the chief end of man?" and answers, "Man's chief end is to glorify God and to enjoy Him forever." Forever, not later. From the moment we existed, it was our intended purpose to be in relationship with Jesus, to know Him fully, to serve Him with all He endowed and blessed us, and to find pleasure and fulfillment in that. I don't want to miss that!

In John 21, the disciples had been out fishing all night. They caught nothing. At daybreak, Jesus stands on the shore and calls to them, but they don't recognize Him. A Man they'd spent the greater part of three years walking with, talking with, eating with, traveling with -- hearing Him speak day after day - and they don't know His voice, they don't recognize His form. As soon as they obey His command and see the blessing He pours out on them, they know. They know His goodness. They know His power. And they react. John cries out. Peter jumps in. The remaining disciples follow with an abundance of fish. Knowledge of the presence of God and their reaction to it.

That's where I want to be. I want to see Him in as many places as I can, as many ways as I can. I want my visioned sharpened so I don't miss Him in the color of another's skin or the swell of a fat, juicy Summer tomato. I want my ears pricked at the sweet song of one of His birds or my husband's booming voice. I want my skin to tremble at the caress of a lazy breeze or the warmth of a child's hand in mine. I want my taste buds to sing at the sweet nectar of a honeysuckle bloom or awaken at the fiery snap of a hot pepper fresh off the stem. I want the sweet aroma of rain and the smell of my dog's fur to bring His name to my lips and His goodness to my thoughts. And I want to react accordingly.

With exclamation. "Thank You, Lord, for all You give and do!"

With a plunge. Leaving all else behind and immersing myself in the experience, to draw near my Lord.

With hard work. Reaping the harvest, coming to Him with all He has given me.

Heaven on earth. I don't want to miss it.