"For the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart. Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account." --Hebrews 4:12-13
Over the years, certain Scriptures from the Bible have become my own personal mile markers. God has faithfully used His Word to drive home the lessons that have shaped me into the person I am today. I cannot think of the one (Scripture) without thinking of the other (lesson).
Some years ago, a friend was going through a difficult time. My concern for this person became all consuming until it turned into a full-time occupation.
"And why worry about a speck in your friend's eye when you have a log in your own? How can you think of saying to your friend, 'Let me help you get rid of that speck in your eye,' when you can't see past the log in your own eye? Hypocrite! First get rid of the log in your own eye; then you will see well enough to deal with the speck in your friend's eye." -- Matthew 7:3-5
As I struggled (obsessed, really) with my friend's speck, it never occurred to me that I might have vision issues of my own. Imagine my surprise when God revealed, to me, the log in my own eye.
My priorities shifted as I made the decision to leave my friend in God's very capable hands. My goal changed -- clear vision for myself. Nothing else mattered. The life lesson that followed has impacted every relationship I have: with God, with my family, with my friends, and with those I've just met.
Since that time, whenever I see the Scripture from Matthew 7:3-5, I am reminded of the powerful lesson God taught me. And now when I find myself "worrying" over a friend's speck, I am reminded to leave them in the Lord's hands and to ask God to check my own vision.
This is just one example. There are other Scriptures and other lessons; each powerful in its own way. Personal mile markers. Each a reminder of the road I have traveled with the Lord and how far I have yet to go...
Father,
Thank You for the gift of Your Word which is living and active in my life. Thank You for the way Your Word reminds me of Your faithfulness to all Your people, of how You have shaped my life, and continues to call me to obedience. Help me to be true to Your Word. In the mighty name of Jesus, Amen.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Judge Not
"Do not judge, and you will not be judged.
Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned.
Forgive, and you will be forgiven." --Luke 6:37
Last Thursday, I drove my thirteen year old son, Mitch, to guitar lessons. As I pulled into the south lot of the church campus, I noticed a white sports car. It was parked next to the newspaper/recycling dumpster. My attention was drawn to the driver's side door which was wide open. There was nobody inside the car and there didn't appear to be anyone around.
Just before I pulled alongside the car, my eyes dropped beneath the opened door and observed a pair of shoes in a straddle position, pants scrunched around the ankles. My first thought was that someone was getting sick on the other side of the door. As I turned left (away from the car) to park, I glanced at the individual.
Several things happened at once:
I realized the person, in question, was urinating onto the asphalt.
I assumed it was a child.
I told my son not to look.
By this time, I had pulled into a parking spot, no more than 36 feet away. From my side view mirror, I observed the posterior of the individual who was still "going." It did not belong to a child. It belonged to an adult. And the adult was most definitely a female.
To her left was the recycling dumpster and the church entrance. To her right was the parking lot. To her backside was a very busy street. The only part of this woman discreetly covered was her face which was shielded by the door of the car.
I was shocked. I was repulsed. I was indignant. But I was also amused in an embarrassed sort of way.
Mitch and I remained in the vehicle while the woman finished her business. As we waited, I said,
"It could be someone from our special needs group that couldn't wait or got confused."
"Some people don't have bathrooms....I wonder if she is homeless."
"Some people are mentally ill."
"Some people are really messed up..."
"Why didn't she go inside?"
"Why didn't she take cover behind the dumpster?"
"Why didn't she use the privacy of the bushes and trees in the prayer garden not 10 feet away?"
The reason I had time to cover all of these possibilities is because she had a very large bladder.
Finally. From my mirror, I watched as the woman nonchalantly pulled up her sweatpants. She acted like nothing unusual had just happened. I would guess her age as late 20's-early 30's. Her face had "hard life" written all over it.
As I continued watching, a young hulk of a man (late teens-early 20's?) climbed into the passenger seat. He must have come from inside the church. I was stunned as the woman climbed into the driver's seat. She pushed her hair away from her face, fastened her seatbelt, and drove away, leaving a large puddle in her wake.
The disturbing image has stayed with me. Even more disturbing has been the realization of the levels of judgment by which I measured this mystery woman.
When I thought it might be a sick individual - I was willing to extend grace.
When I thought it might be a child - I was still willing to extend grace.
When I realized it was an adult - not so much grace.
It could be one of our special needs' friends - okay a little more grace.
A mentally ill individual - surely they should know better - less grace.
Someone who just did it because she felt like it - I'm struggling.
Once again, I am face-to-face with the truth that I don't know how to love like Jesus. It is obvious to me that my grace is based on the merit system. Jesus' grace is based on his ability to love like the Father. I am incapable of that kind of love on my own. Oh, how I need my Savior to show me the way.
Had she remained in the lot, I would have been required, by God, to go over to her and speak. I am certain of it. What would I have said? How would she have responded? We will never know.
I am convinced that she has bigger problems than using a church parking lot as her own private bathroom. Truly, what kind of person would do such a thing?
There is only one answer that matters: The kind Jesus loves.
Father,
You love all of Your children. You have no favorites (Acts 10:34). Teach me how to love like you do. In the name of Jesus, who died for all mankind, Amen.
Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned.
Forgive, and you will be forgiven." --Luke 6:37
Last Thursday, I drove my thirteen year old son, Mitch, to guitar lessons. As I pulled into the south lot of the church campus, I noticed a white sports car. It was parked next to the newspaper/recycling dumpster. My attention was drawn to the driver's side door which was wide open. There was nobody inside the car and there didn't appear to be anyone around.
Just before I pulled alongside the car, my eyes dropped beneath the opened door and observed a pair of shoes in a straddle position, pants scrunched around the ankles. My first thought was that someone was getting sick on the other side of the door. As I turned left (away from the car) to park, I glanced at the individual.
Several things happened at once:
I realized the person, in question, was urinating onto the asphalt.
I assumed it was a child.
I told my son not to look.
By this time, I had pulled into a parking spot, no more than 36 feet away. From my side view mirror, I observed the posterior of the individual who was still "going." It did not belong to a child. It belonged to an adult. And the adult was most definitely a female.
To her left was the recycling dumpster and the church entrance. To her right was the parking lot. To her backside was a very busy street. The only part of this woman discreetly covered was her face which was shielded by the door of the car.
I was shocked. I was repulsed. I was indignant. But I was also amused in an embarrassed sort of way.
Mitch and I remained in the vehicle while the woman finished her business. As we waited, I said,
"It could be someone from our special needs group that couldn't wait or got confused."
"Some people don't have bathrooms....I wonder if she is homeless."
"Some people are mentally ill."
"Some people are really messed up..."
"Why didn't she go inside?"
"Why didn't she take cover behind the dumpster?"
"Why didn't she use the privacy of the bushes and trees in the prayer garden not 10 feet away?"
The reason I had time to cover all of these possibilities is because she had a very large bladder.
Finally. From my mirror, I watched as the woman nonchalantly pulled up her sweatpants. She acted like nothing unusual had just happened. I would guess her age as late 20's-early 30's. Her face had "hard life" written all over it.
As I continued watching, a young hulk of a man (late teens-early 20's?) climbed into the passenger seat. He must have come from inside the church. I was stunned as the woman climbed into the driver's seat. She pushed her hair away from her face, fastened her seatbelt, and drove away, leaving a large puddle in her wake.
The disturbing image has stayed with me. Even more disturbing has been the realization of the levels of judgment by which I measured this mystery woman.
When I thought it might be a sick individual - I was willing to extend grace.
When I thought it might be a child - I was still willing to extend grace.
When I realized it was an adult - not so much grace.
It could be one of our special needs' friends - okay a little more grace.
A mentally ill individual - surely they should know better - less grace.
Someone who just did it because she felt like it - I'm struggling.
Once again, I am face-to-face with the truth that I don't know how to love like Jesus. It is obvious to me that my grace is based on the merit system. Jesus' grace is based on his ability to love like the Father. I am incapable of that kind of love on my own. Oh, how I need my Savior to show me the way.
Had she remained in the lot, I would have been required, by God, to go over to her and speak. I am certain of it. What would I have said? How would she have responded? We will never know.
I am convinced that she has bigger problems than using a church parking lot as her own private bathroom. Truly, what kind of person would do such a thing?
There is only one answer that matters: The kind Jesus loves.
Father,
You love all of Your children. You have no favorites (Acts 10:34). Teach me how to love like you do. In the name of Jesus, who died for all mankind, Amen.
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Assumptions
"For my thoughts are not your thoughts,
neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD.
"As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."
-- Isaiah 55:8-9
Assumptions. They can be our undoing.
Yesterday, I was in the middle of my quiet time when a random thought popped into my head. This, in and of itself, was not unusual. My quiet time tends to be filled with random thoughts..."I should probably start a load of laundry," or "I need to reschedule that dentist appointment when I'm finished," or "What the...How did those dirty fingerprints get on the ceiling?"
Most of the time, I ignore them but sometimes they sidetrack me. Honestly, there are times when I want to be sidetracked. Staying busy is a lot easier than sitting still at the Lord's feet.
But this particular thought was not the norm. I got up from the table, grabbed my cell phone and texted a friend the following message:
"In the middle of my quiet time. Question for you: Do you have words for me?"
I don't know how to explain why I followed this thought through to completion. Most likely because it didn't originate from my own brain. Plus, I was intrigued by the thought that my friend might actually have a message for me from God. I ended up copying the texted message into my journal followed by the following, "Lord?!?" with an arrow pointing to the words.
I didn't hear back from my friend.
Fast forward to late afternoon. I was in the church parking lot, sitting in my parked vehicle, finishing my fast food meal. The double doors to the building opened and there was my friend (the same one I texted earlier). He headed straight for my van with a big grin on his face.
Just by the look on his face, I could tell there was a message from God. Something for me. I couldn't wait to hear it. Oh, the anticipation.
And then he started to talk...
"I can't believe you sent me that text! I do have something for you. I have some words I would like you to look over and get your feedback on."
Well!
Disappointment. Embarrassment. Irony. Amusement. Understanding. Acceptance.
That pretty much sums it up.
I think God enjoyed watching my face as I processed through that one. I went back to my journal where I had earlier written down the texted words and added, "Ha Ha."
Father,
Truly Your ways are beyond my understanding. According to You, my obedience should not depend on my understanding. Thank You for reminding me of that in such an amusing way. I do love You and Your ways...even though they are beyond me! In Jesus' name, Amen.
neither are your ways my ways," declares the LORD.
"As the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts."
-- Isaiah 55:8-9
Assumptions. They can be our undoing.
Yesterday, I was in the middle of my quiet time when a random thought popped into my head. This, in and of itself, was not unusual. My quiet time tends to be filled with random thoughts..."I should probably start a load of laundry," or "I need to reschedule that dentist appointment when I'm finished," or "What the...How did those dirty fingerprints get on the ceiling?"
Most of the time, I ignore them but sometimes they sidetrack me. Honestly, there are times when I want to be sidetracked. Staying busy is a lot easier than sitting still at the Lord's feet.
But this particular thought was not the norm. I got up from the table, grabbed my cell phone and texted a friend the following message:
"In the middle of my quiet time. Question for you: Do you have words for me?"
I don't know how to explain why I followed this thought through to completion. Most likely because it didn't originate from my own brain. Plus, I was intrigued by the thought that my friend might actually have a message for me from God. I ended up copying the texted message into my journal followed by the following, "Lord?!?" with an arrow pointing to the words.
I didn't hear back from my friend.
Fast forward to late afternoon. I was in the church parking lot, sitting in my parked vehicle, finishing my fast food meal. The double doors to the building opened and there was my friend (the same one I texted earlier). He headed straight for my van with a big grin on his face.
Just by the look on his face, I could tell there was a message from God. Something for me. I couldn't wait to hear it. Oh, the anticipation.
And then he started to talk...
"I can't believe you sent me that text! I do have something for you. I have some words I would like you to look over and get your feedback on."
Well!
Disappointment. Embarrassment. Irony. Amusement. Understanding. Acceptance.
That pretty much sums it up.
I think God enjoyed watching my face as I processed through that one. I went back to my journal where I had earlier written down the texted words and added, "Ha Ha."
Father,
Truly Your ways are beyond my understanding. According to You, my obedience should not depend on my understanding. Thank You for reminding me of that in such an amusing way. I do love You and Your ways...even though they are beyond me! In Jesus' name, Amen.
Monday, October 27, 2008
Let Her Sing
"Enter his gates with thanksgiving and his courts with praise;
give thanks and praise his name.
For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;
His faithfulness continues through all generations." --Psalm 100:4-5
Last week, I sought refuge in the empty Sanctuary of our church. The lights were off. It was early evening and growing dark. A golden haze, from the setting sun, filtered through the stained glass windows.
I chose a pew about half-way down the aisle. It was the perfect place to allow my ever-present grief to surface. As tears filled my eyes, I whispered, "Lord, I will miss this place and its people."
I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths and leaned into the pain of upcoming goodbyes. Minutes later, my solitude was interrupted by footsteps. It was my sixteen year old, daughter Claire.
"I want to play the piano," she declared. By "the piano" she meant the beautiful Steinway grand piano which sat in a place of prominence, near the altar. Its white keys were beckoning.
"No." I could think of a multitude of reasons why this was a bad idea.
"I've done it before." Her voice went up at the end of the sentence. It was, at once, a statement, a challenge, and a question. She added, "What's the worst thing that can happen? Someone tells me to stop."
I didn't reply.
She walked down the aisle, without a trace of anger. She stepped onto the marble floor and moved behind the altar. I watched in fascination as she spread her arms and proceeded to dance. She twirled and jumped in the twilight.
Finishing her impromptu solo, she bent over and looked at the floor. I knew she was studying the plaque that marked the location of a time capsule buried under the tile.
After a few minutes, she moved over to the piano. She played one, then two notes softly. Afterward, she walked around to the side of the piano and peered under the propped open lid. She studied the inner workings intently.
She made her way over to the baptismal font. In the fading light, she leaned down. I imagined her thought, "Is there water in there or not?" She put a few fingers into the bowl and just as quickly, pulled her hand back. I smiled in amusement, assuming the answer was yes.
Next, she headed towards a chair, next to the altar. In front of the chair was a music stand. Claire sat down, adjusting the music stand so it was at eye level. Over the top of the stand, our eyes made contact.
I realized that my sorrow had retreated. In its place was the indescribable joy of watching my daughter as she enjoyed herself in this holy place. She had just danced in the Father's presence. She was totally at ease in God's house because... it was her home, too.
"Let her sing."
It was a request from the Holy Spirit. I experienced an "a ha" moment as I processed those three words. While Claire may have asked to play, what she really wanted to do was sing. For her, the two go hand-in-hand. My multitude of reasons for originally vetoing the idea, no longer mattered.
I spoke across the room.
"You're right. The worst thing that can happen is they ask you to stop."
My words didn't quite reach her ears and she tilted her head in question. I repeated my statement. She still didn't hear. Rather than repeat myself, yet again, I pointed to the piano in silent blessing.
She pulled out the bench as I made a request.
"Play, Our God Is Love."
It is a song written by my friend, Chris, and one that is played often at our house. Claire tentatively began. Within a few chords, she was playing with confidence. As she sang, her voice grew stronger until it filled the entire Sanctuary with words of praise...
Can you see the Lord?
Or fathom His design?
Can you taste His grace?
Or feel His love divine?
Our God is love
Nailed unto a tree
Our God is hope...
As I watched and listened, I worshiped the One to whom the words were directed. Claire continued until halfway through the second verse. She stopped, unable to recall the rest of the words.
She got up from the bench and pushed it back into place. A look of contentment was on her face. She walked back in my direction and we exited the Sanctuary.
I offered a silent prayer on my way out, “Father, I almost missed this concert. Thank You for inviting me and for the blessing of hearing Claire sing for You.”
Abba,
Is this how You feel about me, when I step into the fullness of who You’ve called me to be? Does Your heart swell with joy when I use my gifts for Your glory? I want to live my life in a way that keeps me in close relationship with You. This day, Lord, show me how to stay in step with You. In the strong and saving name of Jesus, Amen.
give thanks and praise his name.
For the LORD is good and his love endures forever;
His faithfulness continues through all generations." --Psalm 100:4-5
Last week, I sought refuge in the empty Sanctuary of our church. The lights were off. It was early evening and growing dark. A golden haze, from the setting sun, filtered through the stained glass windows.
I chose a pew about half-way down the aisle. It was the perfect place to allow my ever-present grief to surface. As tears filled my eyes, I whispered, "Lord, I will miss this place and its people."
I closed my eyes, took a few deep breaths and leaned into the pain of upcoming goodbyes. Minutes later, my solitude was interrupted by footsteps. It was my sixteen year old, daughter Claire.
"I want to play the piano," she declared. By "the piano" she meant the beautiful Steinway grand piano which sat in a place of prominence, near the altar. Its white keys were beckoning.
"No." I could think of a multitude of reasons why this was a bad idea.
"I've done it before." Her voice went up at the end of the sentence. It was, at once, a statement, a challenge, and a question. She added, "What's the worst thing that can happen? Someone tells me to stop."
I didn't reply.
She walked down the aisle, without a trace of anger. She stepped onto the marble floor and moved behind the altar. I watched in fascination as she spread her arms and proceeded to dance. She twirled and jumped in the twilight.
Finishing her impromptu solo, she bent over and looked at the floor. I knew she was studying the plaque that marked the location of a time capsule buried under the tile.
After a few minutes, she moved over to the piano. She played one, then two notes softly. Afterward, she walked around to the side of the piano and peered under the propped open lid. She studied the inner workings intently.
She made her way over to the baptismal font. In the fading light, she leaned down. I imagined her thought, "Is there water in there or not?" She put a few fingers into the bowl and just as quickly, pulled her hand back. I smiled in amusement, assuming the answer was yes.
Next, she headed towards a chair, next to the altar. In front of the chair was a music stand. Claire sat down, adjusting the music stand so it was at eye level. Over the top of the stand, our eyes made contact.
I realized that my sorrow had retreated. In its place was the indescribable joy of watching my daughter as she enjoyed herself in this holy place. She had just danced in the Father's presence. She was totally at ease in God's house because... it was her home, too.
"Let her sing."
It was a request from the Holy Spirit. I experienced an "a ha" moment as I processed those three words. While Claire may have asked to play, what she really wanted to do was sing. For her, the two go hand-in-hand. My multitude of reasons for originally vetoing the idea, no longer mattered.
I spoke across the room.
"You're right. The worst thing that can happen is they ask you to stop."
My words didn't quite reach her ears and she tilted her head in question. I repeated my statement. She still didn't hear. Rather than repeat myself, yet again, I pointed to the piano in silent blessing.
She pulled out the bench as I made a request.
"Play, Our God Is Love."
It is a song written by my friend, Chris, and one that is played often at our house. Claire tentatively began. Within a few chords, she was playing with confidence. As she sang, her voice grew stronger until it filled the entire Sanctuary with words of praise...
Can you see the Lord?
Or fathom His design?
Can you taste His grace?
Or feel His love divine?
Our God is love
Nailed unto a tree
Our God is hope...
As I watched and listened, I worshiped the One to whom the words were directed. Claire continued until halfway through the second verse. She stopped, unable to recall the rest of the words.
She got up from the bench and pushed it back into place. A look of contentment was on her face. She walked back in my direction and we exited the Sanctuary.
I offered a silent prayer on my way out, “Father, I almost missed this concert. Thank You for inviting me and for the blessing of hearing Claire sing for You.”
Abba,
Is this how You feel about me, when I step into the fullness of who You’ve called me to be? Does Your heart swell with joy when I use my gifts for Your glory? I want to live my life in a way that keeps me in close relationship with You. This day, Lord, show me how to stay in step with You. In the strong and saving name of Jesus, Amen.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
I See You!
"Ears to hear and eyes to see - both are gifts from the LORD." --Proverbs 20:12
I know someone who stops to pick up paper clips off the floor. Until I spent time in her presence, I didn't even notice the paper clips. But you tend to notice these things when the person next to you stops in mid-sentence. And, you find yourself paying special attention when that person picks up each piece of metal as if it were gold.
When I asked why she picked them up, she told me that she believed God was waiting for her to find them. He wanted her to know that He was thinking about her. They were her own love notes from God.
She saw God - I saw a twisted piece of wire. Same scenario - different perspectives.
Some time ago, I began to earnestly ask God for eyes to see and ears to hear. I wanted to know God better. I longed for a deeper awareness of His presence in my daily life.
Sometime after that prayer, I began to notice something strange on my nighttime drives. Street lights tended to go out right as I drove under them or right after I passed them.
Out of the corner of my eye, in the rear view mirror, or right in front of me, I would see random lights shut down. I don't know if they were burning out or just overheating. But it happened with such regularity that it became ridiculous.
At first, I talked to myself, "Oh my gosh, there goes another one!" Eventually, I turned to God.
"Did you just see that? Hey, there goes another one! Can you believe these lights keep going out when I am driving? It's almost as if someone is playing a joke on me!"
(dramatic pause)
God laughs, you know. Deep rolling laughs. From His belly. With abandon.
I couldn't actually hear Him but my spirit did. And it is impossible to be in His presence while He is laughing...without joining in. We laughed together for a long time that day. It was my first experience with God's playful side and I will treasure it always.
Now you could argue that street lights are constantly burning out and I just became aware of it for the first time. True. Same scenario - different perspective.
However, that would not explain why I continue to feel this deep pleasure, each and every time I catch a bright light suddenly going out. It would not explain why my spirit is keenly aware of God's presence, in those moments. And it would not explain why I greet each instance with a smile and feel compelled to whisper a delighted, “I see you, too.”
I know someone who stops to pick up paper clips off the floor. Until I spent time in her presence, I didn't even notice the paper clips. But you tend to notice these things when the person next to you stops in mid-sentence. And, you find yourself paying special attention when that person picks up each piece of metal as if it were gold.
When I asked why she picked them up, she told me that she believed God was waiting for her to find them. He wanted her to know that He was thinking about her. They were her own love notes from God.
She saw God - I saw a twisted piece of wire. Same scenario - different perspectives.
Some time ago, I began to earnestly ask God for eyes to see and ears to hear. I wanted to know God better. I longed for a deeper awareness of His presence in my daily life.
Sometime after that prayer, I began to notice something strange on my nighttime drives. Street lights tended to go out right as I drove under them or right after I passed them.
Out of the corner of my eye, in the rear view mirror, or right in front of me, I would see random lights shut down. I don't know if they were burning out or just overheating. But it happened with such regularity that it became ridiculous.
At first, I talked to myself, "Oh my gosh, there goes another one!" Eventually, I turned to God.
"Did you just see that? Hey, there goes another one! Can you believe these lights keep going out when I am driving? It's almost as if someone is playing a joke on me!"
(dramatic pause)
God laughs, you know. Deep rolling laughs. From His belly. With abandon.
I couldn't actually hear Him but my spirit did. And it is impossible to be in His presence while He is laughing...without joining in. We laughed together for a long time that day. It was my first experience with God's playful side and I will treasure it always.
Now you could argue that street lights are constantly burning out and I just became aware of it for the first time. True. Same scenario - different perspective.
However, that would not explain why I continue to feel this deep pleasure, each and every time I catch a bright light suddenly going out. It would not explain why my spirit is keenly aware of God's presence, in those moments. And it would not explain why I greet each instance with a smile and feel compelled to whisper a delighted, “I see you, too.”
Who would have thought there could be so much joy in playing a game of “Peek-A-Boo” with the Lord?
Abba, Thank You for delighting in your children. Thank You for delighting in me. Give me eyes to see and ears to hear You, this day. In the name above all names, Jesus the Christ. Amen.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Birthday Card
"For God is working in you, giving you the desire and the power to do what pleases him." (NLT) --Philippians 2:13
Back when my children were in elementary school, a misunderstanding occurred between my child's teacher and me. Our relationship was badly damaged in the process. As a result, I was very concerned for my child and found it difficult to be civil towards this individual.
A few days later, I was walking down the school hall and overheard several teachers as they sang “Happy Birthday.” When I realized they were singing to that teacher, I stopped because I did not want to be seen walking past the open classroom. As I leaned against the wall, I sensed God telling me, quite clearly, to get in my car and go buy a birthday card for this teacher.
I told Him I didn't want to. God waited. I argued with Him. He remained silent. I pleaded with Him. Nothing. There was no doubt in my mind that God expected me to follow directions.
Ironically, the weekend before, I had been on a Walk to Emmaus (a 72 hour spiritual retreat). While there, I had made the conscious decision to allow God access to all of my life – not just the parts I had trusted Him with before. It was clear to me that this was a test of my newly declared trust.
So, I got in my car and drove to the nearest bookstore. There was no joy in my heart as I went through the motions of obedience. My feelings toward the individual had not changed. It was only my desire to honor God that propelled me inside to complete my appointed task. I finally found a card that didn’t make me gag with birthday ooze; it was blank inside.
I drove back to the school and pulled up next to the teacher's car in the school parking lot. The thought of extending kindness to someone who had caused so much turmoil and pain in our family filled me with frustration. I remember asking God what in the world I could possibly say to this person that wouldn’t be a flat out lie.
"Write this: 'The angels were dancing on the day you were born. May you know how much God loves you this day and always.'”
As my pen formed the words, I was humbled. It didn't matter how I felt, what mattered was how God felt. I signed my name to the card and placed it under the windshield wiper of the teacher’s car.
As I drove away, God's lesson was clear: I didn't have to love this person in order to share God's love with them. I was worn out from the battle that had been waged within my soul and relieved to have passed the test.
The next day, I received a phone call. It was the recipient of the birthday card calling to say, "Thank you for the beautiful card. And, oh, by the way, would you happen to know if there are any Bible studies at your church? I’ve been thinking I need to try that.”
We were able to make it through the remainder of the school year without anymore conflict. A simple birthday card. A message of God's love. The result -- nothing short of a miracle.
Father,
Thank you for teaching me how to trust You - experience by experience. Thank You for working within me; giving me the desire and power to do what pleases You. May I stop trying to do things in my own strength and rely only on You. I love You. In Jesus' name, Amen.
Back when my children were in elementary school, a misunderstanding occurred between my child's teacher and me. Our relationship was badly damaged in the process. As a result, I was very concerned for my child and found it difficult to be civil towards this individual.
A few days later, I was walking down the school hall and overheard several teachers as they sang “Happy Birthday.” When I realized they were singing to that teacher, I stopped because I did not want to be seen walking past the open classroom. As I leaned against the wall, I sensed God telling me, quite clearly, to get in my car and go buy a birthday card for this teacher.
I told Him I didn't want to. God waited. I argued with Him. He remained silent. I pleaded with Him. Nothing. There was no doubt in my mind that God expected me to follow directions.
Ironically, the weekend before, I had been on a Walk to Emmaus (a 72 hour spiritual retreat). While there, I had made the conscious decision to allow God access to all of my life – not just the parts I had trusted Him with before. It was clear to me that this was a test of my newly declared trust.
So, I got in my car and drove to the nearest bookstore. There was no joy in my heart as I went through the motions of obedience. My feelings toward the individual had not changed. It was only my desire to honor God that propelled me inside to complete my appointed task. I finally found a card that didn’t make me gag with birthday ooze; it was blank inside.
I drove back to the school and pulled up next to the teacher's car in the school parking lot. The thought of extending kindness to someone who had caused so much turmoil and pain in our family filled me with frustration. I remember asking God what in the world I could possibly say to this person that wouldn’t be a flat out lie.
"Write this: 'The angels were dancing on the day you were born. May you know how much God loves you this day and always.'”
As my pen formed the words, I was humbled. It didn't matter how I felt, what mattered was how God felt. I signed my name to the card and placed it under the windshield wiper of the teacher’s car.
As I drove away, God's lesson was clear: I didn't have to love this person in order to share God's love with them. I was worn out from the battle that had been waged within my soul and relieved to have passed the test.
The next day, I received a phone call. It was the recipient of the birthday card calling to say, "Thank you for the beautiful card. And, oh, by the way, would you happen to know if there are any Bible studies at your church? I’ve been thinking I need to try that.”
We were able to make it through the remainder of the school year without anymore conflict. A simple birthday card. A message of God's love. The result -- nothing short of a miracle.
Father,
Thank you for teaching me how to trust You - experience by experience. Thank You for working within me; giving me the desire and power to do what pleases You. May I stop trying to do things in my own strength and rely only on You. I love You. In Jesus' name, Amen.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Persistent Invitations
“But they did not listen or pay attention; instead, they followed the stubborn inclinations of their evil hearts. They went backward and not forward.” – Jeremiah 7:24 (NIV)
In David Nasser’s book A Call To Die, he writes about the challenge that faces committed followers of Christ. As we draw closer to the Father’s heart, we become more aware of our own sinfulness.
It has been months since I read Nasser’s words, but they’ve stayed with me because I know them to be true. As I journey deeper into the Father’s presence, it becomes more difficult to cling to the illusions I have about myself. I cannot continue to grow in my faith if I refuse to grant Him access to the places in my heart that do not honor Him.
If I am listening to God; if I am paying attention to the Holy Spirit, then I inevitably hear His whisper,
“Let’s look at this together.”
God’s invitation sets off an internal struggle within me that ends in some type of response; sometimes a combination of two or more:
Denial - “I don’t know what You’re talking about.”
Refusal - “No.”
Procrastination – “Please God, not right now.”
Surrender – “Okay.”
Relief - “Finally! I am ready to get rid of this junk.”
When I do cooperate, God stands by my side, giving me the courage and strength to look at my sin through His eyes. While I may flinch at what Christ’s light reveals; God does not. He remains with me as I process through whatever needs to be removed or transformed.
These moments are always accompanied by a deep awareness that the blood of Jesus covers my sin. I am humbled by the grace and mercy extended towards me, even as I am face-to-face with the ugliness in my soul.
God never employs condemnation, guilt or shame to convince me to change my ways. If I am struggling with any of those three, I know that I am listening to the voice of the world, myself, or the enemy. God always convicts with love. Always.
A few years ago, I experienced this in a profound way. A friend and I had a very serious conversation, intense in nature, regarding a third party for whom we were deeply concerned. Even though the conversation was discreet and respectful, my spirit was greatly troubled afterwards. I knew that I had displeased the Lord.
Looking at the conversation, through God’s eyes, I realized that I had freely and thoughtlessly shared privileged insight given to me by the Lord. I had spoken on my own authority; with no fear of God. I assumed ownership of the knowledge given to me and had overstepped my boundaries; partly out of ignorance but mostly out of carelessness.
Upon conviction and horror at my sin, the Lord said something to the effect of,
“I know…you really screwed that up but we don’t have time to stay in this place of self-pity and guilt. Don’t - do it - again. Got it?”
Don’t misunderstand me. God did not minimize my sin. I was fully convicted of my wrongdoing and understood the importance of what He showed me. But I was also dumbfounded, because God was so matter-of-fact about it.
God had no intention of dwelling on my mess-up – so what made me think I could/should? His focus was not on my sin. It was on me. And, in return, my focus was to be on Him.
I learned something that day. He asks me to deal with my sin; not to make me suffer, but to set me free. When I deal with my sin it makes room for my relationship with God to grow and to thrive. And, I am better able to carry out the work that He has called me to do.
According to Jeremiah 7:24, I am either moving backward in my sin or forward in my faith. God’s will is always that I move forward. The choice is mine.
Lord,
Even as I write, “I choose to move forward,” I readily admit that I am not looking forward to Your next invitation of, “Let’s look at this together.” It is so hard to go to those deep, dark places that exist inside me. And yet, Lord, I know that it is only in dealing with my stuff that I can grow closer to You. Thank You for Your persistent invitations. Thank You for the grace that You always shower on me when I go to those places with You. Thank You for Your patience when I do not accept Your invitation. Please, Father, give me the courage to say, “Yes” the next time You whisper to me. Help me to move forward in my faith. In the powerful, redeeming name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
In David Nasser’s book A Call To Die, he writes about the challenge that faces committed followers of Christ. As we draw closer to the Father’s heart, we become more aware of our own sinfulness.
It has been months since I read Nasser’s words, but they’ve stayed with me because I know them to be true. As I journey deeper into the Father’s presence, it becomes more difficult to cling to the illusions I have about myself. I cannot continue to grow in my faith if I refuse to grant Him access to the places in my heart that do not honor Him.
If I am listening to God; if I am paying attention to the Holy Spirit, then I inevitably hear His whisper,
“Let’s look at this together.”
God’s invitation sets off an internal struggle within me that ends in some type of response; sometimes a combination of two or more:
Denial - “I don’t know what You’re talking about.”
Refusal - “No.”
Procrastination – “Please God, not right now.”
Surrender – “Okay.”
Relief - “Finally! I am ready to get rid of this junk.”
When I do cooperate, God stands by my side, giving me the courage and strength to look at my sin through His eyes. While I may flinch at what Christ’s light reveals; God does not. He remains with me as I process through whatever needs to be removed or transformed.
These moments are always accompanied by a deep awareness that the blood of Jesus covers my sin. I am humbled by the grace and mercy extended towards me, even as I am face-to-face with the ugliness in my soul.
God never employs condemnation, guilt or shame to convince me to change my ways. If I am struggling with any of those three, I know that I am listening to the voice of the world, myself, or the enemy. God always convicts with love. Always.
A few years ago, I experienced this in a profound way. A friend and I had a very serious conversation, intense in nature, regarding a third party for whom we were deeply concerned. Even though the conversation was discreet and respectful, my spirit was greatly troubled afterwards. I knew that I had displeased the Lord.
Looking at the conversation, through God’s eyes, I realized that I had freely and thoughtlessly shared privileged insight given to me by the Lord. I had spoken on my own authority; with no fear of God. I assumed ownership of the knowledge given to me and had overstepped my boundaries; partly out of ignorance but mostly out of carelessness.
Upon conviction and horror at my sin, the Lord said something to the effect of,
“I know…you really screwed that up but we don’t have time to stay in this place of self-pity and guilt. Don’t - do it - again. Got it?”
Don’t misunderstand me. God did not minimize my sin. I was fully convicted of my wrongdoing and understood the importance of what He showed me. But I was also dumbfounded, because God was so matter-of-fact about it.
God had no intention of dwelling on my mess-up – so what made me think I could/should? His focus was not on my sin. It was on me. And, in return, my focus was to be on Him.
I learned something that day. He asks me to deal with my sin; not to make me suffer, but to set me free. When I deal with my sin it makes room for my relationship with God to grow and to thrive. And, I am better able to carry out the work that He has called me to do.
According to Jeremiah 7:24, I am either moving backward in my sin or forward in my faith. God’s will is always that I move forward. The choice is mine.
Lord,
Even as I write, “I choose to move forward,” I readily admit that I am not looking forward to Your next invitation of, “Let’s look at this together.” It is so hard to go to those deep, dark places that exist inside me. And yet, Lord, I know that it is only in dealing with my stuff that I can grow closer to You. Thank You for Your persistent invitations. Thank You for the grace that You always shower on me when I go to those places with You. Thank You for Your patience when I do not accept Your invitation. Please, Father, give me the courage to say, “Yes” the next time You whisper to me. Help me to move forward in my faith. In the powerful, redeeming name of Jesus Christ, Amen.
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