I am the hugest of optimists. I can find the positive in just about any situation. I am naive. I am hopeful. I find good in people. It’s who I am. It’s how I roll. Typically.
But today I’m struggling. Today I’m weighted down with a sadness that is heavy and hurt-full. I mourn with those who mourn. I weep with those who weep. And I pray with those who pray, adding my loud amen to all the prayers for comfort.
Tomorrow morning our choir is going to be singing this song. It just seems to fit today.
A Prayer:
Father God,
Why is it that I think I must get somewhere, assume some position, by gathered together, or separated apart in the quiet of my study to pray?
Why is it that I feel that I have to go somewhere or do some particular act to find you, reach you, and talk with you?
Your presence is here
In the city–on the busy bus, in the factory, in the cockpit of the airplane; in the hopital–in the patients’ rooms, in the intensive care unit, in the waiting room; in the home–at dinner, in the bedroom, in the family room, at my workbench; in the car–in the parking lot, at the stoplight.
Lord, reveal your presence to me everywhere, and help me become aware of your presence each moment of the day.
May your presence fill the nonanswers, empty glances, and lonely times of my life. Amen From A Thirty-Day Experiment in Prayerby Robert Wood.
I will confess, I enjoy Pintrest. I don’t have a personal Facebook page, can’t–long story. So, I enjoy Pinterest. One of my boards is Sacred Spaces and Places. Some places just feel “fuller” with spirituality for me. I guess that’s why the words to “How Great Thou Art” get to me:
Oh,Lord my God! When I in awesome wonder
Consider all the works thy hand hath made,
I see the stars, I hear the mighty thunder,
Thy power throughout the universe displayed;
Refrain:
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
When through the woods and forest glades I wander
and hear the birds sing sweetly in the trees;
when I look down from lofty mountain grandeur,
and hear the brook, and feel he gentle breeze;
Refrain
And when I think that God his son not sparing,
Sent him to die – I scarce can take it in,
That on the cross my burden gladly bearing,
He bled and died to take away my sin:
Refrain
When Christ shall come with shout of acclamation
And take me home- what joy shall fill my heart!
Then I shall bow in humble adoration
And there proclaim, my God, how great thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
Then sings my soul, my Saviour God, to Thee,
How great Thou art, how great Thou art!
If you want to listen to it, try this I sat and listened several renditions of this favored hymn. I especially liked this one for it’s simplicity. The cello also touched a spot in me.
Last Friday the hubster and I were blessed to be able to spend the day together. We drove south to a little town that has a furniture store that advertises on Craigslist. The drive took us on rolling, tiny country roads that warned us often to be alert for Amish buggies. It was a gray day, but that just seemed to add to the coziness of being together. The store was nice and we oohed and ahhhed over pieces we would love someday to have. On the ride home we took a different, but equally bendy and tiny road. It was such a special time together. On the way down we practiced the song we’re singing as a duet on Christmas eve. Then on home we chatted and commented on the different houses we noticed on the way home. Houses tucked in the woods. Log homes. Big inviting farm houses.
Way back when we were dating we would drive in the country and do the same thing. Then, though, there was this thinking that we “needed” to be in one of those kinds of homes to be happy. Now, nearly thirty-four years later we know, we could live in a tent and be happy together. We’ve walked through dark days together and know with clear certainty that it’s not the place, it’s the relationship that means so much.
How can it be any less with God? Sure, I my soul will be stirred by the beauty of a place–but I don’t have to go anywhere to find my God, my Savior, my Eternal Friend. He fills every moment, every place, in my life–when and if I let him. I just want to get better and better at letting him.
I’m not a highly political person. I tend to roll with the flow instead of swimming against the tide. I ride the wave, I don’t make them. I don’t share my opinions very often, because I’m not as savvy as those around me, and I’m not a big fan of conflict. But I do have a couple things I want to say now that this election is over.
First, I firmly believe that our system is horrendously flawed. The thing that grated on me the most as this election droned on was the endless impossible promises that were being made. No one can promise anything because as soon as they try to push for their platform and programs their efforts are thwarted by the other party who, responding like a spoiled three year old puts their own interests (read pride) ahead of their opponents. Civil servants. That’s what we need not self-centered, ego-driven, professional systematicians who completely lack civility and have no concept of what it means to be a servant.
And we are no better than they. I was scrolling through my tweets today and I began to unfollow people. I get it that someone might be disappointed that their candidate didn’t win, but to make statements like: freedom and democracy died yesterday does nothing but fuel the fires that are burning and destroying. Are we spoiled children who only know how to take our marbles and go home when we don’t get our way? Or are we adults who know how to work together for the common good? Why does it take tragedy and adversity to blur the political lines so we can work in unity? Why isn’t this modus operandi?
I finally came upon a few tweets that encouraged prayer for our nation, our leaders, and our president. As believers, shouldn’t that be what we are about? If there is one thing I heard, it is this: it is time to move forward. Moving forward doesn’t mean abandoning our values, but it does mean letting go of the thinking that we have to go back in time to something for things to be better. Let’s make things better now.
When I was a therapist working with children, I often used an illustration about making cookies. As anyone who knows me will attest to, I am not a cook, nor a baker. In my life I have burned more cookies than I can count. My cookies also tend to stick to the pan, resulting in more crumbs than cookies. I gave up crying about crumbly cookies long ago because I learned that cookie crumbs are valuable, too. Cookie crumbles go good on ice cream or in oatmeal. They are not something to be wasted, they are to be used and celebrated. Life offers us many opportunities to look for creative solutions and possibilities within situations. I can see oodles of applications of this to our situation today.
One of the things I have found to be critical in my life of faith and in my life as a responsible citizen, is personal accountability. This political climate and situation isn’t an ‘us vs. them’ problem. We all need to be accountable and responsible. We need to be sure that our horizontal relationship with God is right and then work for the same in our vertical relationships with one another. Freedom and democracy didn’t die, but I sure wish animosity would. I wish self-promotion would. Those are the things that are choking out what is good, and true, and Godly.
So how will we respond? Will we whine and put bumper stickers on our cars that inform others we didn’t vote for this leadership and we don’t intend to work with it either? If so, I’m pretty sure it will not be honoring to God or impactful on a world in desperate need of a Savior. Or will we choose to work towards unity? Will we speak up for those who have no voice? Will we endeavor in our words and our actions to do nothing that is not honoring to God? Will learn to agree to disagree without being disagreeable? Will we seek to move forward without beating others over the head with how things used to be and make something good and right out of what we have now?
The balloting may be over, but there are still plenty of choices to be made.
I love making up words. I can’t help myself sometimes….
Anyway. I’ve read some posts that have been encouraging people to daily write about what they’re thankful for. I like this idea. I was impressed to even read that my older daughter is participating in this.
Realizing that I am already a day behind, I will consider two things for which I am thankful.
First, I am thankful for my dogs. We inherited our two from our youth pastor at our former church. At the time he thought he was going to be moving and starting work on his PhD. He felt it would be difficult enough to find a house for his growning famil to rent and suspected that he wouldn’t be able to take the dogs. His desire was that someone would adopt both dogs since they had been together since they were pups.
Here are the boys:
This is Lucky 
And this is Spenser 
And this is the boys taking me for a walk. <a href="
” title=”Walking”>
I’m thankful that I found the split leash so that I can walk them together. I’m abundantly thankful that I found the no-pull harnesses. Before I had these two items, walking the dogs was next to impossible. Each time we walked I’m sure my arms grew a couple inches. They still pull me along, but that’s more because I’d rather stroll and they’re looking for an aerobic workout. I really love taking walks with them now–it’s good for both of us.
My second thankful thought belongs to my church.
Nelson and I have been attending here since July 2011. I am a member. It is such a blessing to me to see my husband involved again and digging deeper spiritually. We also take our grandson and he has been getting so much from his time there as well. Just the other night, he and I had a pretty lengthy conversation (keep in mind, he’s only 6) about baptism. Tonight and tomorrow Nelson and I will be attending a marriage seminar, too.
This is our senior pastor, Pastor Tom.
Our congregation would appreciate your prayers for our pastor. On Wednesday evening he was admitted to an area hospital with Dengue Fever and pneumonia. Thanks!
As I began the year, I asked God to give me a word or theme that would be a guide for me as I journeyed through the days. The word that seemed to bubble up for me was prayer. Right on the heels of that I found and ended up teaching Will Davis, Jr.’s book, “Pray Big” at church. No sooner had I started that than I was asked to participate on a parachurch weekend team in the position of prayer. I like it when God makes things that plain.
This weekend is the time when I will be sequestered away and focused on prayer. I can barely describe how honored and humbled I feel to be given this opportunity. I have been part of the music ministry, given talks, and even been responsible for the spiritual direction of the weekend, but being asked to pray…wow.
During our last team meeting I was sharing with someone how blessed I feel to participate this way. I mean, when was the last time someone told you that all you had to do for the next three days is pray? Some might consider that boring or a daunting task. Not me.
Now the downside to this hit me last Sunday as I sat quietly in my pew at church preparing for the worship service to begin. I read over the list of prayer concerns within our congregation and was immediately aware of a heaviness in my heart. My eyes filled with tears as I realized that to really be engaged and involved in the ministry of prayer is be broken, broken and open to the needs and hurts of others and broken and open to the God of Heaven whose deepest desire is to meet those needs.
I have thought about that a lot this week. I have walked through the week with a new sensitivity and awareness. Prayers have been whispered immediately so as not to be forgotten. I gained a deeper connection with the way the Word describes how Jesus was moved with compassion as he looked out at the people of that day. Are you familiar with those passages? Two places in Matthew’s gospel, Matthew 9:36, and 14:14, describe how Jesus responded when he looked out over the crowd and saw their needs, both physical and spiritual. Later, in Luke 15, we find the story of the Prodigal Son, which could be called the Loving Father. In it we find that when the son finally comes to his senses and is walking home, practicing his apology along the way, he is swept off his feet by his father who deaf to the son’s words meets him “filled with compassion.”
I have often been put in the position of pray-er because of my former ministerial roles or my personality, spiritual and extrovert. It’s like being given the job of secretary in a group because you’re the only girl. I used to respond with a ready, “Have prayers will pray.” I never minded it, but I don’t think I really got the real deep meaning until recently. Being looked to as one who prays is an awesome responsibility.
I remember how this awareness came to a church I attended many years ago. Our beloved pastor was dying due to the ravages of cancer. It got to the place where the cure was worse than the disease and were put in the position of standing beside him as he finished his journey. Fortunately, our congregation had several retired or unassigned pastors, I was one, who were able to divide the responsibilities and make sure that there was no lapse in spiritual leadership. During this time, the prayer life of this congregation reached a new and deeper level, and the really amazing thing was how it went beyond the walls of our building. People in the community began to see how our lives and the life of the fellowship was being changed by prayer. We began to receive calls from people asking for prayer, people who had no ties to our body, but who were moved by the prayers of the people there.
I want to be that kind of person of prayer. I don’t want to be a “rent a pray-er” or someone who gets the job just because of a role or theological training. This broken feeling is heavy, but I don’t want to lose it–not because it makes me special, but because it forces me to go deeper in my relationship with God. There are moments when I just feel I can’t not pray. (Yes, I know that’s a double negative.) I’m praying as I walk through Walmart, at the bank, for the loud kid and frustrated parent at the Library. I pray for the car speeding by me that they will arrive safely and if they’re speeding because they’re trying to get to someone at a hospital (because no one should be in that big a hurry for any other reason…). I’m starting to see that anything and everything can be turned into prayer.
I feel ready for this weekend. That’s a little scary. I believe that there are going to be some tough spiritual battles this weekend. It won’t be a cakewalk. But the words spoken to Esther by her uncle have been ringing in my ears: you have been chosen for such a time as this.
Have you ever wondered what you have been chosen for? What will God accomplish through you this weekend? Do you believe that he wants to be that intentional in your life? Will you be open to it?
In a few weeks I will participating in a parachurch weekend (similar to Walk to Emmaus). It is such a blessing to serve on the team. Sometimes I wonder who receives more team or participants. But I don’t worry too much, I just soak it all in.
Our theme for the upcoming weekend is Job 37:14. I have been working on something that I want to offer for palanka. I thought I’d share it here because the truth applies to wherever we are in our journey and whoever is right there with us.
Stop! It’s a word that I find myself often using with my grandson. Stop talking. Stop cutting. Stop. Stop. Stop. And the most frustrating thing about that is that if he would stop when I told him to, it would save him—and me—so much grief, or clean up, or apology. But even at just 6yrs of age, he thinks he knows more than me. To say that he’s willful barely touches the depths of his strong character. But what good is that kind of strength if there’s no willingness to trust one who is older, wiser, and more experienced?
Do you ever wonder if God ever feels that way with us?
Consider. Think about it. Marvel at it. Ponder it. Reflect on it. Look deeply. See what’s there. Take it apart. Touch it. Taste it. Ask questions about it. Desire to know it inside and out, upside and down. Imagine the infiniteness.
Do you think God ever wishes we would consider Him that way?
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The wonders of God.
The miracles of God.
The amazing things in creation.
The mind-boggling things we have no explanations for.
The delicate and fragile.
The strong and enduring.
Powerful natural moments bringing beauty and disaster.
Tragic accidents that result in devestating loss and incredible unity.
Feats of athleticism and artistic creativity.
Simple and complex.
Unfathomable and unexplanable.
Beginnings and endings.
Love. Joy. Peace. Grace.
Wonder-full gifts from wonder-full Father.
And here’s the most incredible thing of all. Since the beginning of time he has been working in the lives of thousands of people to prepare this weekend just for you. You are here by His design. You were meant to be here right now, with these people, in this place. And they were meant to be here with you. There will be no other perfect time for God to give you the gifts of grace like this moment.
Stop and consider that!
Text: Numbers 22
Just about every time that I’ve heard this story, the emphasis has been that if God can use a donkey to get his message across then certainly He can use “me” (the me being whoever was telling the story). But as I read the story today,I saw something very different. The focus seemed to shift from the cowering mule to the persistant angel.
Have you ever wondered what it takes for God to get through to us? How many signals do we ignore? Or maybe a better question is why? What this account shows me, and so much of my life testifies to, is that God works in many ways, by many means, to get His message, His plan, across to me. The how of my missing may be more directly related to why. He is the hound of heaven, but I have become very good at tuning out the barking dog.
So I took some time to reflect on why I’ve been ignoring the barking dog.
I’m comfortable with the way things are.
I’m afraid.
I’m listening to something else.
I assume, or hope, the dog is barking for someone else.
I’ve come to accept the barking as just a part of life. Everybody has barking dogs, thy’re eveywhere, so what you going to do?
I am thankful as I have journey through this Lenten season that God has barked, spoken so clearly to me. I started out the year thinking that I was going to focus on prayer. While I have to a certain degree, it has been because my fear has driven me to it. Having opportunity to teach a Suday School class where we discussed a book about pinpoint praying helped that focus as well.
God hasn’t used a donkey to get through to me, unless you are considering my own metaphorical stubbornness. He has however gotten my attention through some unusual things. I heard him whisper that I had been worrying too much as I stepped on the scales every morning and saw the frustrating results of my emotional eating. He answered my prayer about writing with a scholarship to the Blue Ridge Mountains Christian Writers Conference and then to me that it is time to stop dreaming and start doing. For so long I have been praying about a particular issue that my husband has been struggling with for years and this past week during spiritual enrichment services the Spirit broke through. And I felt God’s smile envelop me and assure me that he has heard my heart’s cry and not to worry because he’s been working in ways I cannot see because he loves my husband more than me. I let him know that I’m okay with that.
I wish I could stay right here in this spiritual place, feeling encouraged and provided for. I’d happily just pitch my tent and sit. I hear him so well here. But that thinking didn’t work for the disciples when they wanted to stay on the mountain. So I guess I’ll travel on, but I’m going to be listening harder. No donkey’s going to have to get my message from God.
Have been thinking a lot about fear these past few days. Have been feeling it, too. Not liking it very much conceptually or emotionally.
I broke down and tried to tell a friend about it. We were having our weekly Bible study (currently we’re translating and studying the Gospel of Mark). Before we dive into the text, we spend some time catching up and sharing what’s been happening in our lives. She asked me if I had been doing any writing and I had to confess that I had been too frozen by fear to be creative at all. She didn’t get it. I don’t blame her, neither do I.
I am facing a day in the very near future when I will bring to a close a very shame-filled part of my life. March 26th should be a time of celebration, but I am afraid that some kind of hiccup in the system is going to happen and instead of an end I will just experience a never-ending dark hanging over my life. My fear isn’t completely unfounded for in the middle of this “sentence” there was legislation that temporarily snatched away the hope of an end. It was a very dark time for me. I found that living without hope of end of pain, emotional in my case, is difficult to say the least.
My friend went on to ask me how my faith was impacting this fear. Her question implied that if I had faith then I wouldn’t have fear. I wish it were that simple. Perhaps the problem is that for me, it’s not just about fear–it’s really about control. Who’s really in control of my life and can I trust the one who is in control to do a better job of managing my life than I can? What if He takes me to a place that is overwhelmingly difficult? Why can’t I have some of the ease that others get?
Thinking this way took me on a journey through scriptures that should bring me comfort and contentment. There is the verse that is often quoted from Jeremiah, that God has plans for, plans that involve hope and a future, is generally taken out of context. If you read the entire chapter, you find that God has put his people in a very dangerous exile and told them to get comfortable. Job, asks a question that echoes what these folks must have been feeling and fearing: shall we take the good and not the bad? Life must have looked better to the one to whom the Psalmist wrote Psalm 37. He or she seemed to be in a difficult place and when they looked around them people who were living rough and faithless lives seemed to be prospering. It didn’t seem fair.
Ok. Everything written up to this point is from yesterday and before. What a difference a day makes. Or at least, what a difference a sermon can make. I had one of those moments this morning when I was almost positive that my pastor had been reading my emails, blogs, or mind this week. His message was straight from God’s heart to mine. (And I told him so, too.)
The title of the message was “Victory and Deliverence.” He used Acts 12:1-11 as his text. It was one of his more powerful and spirited sermons. Or maybe it just seemed that way, since it felt like he was sharing it just with me. I was most affected by the first half, the part about victory. He shared that he had a thought, one that didn’t come from his many books and it impacted his preparation. “Victory doesn‘t require winning.” He spoke about trusting God and not being concerned about the outcome. The pump was primed for me during the offertory, of all things. The pianist played a beautiful arrangement of “Because He Lives.” As I listened to the music, I was totally captured by the phrase: “Because He lives, I can face tomorrow. Because He lives, all fear is gone.” Looking at the pieces individually may not have the same impact for you, but it just about knocked me over.
Pastor didn’t know about my nagging fear. He knows March 26 is coming for me, but he had no idea how I had been struggling. The pianist has no clue about my fear or the importance of March 26 for me. Yet both she and the pastor, in obedience to God shared exactly what I needed to hear to get me through this trying time.
Tuesday, the 27th, may not be any different than the day before. Some emergency law may go into effect that in effect snatches away my intensely anticipated and longed for freedom, but I know I’ll be okay.
To seal the deal for me, one of the major points in this morning’s Sunday School lesson (which the co-teacher taught today, not me) was that we need to have a “so be it” attitude (think Mary speaking to the angel about being God’s handmaden, or Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemene) in our relationship with God, especially as it pertains to our prayer life.
I no more know what the 26th or 27th will hold any more than I know what’s going to happen in the next minute, hour, or day. What I do know is that I know who’s I am. I know that whatever the plan is, wherever the path leads, I can trust the maker of path and plan to have what’s best for me–even when I can’t see it or don’t understand. I have already been delivered from the worst and am a victor through Christ. And really, what more do I need? I can’t think of anything.
Funny. I don’t feel afraid anymore. And the only thing that’s changed is me.
(Sorry for the lapse. Computer and then internet issues have sought to sabotage my commitment to daily writing. Thank you for hanging in there with me.)
Being bored has never been a good thing. When I was a kid, if I told my mom I was bored, she would gladly find me something to do…and it was never pleasant. Remembering this, I did what all mothers do: I passed the same trick along to my children, foster children, and grandchildren. The mere threat of my finding something for them to do generally cured any malaise.
So what about me? How as an adult do I do battle with boredom? I began by considering the antonyms for boredom, as suggested by dictionary.com: amuse; thrill, enrapture. Hmmm. The last few days I’ve been amusing myself with my new Nook Tablet. I have enjoyed learning its intricacies and capabilities. That has been good. Thrill? Not big into thrills. I wasn’t blessed with an abundance of curiosity or daring. I’m not even sure I’ve thought of thrill in a positive light for a very long time. Lately all I can think of is saying that I’m not thrilled about something or other, usually about feeling like I have no choices. My time doesn’t seem to belong to me. I don’t have any pocket money to blow. What would I do if my time were my own? Would it be thrilling to make a few choices? To say no when everyone expects me to say yes? Hmmm.
Enraptured. Now there’s something to think about. I just dashed over to dictionary.com again to check whether I really knew what the word meant. To me it’s an all encompassing kind of word. It’s a feeling of being lost in something. It’s an experience engaging all my senses.
One of the actual definitions is: to delight beyond measure. And therein, as my mother would say, lies the rub. I’m not feeling much joy these days. I can’t tell you why or when joy took a hiatus, but I’m definitely missing it.
So I turned to the scriptures to find my cure. First stop, Psalms. Now I realized I was feeling like David in Psalm 13. He was one depressed dude. But in the end he returns to the source of his faith. Later he reminds himself in Psalm 37 not to worry about how good the other guy has it but trust in God who will give him the delight of his heart. Finally I landed in Psalm 51, where David writes: Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and grant me a willing spirit, to sustain me. I had trouble finding the verse. I put in several different combinations and each one included: the joy of my salvation. Now that little difference may not jump out at you, but it spoke volumes to me.
Do you wear glasses? I do. I started wearing glasses when I was 40. I’ve always had trouble with my eyes (4 corrective eye muscle surgeries before I was 9), so I was familiar with the ocular device where the doctor asks you to consider which lens is clearer, “This one or this one? This one or this one? This one or this one?” This part of the examination seems to take forever, and some of the differences are so minute that they’re practically indistinguishable.
That’s what I started thinking about as I considered the difference between “my salvation” and “your salvation.” How much difference can one word really make? For me, in this case, a huge difference. As I reflected, I realized that I was once again at that place where I want things the way I want them. I had been relying upon my wisdom, my strength, my salvation. Interesting side note: I just spelled that slavation–as if doing it my made me a slave to my self and didn’t provide what I needed most: salvation from the only one who can truly provide it, now and forever. No wonder I had lost my joy.
I wish I could say that I have determined three steps to reach my goal of restored joy. Wouldn’t that be nice? Right now, all I can muster is a determination to seek after God and his salvation through greater dependence on the word and more time in direct communication with him in prayer. And trust me, I’ll let you know where that gets me. Shalom.
Yesterday my reading in “Pray Big” was still regarding praying for others who are either struggling with faith or living life their own way. The author, Wll Davis, Jr., used the story of Jesus raising Lazarus to make his points about praying for others.
One of the points that really impacted me was praying that Jesus would meet people where they are—and that’s not typically in the church. Church, in fact, for most believers is the last place they want to be. Too much judgment. Too much perceived hypocracy. Too much that is unfamiliar and uncomfortable. And for most, too many painful memories. Why not instead pray that Jesus will ambush, interupt, come alongside them right where they are?
The thing that hit me freshly here was the very idea of praying Jesus would show up. I had often prayed that God would put someone in a person’s path who would direct them to God, but it never occurred to me to invite God directly into that person’s life. Seems pretty audacious, but isn’t that the kind of God we have? We, human beings, weren’t getting the message so well from others, not from prophets, priests, or kings, so God sent his son not only to teach about the way, but to walk it for us. His very name indicates his desire to enter into our messed up lives, Emmanuel—God with us.
Beyond just praying Jesus onto the scene of a person’s life was the new way of how that should and could happen. Imagining Jesus coming alongside someone in an Emmaus sort of way had a nice appeal, probably more so than blindingly bursting onto the scene in a Damascus Road (see Luke 24 and Acts 9). Yet either could be quite effective given a person’s particular situation or personality.
Reading this and thinking through it has truly energised my desire to pray for others. I feel like I gained more than a tool. In a new way, I realize I have a really huge ally and that feels really good!
Pot of Manna 