Midweek: Savoring This Season

What seems mere days ago, I was anticipating the beginning of Summer. What would we like to do once school is out? Possibility: how on earth will we fill the time? How will my teaching schedule acquiesce to my duties as a full-time mother? Logistics: how on earth will this work? And yet, here we are, with this season drawing so rapidly to a close once again. The question of possibilities was answered in abundance with a scarcity of time. The question of logistics was answered with the cooperation and support of many in our community. By God's grace, this season has not only been survived but savored!

Not every season is enjoyable. Not every season appears bearable or possible at the outset. But it is seasons we all undergo. In 1623, John Donne, as he suffered through an unknown and debilitating illness wrote a series of devotions which were later published in Devotions Upon Emergent Occasions. To read the excerpt I choose to share with you today, one has to grasp the severity of Donne's situation. During this time, crowding, poor sanitation, and an influx of people from all over the globe caused a series of diseases to barrage England and take many to their graves. Donne had no idea which if any of these infirmities ravaged his body; he could only surmise from his affliction that this would indeed end in death. He remained isolated (due to the fear of contagion) and bedridden for months. Without answers, community, vocation, health, even the strength to leave his bed, Donne boldly and faithfully used such a season to fix his eyes on the One who not only had permitted it but remained with him in it. His suffering was a blessing to us all.        

O MOST mighty and most merciful God, who, though Thou have taken me off of my feet, hast not taken me off of my foundation, which is Thyself; who, though Thou have removed me from that upright form in which I could stand and see Thy throne, the heavens, yet hast not removed from me that light by which I can lie and see Thyself; who, though Thou have weakened my bodily knees, that they cannot bow to Thee, hast yet left me the knees of my heart; which are bowed unto Thee evermore; as Thou hast made this bed Thine altar, make me Thy sacrifice; and as Thou makest Thy Son Christ Jesus the priest, so make me His deacon, to minister to Him in a cheerful surrender of my body and soul to Thy pleasure, by His hands. I come unto Thee, O God, my God, I come unto Thee, so as I can come, I come to Thee, by embracing Thy coming to me, I come in the confidence, and in the application of thy servant David's promise, that Thou wilt make all my bed in my sickness; all my bed; that which way soever I turn, I may turn to Thee; and as I feel Thy hand upon all my body, so I may find it upon all my bed, and see all my corrections, and all my refreshings to flow from one in the same, and all from Thy hand.

By God's grace, Donne survived this illness; it was but for a season. His determination to worship and to serve in whatever capacity made available to him is an encouragement to all of us in our seasons. When time is in abundance and you are uncertain how to fill it, seek and pray for the Lord to teach you stewardship. When obligations are many and you cannot see how you will ever manage to fill them well, seek and pray for the Lord to send laborers to help. When your eyes are failing, your body is weak, and you are unable to rise from your bed, seek and pray, for God will hear your praises no matter in what condition you find yourself! 

Celebrating Today

I come from the era of Photomat and disposal flashcubes. IYKYK. My mother was uncompromising in her requirement that photos would be taken at every holiday and properly labeled with names and dates. As my brother and I aged, and I ceased amputating limbs and decapitating relatives in my holiday pictures, Mom relied less on my father to handle the family photographs. But that was it. I wasn't the type to gather my friends and stage a pyramid on the beach or capture sunsets. It wasn't until I had children that I picked up the camera again. And I was relentless. Every smile, every wave was mine to capture. And every picture was precious to me. Album after album lined our shelves, preserving fleeting moments of childhood and innocence. Every once in a while, when I scour the hundreds (thousands?) of photos I have printed, on flash drives, in the cloud, or on my phone, I feel the ache in my heart, the longing to return to those days. (Days which I thought were so difficult at the time.) 

This summer, has felt, to me, like a summer of waiting. Waiting for work to pick up as it usually does in the early months of the year but hasn't seemed to even yet. Waiting for money to arrive so we can "do something cool" during our youngest's days off of school. Waiting for some sort of answer with regard to my husband's health. Waiting for the appointment I made with a new doctor months ago (only to have to reschedule because of a paperwork error). Waiting for our daughter and her husband to leave the country so that reality can begin to take hold. Yes, I am a jump straight into a frigid pool, rip that bandage right off kinda girl. Waiting for all of my efforts to serve God more obediently and more consistently to finally feel normal and comfortable instead of clumsy and difficult. Waiting for schedules to coincide so we can have those much talked about dinners with friends and family.

If we're not careful, we will spend our lives either looking back or looking forward without looking at the glory that is right before our eyes. Rather than enjoying the sunrise, we'll be anticipating breakfast. Rather than enjoying the imagination of our children, we'll be obsessing over their GPAs or their future credit scores. Rather than waiting on God, we'll be waiting on that thing or that moment. Our presence, our being present wherever we are will always be secondary to something else. So, what do we do?

Get help. Huh? I know, it might sound a little crazy, but help comes in all sorts of packages. Help might be as simple as putting on some music or as serious as joining a 12-Step program. I'm choosing the latter. All of this waiting has me in such a downward spiral of emotion, such a place of distraction; I'm trying to alter my mindset to one of being present and grateful, slowing things down and really thinking about this very moment. Find what it takes to bring you into the present, to make you fully aware of the things you are saying or the choices you are making. Find ways to be grateful --not just things to be grateful for, but ways to express your gratitude to your Creator and King. Dig deep to those places in your heart where ingratitude and pride have taken root. Fill them with confession and light. And just stop. Look at the calendar or smell the towels you're folding; listen to the laughter coming from the other room or watch the chamois soak up each drop as you drag it across the slick black paint of the hood; feel the warmth in the soft, rosy cheeks of your wriggling, teething child; taste the nothingness of fresh, cool water; determine to be present and steep yourself in the nowness you have been given. And gratitude will begin to bloom. And with that gratitude, a right perspective on all we have, all we are, and all God has called us to be. The present will become the place where you want most to be. And God will be with you there --no matter how much of your past has been lost or how much of your future seems uncertain.

Photo courtesy LuAnn Martin

The Secret to Streak-free

From time to time, I attempt to look out a window. And from time to time (Read: every dog-gone day!) I cannot see out of said windows. Reason being, we have a boy and a dog. If it's not fingerprints, it's nose prints. So, I get out the cleaner and go to work. There is a technique, of course; because, if I clean the inside of the window first, then move to the outside, as I am standing in the great outdoors, the occupants inside are watching and, for some inexplicable reason, if you have four legs or are under the age of twenty-seven, you must put your nose and/or your fingers on the glass as you watch. The technique, however, provides at least a modicum of satisfaction the job has been completed. According to the technique, I leave the inside occupants right where they are, move to the outside and clean that side of the glass, then return to the inside and clean that side. The theory is, once the show is over, the crowd disperses, and the windows --both sides --remain clean for longer than it takes me to clean them. Or, at least, that's what I tell myself.

As I was religiously following the tenets of the technique the other day, I began to think about God "wiping our slate clean." Scripture assures us, His people, those who come to Him through the blood of Jesus, He remembers our sins no more. To Him, the slate remains streak-free. Now, that's not to say we can't muck it up with our sin and rebellion. Of course we can! But how does He, the Master of accounts, reckon it when we do? Still streak-free! As far as He is concerned, we are righteous because Jesus Christ is our Advocate and Substitute; He took the condemnation we deserved, and we are no longer condemned. 

How are things on our side of the glass, though? Oh, the dirt is there! We see it. Our Adversary seeks to remind us of it. The lies, the gossip, the infidelity, the avoidance, the meanness we display toward that person who just grates on our last nerve. They're all there; the streaks and prints on our side of the glass. They obstruct our vision and distort our perspective of the One who truly loves us beyond measure. We can't see what God can see --not in Him, not in others, and not in ourselves. The dirt and smudges become so thick, we may even abandon the idea of trying to look. The fingerprints on our side of the glass are our own, and we can't seem to reconcile the fact that from the other side, from the side of the God who loves us so much He gave His only Son to die in our place, securing for us forgiveness, eternal life, a relationship --from His side, the glass is pristine, our slate is wiped clean. Not that we might sin again, mind you, but that we might stay free, that we might go forth with the joy of having all things made new. That we might see the possibilities and the future our Heavenly Father sees. That we might peer through the glass to the truth as He has made it known to those who seek His face. That we might sit with our faces toward the Light as it streams unimpeded through the crystal-clear windows of our hearts. That we might look with hope and certainty to the vision God has for each of those He has called.

The promises of God are sure. His word is trustworthy and unchanging. Walk in obedience. Rest in forgiveness. And see His glory!

Midweek: What Does a Resurrection Life Look Like?

We pulled into the parking lot on a beautiful Sunday morning. Sadly, there were plenty of spaces from which to choose. Not only has the world lost interest in the things of God, but it almost seems as though folks who call themselves Christians have as well. Plenty of things to distract on a beautiful Sunday morning, apparently. (But that's for another day.) Anyway, Vulnerability was standing out front. Vulnerability is the man whose personal life is far from perfect. He has his demons, as do even those who deny it. Nevertheless, he is sticking close. When he doesn't know how to stay close to Jesus, he stays close to the church or our pastor. Vulnerability places himself at the mercy of those who know Jesus personally because he wants to know Jesus, too, and he is brutally honest about his shortcomings.

As I entered the building, Struggle with Joy was seated just inside the door. Struggle with Joy has some pretty serious health issues, but I've never seen it get the best of him. He grieves when those with whom he shares twice-weekly treatments do not survive. He cares for those who care for him and is a champion of anyone he calls "Friend". His innocence and infectious smile belie his challenges.

Courtesy greeted me with a smile and stepped to the side of the narrow hall, giving me preference. I have to admit, there have been times I've wondered why Courtesy is there. He doesn't always need; he doesn't always give. Sometimes he engages in polite conversation during our time of greeting; other times he's fast asleep. But he is indeed a part of our church family, and it is our privilege to count him as such.  

Just past Courtesy was Care and Sacrifice. What a wonderful couple they make! The one so eager and inquisitive; the other silent and selfless. They were cooking in the kitchen that morning, serving pancakes to anyone who needed to eat and sharing the Bread of Life with anyone likely to hunger again. Care left her post to retrieve a pair of socks for Self-Aware. (Self-Aware has no home. Our church is a place he can eat, wash up a bit, and share some normalcy before heading back to a difficult life.) Sacrifice continued to move slowly around the kitchen, his body sore and tired.

As I ascended the stairs to the sanctuary, Change met me excitedly. "Wasn't Friday night great? I love that I'm hanging out with my family and the leaders in the church! And those two," he said with a nod toward Care and Sacrifice, "are just great! They put so much work into everything they do." I couldn't help but notice his eyes; not red, not glassy; his speech was clear and strong. Change.

At the top of the stairs was Steadfastness. Steadfastness does whatever he can do. Church wasn't starting for another thirty minutes, but Steadfastness was in place, ready to do his assigned task. I spoke, and he replied in his easy, carefree way, never raising his eyes from all he was doing. 

This is our church. There are other members as well: Affection, Exuberance, Service, Kindness, Faith --just to name a few. And I was thinking as I entered that day, there's the reflection of Jesus in every face there. Although there is no central goal or theme except loyalty to Him, we are all at various stages of our walk and we are all used in the way our Master designs. Our message is, above all others, the Gospel. We're not the Successful Church in that everyone gathered represents all we aspire to be. We're not the Political Church, waving the American flag and expecting like-mindedness in all things governmental. We're not even the Religious Church, with piety and discipline perfectly desired and perfectly executed. We are Resurrection Life Church, a work in progress, a daily grind, and a joy to behold!