Encouraged. Empowered.

Ok, kids, here's a little Latin to start you on your way. Today's prefix is dis-. Dis- is a Latin prefix meaning "apart" or "away." Think of the word disrespect. Disrespect is to act or speak apart from admiration for, or to take away regard for someone or something. Let's do another one: discouraged. How would you define that word? Last week I told someone I was discouraged. I was feeling down in the dumps; things appeared as though I'd taken one step forward and two steps back; I'd even thought about giving up on a project. But, there's Latin! Dis-courage means to "remove courage." And, according to Merriam-Webster's dictionary, courage is "mental or moral strength to venture, persevere, and withstand danger, fear, or difficulty." Dis-courage is to remove that mental or moral strength from the picture, to leave someone powerless to persevere or withstand danger or difficulty. 

Powerless. That word is important, too. Power is the thing that enables you to do something. If your power has been removed -- nothing. Like a blackout or a dead battery under the hood. Your appliances, your vehicle, are power-less. Now, when I initially labeled myself discouraged, I used words like "feeling," "appeared" or "thought." The truth is, feelings aren't necessarily how things really are, appearances can be deceiving, and what we think is not fact, but only opinion. So, here's the crux of all this, if discouragement is the removal of courage, the removal of strength -- if discouragement leaves you powerless, it is so much more than a simple appearance or thought or feeling. Discouragement is an actual removal of the thing that will make things happen, your power. Had my power been removed? No! The only way my power in Christ can be removed is if I relinquish it or neglect to use it.

Take a look at Ezra 3. The Babylonians had destroyed Solomon's Temple for the Lord some fifty years before, King Cyrus of Persia had ordered it rebuilt, and the nation of Israel was obeying the word of the Lord in doing just that. When the foundation was finally complete, there was much commotion. Some were shouting for joy at the sight of the restoration. God's presence would be visible in Jerusalem again! But, others were weeping with sadness. Some of the older folks who'd seen the grandeur of Solomon's Temple looked at this pathetic representation and knew it would never reflect the majesty of their God the way the old building did. How they could have become discouraged! How they could have given up! Why bother? God has removed His favor from us because of our disobedience. We blew it. The visions of grandeur they recalled were not the glory God desired for this second temple. The standards they set were not the standards by which God reigns. The first temple, Solomom's Temple was built from the wealth God granted a king; this temple was to be built with all the people of God could give. Their discouragement over unmet expectations could have changed Israel's course of history. 

Courage. The strength to make things happen. The mental or moral power to overcome obstacles and get things done. Is there anything stealing your courage today? Feelings of inadequacy? Standards that are not yours to meet? The opinions of others? History -- ancient or otherwise? Without Israel drawing on the courage of a mighty God, the Temple may never have been opened for worship. If those appointed to rebuild the temple had allowed their opinions to rob them of courage, God may have appointed others, and Israel would have missed the blessing. Discouragement could have changed the course of history, then, and discouragement can change the course of history today.

So, I'm rewriting my definition of discouraged to more accurately reflect the influence it can have over my purpose. I'm calling it what it is that I might be more mindful to avoid it. I'm giving it the weight it deserves that I might seek the Lord from the first inkling of failure or setback, and shore up my defenses against it. I am recognizing it as a removal of power, of strength, of the fortitude I need to get God's work done, to endure all the trouble this world has to offer, to be the daughter-wife-mother-sister-friend-employee-neighbor God would have me be, to bring Him honor and glory in everything I say, think, or do. 

An old pastor of ours used to say, "I think I just preached myself happy!" Well, I think I just preached myself en-couraged! 

Are You Dead?

It was early -- just after 7 AM. We set out to walk a couple of miles and take care of a couple of errands. The sun had come up at one end of the neighborhood, but at the other end, darkness and the threat of another shower still had hold. As we walked, I kept my eye on the sky, watching it transform as it does so rapidly in the morning. At my next glance, the colored strands of a rainbow beginning to develop. Just to the outside of it, the faint shadow of a "double" could be seen. As the littlest little and I stood marveling and snapping pictures, the oohs and aahs of others in the neighborhood could be heard. A man just up ahead was capturing the beauty of the rainbow with his camera as well. "Oh! It's a double!" someone gasped as they stepped onto their front porch. The quiet of a community remained for the most part, but whispers of wonder rippled throughout. The neighborhood was coming alive, but in a methodical, reverent kind of way. It was a wonder to behold, terrestrially and celestially.

I am currently studying The Hallel in my personal time. The Hallel is a Jewish liturgical prayer consisting of all or part of Psalms 113-118. It is recited on specific feast days throughout the year. Just this morning, the day of the rainbow, I had paused to meditate on Psalm 115:17-18.

"The dead do not praise the Lord,

Nor any who go down into silence.

But we will bless the Lord

From this time forth and forevermore.

Praise the Lord!"

I love the dichotomy here. Death, silence, the absence of praise. Life, eternity, and praise! The dead do not praise, but we -- the living, by implication -- we praise! 

Luke 19, records Jesus' triumphant entry into Jerusalem. People were praising and throwing their coats on the ground before Him. I would imagine, throwing your coat would be a tremendous act of sacrifice; it's not like there were stores on every corner or coats to match every outfit hanging in closets across the city. The entire multitude was shouting and proclaiming Jesus king! So much so, the Pharisees told Jesus to order His disciples to tone it down. But Jesus refused, telling them that "if these should keep silent, the stones would immediately cry out." The wonders of our mighty God demand praise. And that praise identifies us as living beings. 

The dead remove God from the equation, explaining Him away with coincidence and chance. The dead put their fingers in their ears and refuse to see anything past that which they can define, control or comprehend. The dead harden their hearts to the beauty of a rainbow or the miracle of life. The dead keep silent unless they are boasting about humanity. And as Proverbs 20:11, tells us, "Even a child is known by his deeds." The dead do not praise.

So, are you praising? Are you shouting so loudly that others wish to have you silenced? Are you singing? Are you laughing? Are you quietly, reverently oohing and aahing over the colors of a rainbow? Are you alive with praise? Or does your silence confirm your death?

This Is Worship

I didn't go to church today. It was not the plan. I wasn't runninng a temperature. I didn't oversleep. I skipped church because I needed to worship.

I used to live with my husband and our two dogs. Before work, the house would be dark and quiet; I'd sit at the kitchen table, reading Scripture and praying. After work, I'd come home, walk a few miles, clean some things around the house, make some food, and worship. More Bible reading, more prayer, some writing, and maybe even some bad singing. Me and Jesus. Some days we'd even have "dates." The whole day, nothing but Him and me, talking and being together. 

Then came Mom. Though she could not care for herself independent of supervision, she was still relatively capable of dressing, knowing when she was hungry, and expressing complete thoughts. She could sit and watch television or enjoy the deck without fear. These days, she is not content to do much of anything without someone at her side. She isn't sure if she is hungry, she cannot define pain, and she gets very aggitated when she isn't sure what she is doing is what she is supposed to be doing -- which is most of the time. I have not been alone in our home for over five years, and whatever time Mom spends on the deck these days is brief and constantly interrupted by her popping in to make sure I am still nearby.

Two years ago, we were given the privilege of caring for two young children. And it is a privilege, but one that comes with a lot of fighting -- from us. Our will tells us we did this before, we had other plans for this time in our life. Our bodies tell us we're too old to be lifting and running, we can't run on so little sleep. Our minds tell us there are logistics we cannot meet: finances, time, capacity, just to name a few. But our hearts disagree. And so there is fighting, because this is difficult, but oh, so worth it.

And then, there is my bubble. I am an introvert. I "people" well because I know that I must and God's grace takes care of that, but I become maxed. I hit a point where I must regenerate, and I do that in the quiet presence of the Lord. But our home is naturally noisy -- barking and beeping, thumping and bumping, and the last few weeks have been extremely difficult; I am maxed. So, when Scott heads out the door with a large portion of our occupants, I can go to church and worship without bathroom breaks and little people falling from the pews, but I must "people;" or I can go to church amidst the snoring of our four-legged family and the hum of the refrigerator, no "people-ing" required. I choose not to go. 

I pray and I read Scripture, but best of all, I worship. I worship as I slowly, purposefully fold laundry. Not because I am trying to get it all finished, but because each one of the people I hold dear will play and work and sleep in these clothes. And those people are more than a blessing to me. I worship as I grind coffee beans, savoring the rich smells of another morning and losing myself in the whirring white noise of the blades. I worship as I pick a show for Mom and I to enjoy together. We laugh, and I'm not sure she knows the program from the commercials, but she is happy to be with me, and that lightens her load. I worship as I stroke the soft grey hairs on our old dogs face. Her faithful eyes look deeply into mine as we share a rare but quiet moment. What a blessing it has been to have met her all those years ago; her loyalty and love has helped make our house a home. I worship as I write. Gratitude pours from my heart and with it, tears. 

And next Sunday, Lord willing, I will be sitting in our "regular pew," right up front, hanging on every word and praising God with all I've got. But for now, this is worship.

Celebrate the Harvest!

"Gramma, why do you think I see things and know things I didn't before? Is it because I'm getting older?" One of our littles recently had her sixth birthday and, apparently, has begun to realize middle age is only a breath away. Time to get moving on that retirement plan, I suppose. This young lady is seeing growth in her life. That is exciting to her!

Early in the season, we planted some flower seeds. They were sort of old, so I wasn't sure we'd have any success. We didn't. Crusty egg cartons sat on our deck for weeks. We gave them every opportunity. We watered and made sure the soil was warm. Nothing happened. No growth. Although it seemed we'd done all the right things, the seeds never sprouted into anything. Our vegetable plants were a different story, however. The children love spotting the "ripe ones!" and hang their shoulders in frustration when I tell them, "This one needs to wait a bit." Strangely enough, they don't hold the same excitement for the gravy-making (Yes, we make gravy, not sauce in this house.), or the relish, or the salsa, or the jelly -- whatever we decide to make, they might take it or leave it. But that enthusiasm for growth and harvest never seems to wane. I believe that is intentional. I believe God has placed that desire for growth -- progress in our lives and our relationships -- in each of us for a reason. And I believe the joy of the harvest is something we all long to celebrate.

God's people, Israel, were an agricultural people. Exodus 23:16, talks about the feast of harvest (or the feast of weeks, later called "Pentecost" in the Greek), and the feast of ingathering (aka the Feast of Tabernacles, or Sukkot). Two of three feasts God commanded each year were celebrations of harvest -- God's provision to His people, and their praise for it. The culmination of weeks of anticipation and dedication to the labor, met with gratitude for God's faithfulness to yield what was promised. Their longing for growth fulfilled, God's people were encouraged -- no, commanded, to par-T!

Throughout the Scriptures, we are told to wait on the Lord. Wait, but not become stagnant. Let's go back to those seeds we planted for just a minute. We waited. We didn't abandon watching for those adorable little green shoots after the first few days. We didn't stop watering until we were sure the seeds were too old to produce. We didn't rest in our labor despite my not having much confidence from the outset. We didn't become stagnant in our faith that seeds produce flowers. And though our seeds were not healthy (I could take that a whole new direction, but I'm trying to stick with this analogy 😊), we were growing. Our work did not prove fruitful in quite the way we had expected, but our patience improved; we gained knowledge about just how long Vinca seeds will or will not survive in a brown paper bag in the basement; we learned that one failure is not the end of the world. Had we ceased waiting and working the moment we failed to see results, we would have gained nothing and had no progress to celebrate.

The Bible assures our God is faithful and never changes. What He has promised to supply, He will supply. What He has promised to do, He will do. No dead seeds there. He guarantees a harvest. It may not be quite the crop we expect, but if we are committed to the work and obedient to His plan we will have a harvest to celebrate!