Scratching the Surface

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control. Maybe you recognize these as the fruit of the Spirit found in Galatians 5:22-23. Or perhaps you recognize these things in God's character. Do you recognize them in yours? Not to brag or anything --no, I really mean, not to brag (at least not on me)-- I can see them in mine. You see, over the years, the Holy Spirit has been at work, changing me and bringing me into conformity with the character of God. It's sort of like those "scratch art" things. Maybe you did them as a kid: you apply the base coat to your paper with all sorts of brilliantly colored crayons, you paint over it with acrylic paint (usually black); once the paint dries, you scratch off your design and watch the colors pop through wherever you've removed the paint. That's how I imagine the work of the Holy Spirit to be.

I encourage you to give Genesis 1 a read some time. In a nutshell, God created all this stuff. He said it was good. Lastly, He created a man and a woman. He looked at everything He had made, the man, the woman, and the perfect environment in which they could live and have a relationship with Him, and God said it was very good. Mankind was made exactly as God designed: strong, beautiful, in His image. Two short chapters later, in Genesis 3, God through Moses tells of the sad day when sin entered the world, and everything became corrupt by its presence. (Sort of like the black paint that obscures the beauty of the original design on a scratch art.) What would it take for God's design to be restored to its perfect beginning? All of this was part of God's plan. He would use Adam and Eve's rebellion as a means to show human beings His goodness and their need for a good God. Again and again, He demonstrated grace toward those who dishonored Him; He forgave and restored; He loved His people and cared for them the way a good father longs for his rebellious son to return home; He proved His character: love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control, and then, when the time was right, He offered up His Son to be cursed and condemned in the place of every man that they might be righteous in His Son. He would not restore mankind to its perfect beginning; God would reveal the fullness of His plan: a new life, a more perfect design! 

To those who choose to follow after God through His Son, He gives the gift of His Holy Spirit to dwell with them and in them, changing them --while still on this earth!-- to be more like Jesus. This is His word-of-mouth advertising. He transforms lives to reflect His character so that those He has transformed will love others and by loving others will entice others to follow after Him as well. Living, breathing, walking, talking billboards of love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control!

But we're human. And we're not robots. we're not always going to get it right. We're not always going to obey perfectly. When we do, however, more of our old nature (more of that black acrylic paint) gets scratched off. And one day, when we get to heaven, we'll be able to see the beauty of God's perfect design. Not just the original swirls of colored crayons, or the obscurity of the acrylic paint, but the perfect masterpiece, just as He designed it from before the foundation of the world. 

Until then, take the time to reflect. Acknowledge and give thanks for the transformation that's taking place as the Holy Spirit scrapes away more and more of your old nature. Don't be ashamed to say you are better than you used to be. After all, it's not you who is doing the work anyway.

Such a Gift (Frederick Buechner)

War is hell, but sometimes in the midst of the Hell men do things that Heaven itself must be proud of. A hand grenade is hurled into a group of men. One of the men throws himself on top of it, making his body a living shield. In the burst of wild fire he dies, and the others live. Heroism is only a word, often a phony one. This is an action for which there is no good word because we can hardly imagine it, let alone give it its proper name. Very literally, one man takes death into his bowels, takes fire unto his own sweet flesh, so that the other men can take life, some of them men he hardly knows. 

"Who knows why a man does such a thing or what thoughts pass through his mind just before he does it. Maybe no thoughts at all. Maybe if he stopped to think, he would never do it. Maybe he just acts spontaneously out of his passion the way, when you are a child and somebody attacks your brother, you attack the attacker with no fear for yourself but just because it is your brother and somebody is attacking him. Or if you are a cynic, you might say that a man must be temporarily insane to do such a thing because no man in his right mind would ever willingly give his life away, hardly even for somebody he loved, let alone for people he barely knows. Or that he must have acted out of a crazy thirst for glory, believing that not even death was too high a price to pay for a hero's honors. Or if you are an idealist, you might insist that although the human spirit is full of darkness, every once in a while it is capable of the Godlike act. Maybe in some complex way, something of all these is involved. It is impossible for us to imagine the motive. 

"But I think that it is not so hard to imagine how the men whose lives are saved might react to one who died to save them--not so hard, I suppose, for the obvious reason that most of us are more experienced at receiving sacrifices than at making them. In their minds' eyes, those saved men must always see the dead one where he lay in the ruins of his own mortality, and I suspect that at least in part of what they feel must be a revulsion so strong that they come to believe that if they could somehow have stopped him from doing what he did, they would have stopped him. We say 'life at any price,' but I have the feeling that to have somebody else pay such a price for us would be almost more than we would choose to bear. I have the feeling that given the choice, we would not have let him do it, not for his sake but for our own sakes.

"Because we have our pride, after all. We make our own way in the world, we fight our own battles, we are not looking for any handouts, we do not want something for nothing. It threatens our self-esteem, our self-reliance. And because to accept such a gift from another would be to bind us closer to him than we like to be bound to anybody. And maybe most of all because if another man dies so that I can live, it imposes a terrible burden on my life. From that point on, I cannot live any longer just for myself. I have got to live also somehow for him, as though in some sense he lives through me now as, in another sense, I live through him. If what he would have done with his life is going to be done, then I have got to do it. My debt to him is so great that the only way I can approach paying it is by living a life as brave and beautiful as his death. So maybe I would have prevented his dying if I could, but since it is too late for that, I can only live my life for what it truly is: not a life that is mine by natural right, to live any way I choose, but a life that is mine only because he gave it to me, and I have got to live it in a way that he also would have chosen."

Such a Gift by Frederick Buechner (from his book, The Hungering Dark and reprinted in his daily meditations: Listening to Your Life) 

Like My Mom

Mom and I went for our annual ride through a local cemetery. If that sounds a bit macabre, try doing it with a 90+ year old woman. Chester Rural cemetery has been around since 1863, and I want to make some crack about that being almost as long as my mom, but I'll refrain. We go there because of the azaleas. They are absolutely spectacular, and they are all over the place! It wasn't really the day for it --overcast, so their colors didn't pop quite the way they do in full sun-- and it's still a bit early. They won't be hitting their peak for another week or so; I know I'm rushing it. This time with my mother is slipping away; I can feel it. Things she was capable of doing only a few months ago have become more difficult. Things she knew to do only a few months ago are lost to her now.

It wasn't always this way. Of course, the forgetting is new --in the last fifteen years or so-- but my sadness is even newer. Mom has always been, to me, exasperating, difficult. I remember in my teen years being somewhat of her "Mini Me." We shared clothes, enjoyed the same hobbies; my first "real" job was at the same place she was working at the time. We even watched soap operas together (probably not one of my mother's best decisions). But as I began to develop interests of my own and acquire the means to pursue them, tensions arose in our relationship. The last person in the world I wanted to be was the woman I saw when I looked at my mother. In my twenties, Mom and I reunited over my children, but never really addressed or resolved the issues between us. I kept her entertained with field trips and regular meals at our home, but by the time my children were teenagers, she and I parted ways once again. My husband and I were virtually empty nesters when my father passed and my mother, living but one street away, became my charge once again. 

Somewhere in all of that I was being granted healing and Mom had begun to decline. I was being given another chance to repent, to reject the life I'd been living and follow in a much more eternal way; Mom's life was growing not only shorter but declining in quality, as they say. It has been a less than perfect journey for me (the One who has set me on this path is faithful to bring the necessary changes to fruition and see me through to the end); it has been brutal for Mom. I have been bitter and angry, blamed and resurrected ancient history (some of it in an effort to discover the source of my anger, but much of it to justify my bad behavior); Mom has as well, only for her, there is no resurrecting of history, only anger. I have hurt myself and others; Mom has, too, only given all she's been through, I would argue she has a right. I have wasted precious time; Mom is lingering as long as the Lord allows. And through that He is teaching me lessons.

The lesson I am learning these days is time is fleeting. I am making every effort to enjoy it with her. I am making every effort to enjoy it without her. I want to be as excited to put on fresh socks each morning as she is. I want to sit in the sun --no books, no phone, just sit. And I want to breathe. And be grateful for every breath. I want to squeal and coo at the azaleas every year as if it is my first --even under cloudy skies, even though furled blooms still clutter the branches-- just as she does. I want my eyes to light up at the sight of ice cream. I want to forgive quickly and love broadly. I want to leave lessons and be a blessing to others --even in my brokenness. The way my mother has.

Are You Qualified to Go Where He Calls?

Has God ever told you to do something? I mean something personal, something in agreement with His Word, but much more specific. Give to a specific cause. Move. Adopt a child. Some time ago, I knew God was telling me to do something. His instructions were clear: Write a book. At the time, things were a little busy. I was homeschooling and working, but that season ended. Write a book, He said. Then our son and his family moved in. I was still working, things were a little hectic, and how can an adorable, chubby-cheeked grandchild be anything but a welcome distraction? Write a book. Shortly after they moved out, Mom moved in. It wasn't as though she required lots of care, but I wanted her to feel at ease. I imagined moving from her large home to a small room in ours would be pretty traumatic, so I stayed close and sat with her many days. The adjustment was difficult for us as well. But God kept talking. Write a book. Mom is still with us, and our "Chameleon House," as I like to call it has been transformed to accommodate two different housing situations since. With every season there has been adjustment, and with every adjustment, a built-in excuse to not listen to what God has been telling me. During every season, when I have heard those three words, I have looked back and said, "I couldn't possibly find the time! I had much more time last season!" 

Israel, God's people, did that. They were slaves in Egypt --slaves of a pagan nation, and all that conjures up with it. Life was hard and their taskmasters were cruel. But God. He brought them out of bondage and His appointed leader, Moses, safeguarded them to a place of promise. But it wasn't an easy trip. It was wild terrain and they were not certain of the dangers they would encounter. They longed for the "ease" of Egypt. The ease? Had they forgotten all the prayers, all the cries with which they pierced the heavens during their time in Egypt? Had they forgotten the aching muscles, hands cracked and bloodied, lips parched and eyes stinging from sweat, the whips of tyrannical overseers? 

I hadn't forgotten the hardships of my seasons: the time it took to prepare lessons and organize paperwork; the many times I crashed, exhausted, into bed in just enough time to grab a couple hours' sleep before work; the days it felt as if I'd no sooner cleaned up breakfast and had to begin preparing lunch; Mom urging me to sit with her a little longer, after spending the entire morning together. I also hadn't forgotten the amount of time I wasted watching reruns, or scrolling social media, or gossiping with a friend, or staring at all my imperfections in the mirror. So much time I wasted. Why?

We are told in Exodus 3:11, Moses questioned God's selection process. "Who am I?" he asks. Exodus 4:1-17 records the litany of excuses and reservations Moses brought before God about this commission he'd been given. God assured and reassured him: He knows what He is doing. And He promises throughout Scripture He will not leave His people or forsake them. Philippians 1:6 tells us He finishes what He starts. And 2 Corinthians 9:8 tells us He is able to make grace abound toward us that we might have more than what we need to obey His call. It is not our strength and sustenance, but God's (Isaiah 41:10). When we rely on His power and trust Him to supply what is needed, we'll have no excuse for failing to obey. And if I'm being honest, much of my procrastination lies in my depending on my ability to do what God has told me to do. I look at my past and say, God, I'm nobody. And I dwell there. I look at my present and say, God, have you seen my past? And I dwell there. I look at what I think I know about the future and say, God, I'm so small. And I dwell there. But His answer to me in all of those things is: 

I am the God of peace who raised, from the dead, My Son, Jesus Christ.  He is the Shepherd of the sheep (and you, My dear, by His blood, are His sheep). I will equip you with every good thing you need to do My will, according to My good pleasure and for My glory. (from Heb. 13:20-21)

So what is God asking you to do? Are you willing to embrace that season, or are you too busy fearing the future and dwelling in the past? He makes us "complete in every good work to do His will." What does that look like for you?