Victory Today!

Victory is important, especially to Americans. We love sports and contests. Even in 2020, the forgotten year, the NFL generated twelve billion dollars! Every corner bodega in every American city sells lottery tickets. We have scholarships and awards for everything. Victory is important, and it was important to God and His people, Israel. 

When the king of Syria sought to make war with Israel, God informed His prophet, Elisha, where the enemy king had established his camp. He did this three times before the king of Syria decided he'd had enough and went looking for God's holy man. The king sent a large army accompanied by chariots and horses, to surround the city where Elisha was staying. Imagine, all of that for one prophet! The young servant who accompanied God's servant was in a panic. "What shall we do?" he asked. So Elisha answered, “Do not fear, for those who are with us are more than those who are with them,” and he prayed the eyes of the young servant would be opened. When they were, the young man saw horses and chariots, more numerous and mighty than those of the Syrian army, surrounding Elisha. God's plan for victory was there all along.

I think Christians embrace the idea of some future, far-off victory for them in heaven. We readily accept ideas like mansions and rest, streets of gold and gates made of pearl, but how well do we see that we have the victory right now, here, today? When the Bible talks about victory, it is often in the context of victory over death. So, I guess, if you are still alive and reading this you have had victory over death for this very moment, right? Yes, but it's so much more. 1 John 5:4 tells us, our faith is the victory that overcomes the world. Our faith today gives us victory over this world. This is present tense stuff! We've all got bills, and sometimes those bills outnumber our paychecks, and then more bills come in. We've all got trouble, and sometimes that trouble outweighs the burdens our hearts can carry or our capacity to fix the trouble, and then more trouble comes upon us. We've all got things we have to do, and sometimes that list just doesn't seem to get any shorter no matter how hard we work, and then something else gets added. But, in Christ, we do not have to be overwhelmed. We can face these things head-on and know that God will bring us through them. We might be forced to give something up or look for another job; we might need to forgive someone or set firm boundaries; we might have to delegate some tasks or reconsider their importance, but we know, no matter what we are called to do, God is going to work it all out for His glory and our good. That is victory! 

Let me put it to you another way. If we are on our own in this world, if God's Word simply tells us to hang on tight and wait for what comes "someday," we might as well be sitting in a bomb shelter somewhere riding this thing out. If we are unable in this life, to clear any hurdles or rise above the drudgery and worry, what do we have to tell others about our Jesus? Do we tell them about the promise of "someday" from a God who can't (or won't) even give me the strength to overcome today? If our presence in heaven someday is the exclusive definition of victory, why are there any Christians on earth? 

Christians should never be sitting idly by waiting on a day of victory. We should never spend more time talking about the victory we're "sure will come," than we do walking in the victory we have. We shouldn't be so consumed by the idea of a future victory that we neglect the victory we should be experiencing today. And if you are in that place -- the place where you, as a Christian are so burdened by finances (or lack thereof), or sickness, or strife that you can't genuinely celebrate what God is doing, you can't take your eyes off your problems long enough to experience His peace and joy -- ask Him to show you that His armies are encamped about you. God's plan for victory is at work today, and through faith in Jesus Christ, we have the victory that overcomes the world.

Seek and Hide

Psalm 119:11 is one of those verses I memorized as a child. "Thy Word have I hid in mine heart that I might not sin against Thee." I memorized a lot of Scripture as a child and teen; not a bit of it kept me from sinning -- at least not that I can consciously remember. But look at this verse; there two very important aspects to consider before we can actually reap the benefit -- "that I might not sin against God."

First of all, there is the principle of hiding. Do you recall playing Hide N Seek with other children? In every group, there'd be the jokester who didn't take it seriously. He'd grow bored with the way things kept playing out, so he'd "hide" in plain sight. As the seeker was counting, the jokester would sneak up, stand right behind her, and when she would begin to search, he would stalk the seeker, walking step-for-step behind her. While it was funny watching someone challenge the way the game was played, the jokester didn't stay concealed long. He didn't take the game seriously, and it showed. Likewise, you had the uncertain ones who wouldn't commit. They remained sure-footed right where they were as the seeker began to count. They'd look one way then the next, maybe take a step or two, but never actively pursue a place to hide. Other children would gesture frantically and sometimes even whisper clues as to places to tuck away, but the child wouldn't move, time would be up, and they were instantly discovered. They hadn't the desire to do what was required to hide, and it was evident. Lastly, there was the pro. This kid would bury himself so deeply into a spot, once everyone looked for him. Eventually, with the sun setting and street lights beginning to burn, someone would call out, "Olly, Olly Oxen Free," and like Lazarus, he would come forth. The pro put in the work and was committed to the mission.

That brings us to the second consideration in the verse: God's Word hidden in my heart. I think many of us go right to the idea of memorization, and while that is vital, hiding God's Word in your heart is so much more. Empty repetition won't keep anyone from sin. In fact, Matthew 6:7 records Jesus' warning against using "vain" or empty repetitive words to pray. Vain words flow from a vain heart, a heart absent the treasure of God's character revealed through His Word. Strictly memorizing Scripture for the sake of memorizing it (for a test, to please teachers or parents, to appear pious, etc.) may have made me aware of right and wrong, and perhaps, even caused me to feel guilt or shame after I sinned; but prevent sin? No. I did not have a desire in my heart to obey; my heart was unrepentant and the words meant nothing to me. I could have just as easily been memorizing the charter of every social club in the United States -- the words were empty and my heart was hard. God's Word cannot take root in a heart of stone. Praise God, He has promised to remove our heart of stone and give us a softened heart in which His Word can take root and become effective -- effective unto strengthening us to resist temptation. He is doing that for me. It will be a lifelong process, but I need to take my portion of the process seriously -- meditate on, not simply memorize, God's Word day and night. I need to make the pursuit of God a priority, be willing to do the work that His Word might be deeply hidden in my heart, taking root and growing, that I might not sin against Him.

I Raise My Ebenezer

What do you think of when you hear the name Ebenezer? If you're like most people, you think of Ebenezer Scrooge, Charles Dickens, Christmas, and bloody old England. The name, however, comes from a Hebrew word meaning, "stone of help." The ruthless Philistines had attacked God's people, Israel. After God gave His people the victory, the prophet Samuel set up a stone of help right on the battlefield and called it Ebenezer, stone of help. 1 Samuel 7:12 tells us when he set it up, he proclaimed, “Thus far the Lord has helped us.”

Remembrance is important. Remembrance reinforces our values, reminding us where we came from. Those precepts our parents or teachers or pastors instilled in us years ago have become a part of who we are. They have shaped us into the people we are today, and to compromise those truths would be to completely lose sight of who we are. Remembrance can provide a springboard for change, helping us to avoid repeated mistakes or reminding us of places we do not want to revisit. Learn from your mistakes, right? Yes, but better to learn from the mistakes of others. Watch what people do, study history, remember it, and you will avoid pitfalls that would otherwise slow you down, hang you up, or put an end to the journey. Remembrance can be the guideposts when the way is dark and long, keeping us on track with recollections of motives or circumstances that put us on this path in the first place. If you can't remember why you're on the path, how are you going to find the motivation to stay there? If you can't remember how you got to the place you're in, how will you know to avoid or embrace those situations in the future? Remembrance can give us the courage to move on -- and this one is my personal favorite. "Thus far the Lord has helped us." He did not fail us before; He will not fail us ever.

Allow me to introduce you to my Ebenezer:

Those are journals, and that's a lot of words. Stories of God's faithfulness over and over. There are words of great sadness, deep-seated rage, daily minutiae, irrepressible joy, lament, penitence, catharsis, speculation, and page after page of Bible study. Through all of these things -- eighteen years of things -- God has been with me. Thus far the Lord has helped me.

I encourage you to raise your Ebenezer. A candle: scents can be powerful reminders of places and moments in time. A key chain: something you take with you wherever you go. A picture: one that expresses your journey in the arms of the God who carries you. A tree: a friend of mine planted a tree to remind her of the hope and protection God provided through a terrible tragedy. Whatever you can imagine that will strengthen your resolve to stay on this journey and seek the Lord while He may be found...

Raise your Ebenezer!

StoryADay: "I Love You"

Right now I am having a great time writing Fiction. Fiction, of all things! Never in my wildest dreams had I considered it, but a friend posted an article on her feed about a StoryADay Challenge. I thought signing up for the challenge might broaden my horizons. The plots and words are coming at me faster than I can get them to the page. I would encourage any of you, if you like to write, or are thinking about writing, give it a try. Julie Duffy, speaker, writer and coach, challenged herself in 2010, and has asked others to join her ever since. She is quite encouraging and offers tips, resources and paid programs on her page. 

The challenge has motivated me to take my writing seriously (so has the absence of a paycheck), so I am committing to posting my usual stuff here every Sunday, Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. (Public commitment is important in writer world; it provides accountability and keeps the writer on track.) On Saturdays, I'll be posting something from my foray into creative writing. Maybe even Fiction! With dialog! So, I hope you'll continue to stay tuned, and this being Saturday, I hope you enjoy the latest outcome of my StoryADay Challenge:

I Love You

"I love you," Mom said as I tucked her into bed. There was no sing-song, no extra syllables. It was clear as a bell. Of course, I know her reasons. Mom may not know who I am, but she knows I care for her. Mom is nice to anyone who gives her treats or makes her feel safe. And I do.

Tomorrow is supposed to be a beautiful day. Not too hot; the sun, not too overbearing. Mom and I will spend most of the day on the deck. She will whistle and chirp, and I will read and write. Her sounds don't seem to seep into my thoughts the way they do when we sit inside a still house.

I will make her snacks, and each time, as I come to her with a bowl or napkin, a smile will slowly spread across her face. Her normally vacant eyes will immediately fix themselves on the dainty in my hands. As she eats, she will sing a song of satisfaction.

Mom will spread her hands in the warm sun. She never complained of pain when she was able, so I'm not sure, but I feel with her the warmth seeping down into deep, achy places in her joints. From time to time she will look at her hands, as a child discovering them for the first time. "Look!" she'll say, and hold her hands up to me as though offended by the thinness and spots that corroborate her age. "Those hands are ninety years old," I will defend. "They have cooked a lot of Thanksgivings and ironed many white cotton ruffles." She will tilt her head, drop her eyes sadly, and nod. She's being polite, I think. How can she possibly remember? It's been years. Most days she thinks she's a child and I am her mother. If I leave the room a bit too long, she will look for me. Although, some days, "too long" can be less than the time it takes me to rise from my chair. She will begin to rise also, or her face will tighten into sadness and her sing-song will sound more like a whimper. Other days, I dash to the store, assuring her before I leave that I will not be long. I snatch items from the shelves and run through my list frantically. "Do I have a minute to stop in the post office? No," I answer myself, "I took too long looking for the right capers." I head straight home, load up every spare piece of flesh on my arm with groceries, and burst through the door, only to be met with vacant eyes. She wasn't searching, she wasn't alarmed, she never knew I was gone.

When the sun begins to warm the canopy over the deck, Mom will be more comfortable. Her sing-songs and whistles will cease; her head will drop to her chest, and she will nap. I will read and write with nothing but the buzz of bees and the song of birds drifting off into the clouds. Mom will startle herself awake now and again; she will raise her head to see if I was watching. "Are you okay?" I will ask. She will nod and close her eyes.

It was on Mom's eighty-fifth birthday she came to live with us. She needed care and protection; I wanted her to thrive. I diffused oils as she slept. I searched recipes and explored the health benefits of certain foods. I hopped aboard the "organic train." I played all types of music; Mom would tap her foot and, sometimes, even sing, but could she thrive? Her illness --whatever it is-- wouldn't hear of it. It was taking her down and would stop at nothing to do it. But Mom is a fighter. Anyone whose made it past ninety is a fighter, I would say.

By four o'clock, most of the sun will have disappeared behind the houses further down our row. The canopy above will still be warm, but the air will have begun to cool. Mom will begin to get agitated. The evening will come soon and her body can sense it. It is time to go inside. "Don't forget your sunglasses there, Hollywood!" I will say as gangly legs and large fuzzy slippers take their first steps into the shadowy house. She will sit at the table, watching for glimpses of me as I move through the kitchen making dinner. She will pick up her cup over and over, each time disgusted by the fact it contains only water. She will pick at lint, and sweep teeny-tiny crumbs off onto the floor, and "whisper" to the dog, and tap endlessly on the table. The sickness is taking over more and more of her as the night creeps closer.

At bedtime, I will say it is time. The cat will spring to life, waiting for his chance to sneak into her room, and Mom will agree she is tired. I will get her ready, and fluff her pillows, and she will fix socks and pick lint and put her slippers just so, like a child worn out from the day but reluctant to be alone. "Goodnight, Mom," I will say, giving her a kiss on the forehead. "I love you."

And she might just say, "I love you," too.