Lord, I Need You

     A few weeks back, at choir practice, we began to practice a song we sang years ago in a Christmas program.  As much as I love the song, I remembered standing with my choir during that year’s play, weeping uncontrollably.  I was mortified.  I just couldn’t stop.  The memory of sobbing publicly isn’t what bothered me in choir practice, though.  As soon as the first line began to play that evening, my heart ached to know that the situation that bothered me so much that night, nearly ten years ago, bothers me today.  If anything about it has changed, it is only that its grip seems stronger, its casualties many more, and the hope of it ever changing seems nearly dissolved.  As relieved as I felt that it was easier to choke back the tears over it (because when I lose it, it gets UGLY, y’all!), something about that left me uneasy.  I felt more uncomfortable that I was uncomfortable where I should feel most comfortable.  Does that make sense?

      I was cursed to be born with the desire to do my very best at everything I do…unless it’s something I hate to do.  And if it’s something I don’t do well, I hate it.  Does that make sense?  I’m a good laugher.  I like to laugh.  Laughing is my friend.  We’re buds, me and Laughing.  But I don’t cry well.  Therefore, I hate crying.  I ignore it and avoid it at all costs. So, if you see me crying, then something has defeated me.  I’ve lost the fight.  Crying and I went toe to toe, and I got whipped.  I know the distaste for appearing vulnerable is rooted in pride, so I hate that, too.  So, I try not to appear vulnerable to keep from appearing prideful.  Yes, I know.  More pride.  But then, to say I hate my pride would sound prideful.  Does that make sense?  Back to the song…

     As they practiced, and I wrestled, it occurred to me that having discarded hope of the situation changing was a far deeper root of pride than not wanting folks see me cry.  Job 8:13 comes to mind here.  “So are the paths of all that forget God; and the hypocrite's hope shall perish:” To know He is Almighty, yet entertain the thought that we can really know His final decision in a matter (besides the absolutes of Scripture, of course) is forgetting who He is, and to personally know Him, but believe He doesn’t consider every desire of my heart is hypocritical.  And, take it from someone who has learned the hard way…it only leaves you hopeless. 

     I didn’t cry that night…not there, anyway.  But, be sure that at home late in the night, God and I discussed the matter and I found myself where I usually find myself…needing more of Him.  And, as I tried to croak out the words to that song, He assured me He knew how much I needed Him and that He was in control of the situation.  Of course, He is.

     But, let the record show…I still hate crying.  I still hate what makes me cry and what makes me not want to cry, too.  Does that make sense?

                           “It is good that a man should both hope and quietly wait for  

the salvation of the LORD.” Lamentations 3:26

LORD, I NEED YOU

By Ron Hamilton

Sometimes when life seems gentle and blessings flood my way,
I turn my gaze away from You and soon forget to pray.
But when the sky grows darker and courage turns to fear,
My anxious voice cries upward with words you long to hear.

Lord, I need You when the sea of life is calm.
O Lord, I need You when the wind is blowing strong.
Whether trials come or cease, keep me always on my knees…
Lord, I need You. Lord, I need You.

Lord, help me to remember I'm weak but You are strong.
I cannot sing apart from You, for Lord You are my song.
Although I'm prone to wander and boast in all I do;
Lord keep my eyes turned upward so I depend on You.

Lord, I need You when the sea of life is calm.
O Lord, I need You when the wind is blowing strong.
Whether trials come or cease, keep me always on my knees…

Lord, I need You.  Lord, I need You.

Prayer for our President

 God of Heaven, prize of my heart,

     Thank you for America.  Help me to never forget that my life could be very different today.  You privileged me to be born here to wonderful parents who have only ever loved and taught me Your Word and mirrored your characteristics. 

     This morning, I will stop to vote on my way to school.  My girls will be with me to witness the great privilege of our democracy.  May they always remember and realize the importance of this day and have the same honor when they’re grown.  God, bless our president.  I know even the king’s heart is in Your hand and, like water, You can turn it wherever You would have it go.  May our president do justly, love mercy, and walk humbly.  May he value all life You give and love Israel and her God.  I pray he has the heart of David, the valor of his mighty men, the wisdom of Solomon, and the love of Your Son. 

We love you, Jesus.

Amen.

“This matter is by the decree of the watchers, and the demand by the word of the holy ones: to the intent that the living may know that the most High ruleth in the kingdom of men, and giveth it to whomsoever he will, and setteth up over it the basest of men.” Daniel 4:17

Satisfied Early

     Today, I’m catching up on housework and preparing for our next school week.  I have found now that I’m working every day, my time at home seems more precious.  The Saturday mornings in p.j.’s are invaluable, and coming downstairs to a clean kitchen sets the tone for my whole day.  Surprisingly, after a late evening at the school yesterday, the kitchen was clean this morning…and it has been a good day. 

     Earlier, I had a few minutes to sit out on the porch and watch my girls play on the trampoline.  Watching them did what it usually does…it drew me back to when I was a girl.  Their age difference is about the same as the years between my cousin Shannon and me, and since she was more like my sister, I found myself on memory lane, once again, next to her at the creek behind her house.  I remember so well the place where we used to build dams in the creek and string clotheslines from trees.  It was lovingly named “The Rock”.  We named it that.  We were creative that way.  It was named after a big…umm…rock that was there along the creek.  (Cut us some slack!  We were little.)  We worked to build the best dams, made brooms out of tree limbs to sweep our “house”, had church services, funerals, and the occasional baptism (against orders).  We rowed downstream to help neighbors who were sick.  All pretend, of course.  The Psalmist said, “we spend our years as a tale that is told”, and boy, do our years have some tales to tell! 

     When I came in to read a little, I found myself in Psalm 90 reading that very same passage.  The verse that seemed to strike a chord with me most was verse 14, “O satisfy us early with thy mercy; that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.”  Early in life, God showed Himself to me.  I certainly hope my life is one that rejoices in the mercy He has shown!  Then, just two verses down, he says, “Let thy work appear unto thy servants, and thy glory unto their children.”  Maybe I’m wrong, but it seems to me there is little glory being passed down to children these days.  Could it be that their parents haven’t been looking for opportunities to serve?  Could it be that in our rush from one activity to the next…one store to the next…one game to the next…we’ve stopped being servants?  I think Shannon and I spent our playtime “working” because it was all we had ever known.  We had seen our parents serve in and outside the church, giving their time and energy for all that really mattered…for people and for the God they loved.  Their example was mirrored in our pretense and the glory of their work has shown in our lives.  Please don’t misinterpret this as bragging.  It is only the grace of a loving heavenly Father, and I marvel nearly every day that He would lavish me with a past and present life so blessed. 

     A few days ago, I found myself pretty exhausted and wondering if it would all really pay off.  When I read my cousin Matthew’s facebook post, I was reminded that it isn’t about the payoff at all.  Mother Theresa said, “If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”  As generic and overused as it sounds, it is all about love.  My heart’s desire is to leave an example of service for my children, a willingness to work, but most of all a legacy of love.  And, this may be a little off subject, but I pray their memories are also filled with river rock, bare feet, and tree branch brooms.

 “And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon us:  and establish thou the work of our hands upon us; yea, the work of our hands establish thou it.”~Psalm 90:17                

Time Will Tell

     There is hardly a day that passes without finding me anxious to check in with everyone here at The Daring Life.  And yet, my intentions, however sincere they may be, never seem to place me here at the keyboard often enough.  (Now would be a great time to promise to blog more often or set some sort of goal, but who are we kidding?  This is me, here.)  I’m no busier than anyone else.  Actually, my life is probably less hectic than most lives these days.  Usually, the problem is having five thousand things I want to say and not being able to narrow them down to the one or two I think people may be the slightest bit interested in reading about.  But enough of that.  I’m sitting here now, so here goes…

     Occasionally, you have a short time to sit alone in the quiet and realize and recount how many wonderful things have just happened.  That “short time” occurred for me this morning on my front porch.  Even though it’s a little stuffy out, it smells like Fall this morning, and something about watching the first red and yellow leaves slip from their branches and twirl to the ground makes me nostalgic and, frankly, a little weepy.  My girls are vegged out in front of the TV (another occurrence you’ll seldom see around our house) and Clark was called in to work, so I feel like I have a few minutes to myself.  I’m trying not to be giddy about that, so I don’t fight the guilt later.  ~sigh~ Scratch those last two sentences.  They have already been up here.  I put them in a bubble bath.  That buys me a good thirty minutes.  What better use of my time than to share with you a few of the blessings recently afforded me?      

     In the last month or so, I have begun serving in a ministry long dear to my heart.  Any ministry is dear to our hearts, but occasionally God allows us the privilege to find that one that seems to fit so well and we find ourselves wondering how we made it so long without its presence.  It seems almost human, like a dear friend who, even in your time away, never left your heart and has been waiting patiently for you to find your way back…a friend that accepts you for all the changes time has made in you, yet knows you’re still just you and that’s okay.  I am honored to be teaching at Seneca Trail Christian Academy this year.   

     The mornings are almost always foggy on the hill where the school is, and nearly every time I round the curve to pass Miss B’s house, I find myself squinting through the fog, like searching for a face in a crowd…waiting for that reassuring glance that lets me know my “friend” is still there. I imagine our school  like a Mary who lavishes every bit she has to bless the Lord she loves. She is there where I left her nearly a decade ago.  She has been hard at work and time has made its changes in her, too.  But, to me, her changes have left her even more beautiful than when I departed.  More beautiful for the lives she has touched and changed.  More beautiful for all she represents…and more importantly, for Whom she represents.  What made me love her is all still there and what time has changed makes me respect her heart and determination. 

     This past week, I was also privileged to see my grandparents renew their wedding vows in celebration of their fiftieth wedding anniversary.  Last night, as I looked over the photos I snapped that day, it was plain to see time is no more a respector of persons than of places.  For an instant, I was tempted to think of time as a cruel thing…a mocker, a stealer of youth, a ruthless changer of all we build and hold dear.  Then it occurred to me how much more beautiful someone is when the testimony of their life is apparent.  When the moment we see their face, we also see years of hard work, tears, or laughter, they are so much more beautiful than the inexperience of youth, and we wonder what secrets time is keeping.  Even seeing the physical effects of sin, whether it was their own personal sin or the effects passed on from a choice made by someone else, we are grateful for a loving and forgiving Savior.  We love Him because He first loved us.  And, just maybe we love Him even more for loving the ones we love.

     I hope, my friends, you are blessed to know as many beautiful people and places as I am blessed to know.  Perhaps, today you’ll find yourself with an old friend or even a stranger in a check-out line wondering what made them so beautiful.  Was it love?  Heartbreak?  Laughter?  Years of labor?  Maybe, like me, you’ll wonder if you will be fortunate enough to be so beautiful some day.  I wish I could say…but only time will tell.

“And he changeth the times and the seasons: he removeth kings, and setteth up kings: he giveth wisdom unto the wise, and knowledge to them that know understanding:  He revealeth the deep and secret things: he knoweth what is in the darkness, and the light dwelleth with him.”~Daniel 2:21-22

That's a Rap

     Upon finding a deer pleasantly munching on tomatoes inside our electric-fenced garden, today...I was moved...moved to grab three rocks, sneak through the yard, and madly hurl them, while screaming at the top of my lungs.  It was really something to see!  Almost instantly, I started composing a rap about it in my mind.  Enjoy.

They hear my name & they tremble in fear.

They know I’ll chase ‘em.  I’m the terror of deer.

Far & wide, they let each other know

That I don’t like ‘em.  I’m the foe of does.

Ya think you’re tough, buck?

Think raiding gardens is fun?

You better just tuck

Your white tail & run.

You’re in for quite the painful shock.

When, Laura Dare proceeds to pelt you with rocks.

Word.

     I typed that in bold print because it seemed more "hood". 

All Shook Up

     Have you ever came to the end of a day, week, or month and had to seriously wonder if all of that really just happened?  Every so often, we live surreal things.  We wake up and realize we just lived what we most often only read about in books or the news.  Some people look back and say things like, “It really wasn’t as dramatic as I imagined it would be.”  Let me just say that those people need friends and family like mine.  Drama is in no short supply around this chick.  Let me be clear.  I am not the least bit dramatic…only very descriptive.  (Certain friends would strongly disagree, but that’s okay.  I love them despite their misconceptions.) 

     Most folks who read my little blog live in the area that, like ours, was pelted by the 2012 Super Derecho.  Just for the record, I think “super” shouldn’t have been included in its description.  “Extremely Large Very Inconvenient Scary-as-all-get-out” or ELVIS, for short, seems much more appropriate.  Since I live in my own reality, I’ve decided that henceforth, the storm will be referred to as Elvis.  (Just a little heads-up to help you better understand the rest of the blog.)

     So, here goes.  That morning, my friend, Bek & I set out for a day at Sherwood Lake (really Lake Sherwood, except to the people who grew up there).  Sidebar:  ~Bek is my pal who keeps me grounded, but doesn’t let me dig my heels in too deep.  She seems to know what’s Always on My Mind.  Her It’s Now or Never attitude reminds me to seize the day, to not let Trouble drag you down and keep you there, because, it’s Funny How Time Slips Away.  She helps me Get Back to what makes me happy when my Suspicion runs rampant and my mind convinces me I’m a failure.  She’s my Sweet Brown In the Ghetto.  (Only she will get that last one.)  ~

     So, off we go with our children in tow…wait that reminds me…my toe.  Another sidebar:  ~Before we met to go laking, I had to swing by my other friend’s house so she could check out my toe.  Now, despite the fact that my toes possess a natural beauty that people “can’t help falling in love” with, she only wanted to see it because I had been “cryin’ all the time” with it.  It’s good to explain here that she’s not just my friend, but my doctor as well.  She was pretty sure it was gout and ordered some tests to confirm that.  She was right, by the way.  Of course, I wasn’t about to delay my fun in the sun with my Sweet Brown, so I decided to wait and get the tests done the next day.  She, of course, looked at me like I was crazy to put it off.  She was right, by the way.  (Please don’t tell her I said that twice!)~ 

     So, since Fools Rush In, we trek up to Sherwood, and, despite the quickly worsening toe pain, have a great time, watching our kids swim and picnicking under the shade trees.  We make it back to town and sit down on the porch to enjoy supper at a local pizzeria, when we’re asked to come inside since a storm is coming.  No biggie, right?  Ummm…wrong.  It was, most definitely, a biggie.  Long story short, we spent the next four hours making a normally twenty minute trip.  What we thought was going to be a little Kentucky Rain ended up being the Devil in Disguise, and the song running through my mind was If I Get Home on Christmas Day.  (Okay, not really.  But still.)  Even longer story short, we spent most of the next week together with no power or water, running (me hobbling) back and forth between water holes, trying to cool off or bathe. 

     One Night can change everything, can’t it?  It changed a lot for me.  I kept thinking of a skit Bro. Randall Topping did at church camp one year called “The Big Toe of Sin”.  Now, let me quell Suspicious Minds…I don’t believe I had gout to be punished, but I do believe it may have been a wake-up call, of sorts.  I’ve spent too much time lately at Heartbreak Hotel.  I would be lying to pretend I’m not still struggling, but just like the night Elvis danced through our neck of the woods, I’m Gonna Get Back Home Someway. 

     So, there you go.  Undoubtedly, my cheesiest blog yet.  Don’t Be Cruel.  I don’t get out much.  And, whatever you do…lay off my Blue Suede Shoes.

Take Me Back

     Today, I saw the most lovely picture of dogwood blooms.  Instantly, my heart ached to sit and talk with my beautiful grandparents.  For so many years, the biggest dogwood I’ve seen grew in their front yard.  So many times, I sat in its branches looking over at the nests built in the big birdhouse across the yard.  I can clearly see the big snowball bushes and cement planters around the porch and smell the scent of biscuits, gravy, fried apples, and coffee drifting from the kitchen.  It’s funny how things take you back. 

     I can hardly remember a day growing up without spending some, if not most, of my days with my grandparents.  No doubt, they tired of it.  I literally remember sitting against the wall outside the bathroom while my hard-working grandmother bathed and patiently answered my questions and listened to my stories through the door.  And there were so many walks along the railroad tracks with Papaw, kicking rocks and listening to stories of his childhood. I could never remember a specific one.  They all run together in my mind, all rolled into one big memory, one existence, one life that seems so long ago…but still, so much like yesterday that I can feel the hem of Mamaw’s robe and smell Papaw’s Old Spice aftershave and tobacco.  I would very much like to go back…but only if I could take my husband and girls with me.  Everyone should see and hear memories as sweet as the ones afforded me.  Memories my family before me worked and suffered to hand down, memories that cost so much.

     Now, before you picture two little old people holding hands in rockers, you need to realize my Mamaw also was a drag racer in her younger days (literally) and my Papaw drove a street bike.  Papaw would fight a buzz saw, and I have a sneaking suspicion Mamaw would have had his back.  They were no pansies.  They were daring.  They were hard-working, fight for who you love Americans who endured much pain and heartache all throughout their lives. But what I love most is that they were real, and that I was privileged to know them and be loved by them.        

     There is so much more to tell!  One day, I want to write a book about my heritage.  One day, I want to devote more time to writing.  It may never happen, I know, but something about writing frees me.  So, when given the chance, I’m going to write.  It will doubtless be sporadic and riddled with nonsense and mush.  So be it.  That just makes it that much more real, doesn’t it?  Isn’t life that way?  Up one day, down the next?  I’ve decided to not let the down keep me down, to not let the sadness or disappointments silence me, to be real for everyone to see.  Because, who am I kidding?  Everybody sees it anyway.  Now, they’ll just see it in writing.  And just maybe, someday I’ll have a grandson or granddaughter who reads of precious time spent with a real grandmother.  Or maybe, one day I’ll wake up ready to give in to the cruel parts and people of life again, and realize that life is much more that what I’m thinking.  Maybe seeing it in writing is all that will be able to remind me that my life was real.  Perhaps, when I go through another time of not feeling significant, that maybe I haven’t even been real, a scribbled page will take me back…and remind me that I have lived a daring life.    

Out of Words

     Have you ever just been out of words?  A lot comes out of words, and unfortunately, I’ve learned most of mine carry the very last things I want them to.  So, my friends, I’m signing off for a while.  I’m weary, heavy-hearted, and just out of words.  Thank you for all the kind compliments and encouragement in the past eight months or so.  I could never have dreamed my blog would have been read nearly 2,000 times, and I’m flattered you would grace my little page with your presence.  My heart’s desire is to be a help, but find that no matter how hard I search, I just seem to find more questions than answers right now.  Prayerfully, I’ll eventually find something more to offer.  Until then, I pray all the best in your lives and hope to see each of you in Heaven.

“Finally, brethren, farewell.

Be perfect, be of good comfort,

be of one mind, live in peace; and the God

of love and peace shall be

with you.” 2 Corinthians 13:11

Was I Love?

“Sometimes I think…
What will people say of me,
When I'm only just a memory,
When I'm home where my soul belongs?
Was I love
When no one else would show up?
Was I Jesus to the least of us?
Was my worship more than just a song?”

Sidewalk Prophets

    

     I was fortunate to spend much of today with a friend.  Our discussions flowed much like my own thoughts, ranging from sharing burdens of the heart to my complaint of how my fingers smelled like pennies after digging through my purse for toll money.  (I can’t stand that!)  The thought that has lingered most from our conversations has been one of the testimonies of a few fellow friends.  Their testimony is one of simplicity, yet has a most profound impact, and I’m left examining myself for the smallest spec of similarity.  They are Christ-like.  They’re the kind of people you love, and when you leave their presence, you feel somehow better and favored to have made their acquaintance.  Their similarities to Christ are so strong you can’t help but think of your time with them and smile, and something about it makes you feel like you have spent time alone with Christ Himself.  At times, their smile or word of encouragement catches you off guard, and you wonder if you had told them what you had been feeling…then forgot you told them.  (Not that I ever do that.)  Other times, their text or email comes at such a precise time, you know they listen intently and follow every leading of the Holy Spirit.  By the way…my friend is that way.  I’m so very thankful for her friendship and (sometimes brutal) honesty.

     Another thing we discussed was the situation of a loved one facing rejection.  Can anything be so debilitating as rejection?  Could anything be farther from Christ and all He came to be and teach?  Christ stands at the door of the Church saying, “Come,” and we stand at the same door to hand out a list of prerequisites.  Our children quote verses of Scripture and carry years of resentment for being treated contrary to the life those verses proclaim.  I’ve recently read of several young children who believed suicide was the only relief from the terrible pain of rejection.  Can anything be more heartbreaking to the God of Heaven?  Are we teaching our children to be loved or to be love?  Are we raising Christians or critics?  Rejection is inevitable in this world, but God help us to guard against its cruelty ever being administered in the Name of Christ and in the place where His Word is supposed to be the final authority and influence of our lives!  And may we do all we can to heal the wounds it has already inflicted and stop its destructive course!       

     I may never be more than a stay-at-home wife and mother.  The only thing I do this year may be to simply stay happily married and try to raise daughters who act justly, love mercy, and walk humbly with God.  Though my heart aches to do a “great thing”, I know that I may only be called to do a few “good things”.  But, my prayer is that God would help me to do whatever He calls me to do with the bold love of Christ and arms as open as His! 

“But Jesus said, Suffer little children, and forbid them not,

to come unto me: for of such is the kingdom of heaven.”

Matthew 19:14

A Resting Place

     I woke in the wee hours of this morning with a stomach virus.  Joy.  (Please note extreme sarcasm.)  So, while everything I had planned for today had to be cancelled, the nice thing is that I have had the time to lay around, read, and put a few thoughts on paper…and I’ve decided it’s definitely time for that bathroom remodel I’ve been considering.  I’ll just leave that thought right there.

     One thing that has weighed heavy on my mind lately is the subject of faith.  Knowing (and loving) many people facing heart-breaking circumstances as of late, I have been troubled to constantly question, along with the Savior, “…when the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith on the earth?”  (Luke 18:8)    I am a novice student of the Bible and doubt very little you could look elsewhere to find a much more in-depth, accurate study on faith.  I would, however, like to share with you some of the promptings of the Holy Spirit through my personal study and experiences and ask you to prayerfully consider your view and decide whether faith is the real motivator of your decisions and speech.

Something That Should Never Be Called “Faith”:

Denial is not faith!

     Doubtless, we have all heard of the “name it and claim it” movement sweeping the Church-world today.  I believe this movement has done a great deal of harm to real faith in the Church, and is rooted in a humanistic, “mind-over-matter” mentality, instead of the Word of God.  Romans 4:17 seems to be a big calling card verse for this movement, and people have been told to call “those things which be not as though they were.”  We must be very careful to view every verse of Scripture in its context!  If you will read the verse in its entirety, you will see that the Apostle Paul is speaking of “…even God, who quickeneth the dead, and calleth those things which be not as though they were. “  It is God who speaks things into existence from nothingness.  We are mortals, in a sin-cursed world.  Adversities and sicknesses are inevitable.  Even Jesus was “a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief”. (Isa. 53:3)  So much of the praise He is worthy of has been stolen by this incorrect view of Scripture, and I am convinced Satan himself is at the root of its lie.  When we deny someone has an illness, for example, we will probably not pray as we have been commanded, and when Christ does heal, He is not praised for His work or answer to our prayer…because we have simply ignored the problem.  We have taken the easy way out.  We have replaced asking in faith with pretense and denial.  This is simply unscriptural.    

     My friends, as much as I can possibly know my own heart…I am speaking out of love for you.  Denying the problem is robbing God of His Son’s glory, and breaking His heart.  Please note that every instance in the Bible where a miracle performed by Christ is recorded…He acknowledged the infirmity first.  The woman who touched His garment’s hem and received healing is referred to as “diseased with an issue of blood”.  (Matthew 9:20)  How could we ever forget the man who was “born blind” who received his sight at Jesus’ touch?   So many other examples are given of the miracles of our Master!  However, none of them would have been miracles had everyone denied the condition of the seekers.  Matthew 15:31 says, “Insomuch that the multitude wondered, when they saw the dumb to speak, the maimed to be whole, the lame to walk, and the blind to see: and they glorified the God of Israel.”

     Can you see how Satan has used this lie to his advantage?  The cruel irony is that scores of Christians end up carrying the burden of problems through denial instead of saying, “Here is the problem, Lord.  It is too much for me, but I know You are able to bear every burden, and I will not look on my faith, but on You, the Author and Finisher of my faith.”  You will end up weary and jaded if you place your confidence in anything other than His stripes for our healing.  There is no peace or assurance in looking within ourselves or looking away.  We must be sure to always be “Looking unto Jesus.” (Hebrews 12:2)        

“My faith has found a resting place,
Not in device nor creed;
I trust the Ever-living One,
His wounds for me shall plead.”

Standing for Stephen

September 4, 2019: This blog has been slightly edited from the original shared seven years ago. I pray it serves to strengthen our resolve to Jesus who gives and sustains our personal lives and the life of His Church.  

     This particular blog is a sort of compilation of some of my journal entries from the last several months, so forgive me if it jumps around a bit.  Though we’ll look at two very different  passages, there seems, to me, to be a common thread.  Isn’t that how it is when God is moving and teaching in your life?  It’s that way for me, and frankly, it can be exhausting.  For example, if God is dealing with me about being more faithful in my devotional time, I’ll come across stories, e-mails, or songs that remind me that I will be weak spiritually without the Bread of Life.  My kids will ask for an extra roll, and my mind goes to an account in Scripture. I’ll go to buy hotdog buns and be convicted.  It never ends!!!  I’m sure that this comes as no surprise to anyone who has read my blog since I began writing seven months ago.  My life has a general theme…an overall desire…ever-present obstacles…just like everyone else’s.  I’m only thankful God stays long enough to ensure I get the point.  And I’m thankful you have all joined me in the journey.

     Since Christmas, I have been reading a commentary on the life of the Apostle Paul, “To Live is Christ”, by Beth Moore.  I love everything about Paul’s conversion and service to Christ and have read the accounts many times down through the years.  Yet, until I read this book, it had never really occurred to me that all of Paul’s actions before his conversion were rooted in genuine passion for the Law of God.  He was a devout Jew…the ultimate Pharisee…someone convinced of the truth and concerned with its holiness being respected and preserved.  So convinced and determined, in fact, that while he was still Saul, he persecuted those who believed and confessed the Lord Jesus Christ, and found crumpled at his feet the coat of the first martyr, Stephen.  (Acts 7:54-59)  This excerpt from Beth Moore’s book speaks volumes and gains a different perspective of that day’s occurrences:

     “As Jesus watched, He didn’t miss a single nod of Saul’s phylacteried head.  Remember, Christ was up on His feet at the time.  Can you imagine the alloy of emotions He must have experienced as He looked on the two key players in the kingdom that day?  One for Him.  One against Him.  One covered in blood.  The other covered by prayer shawls.  One who could not save himself from men.  The other who could not save himself from sin.  One dead in body but alive in spirit.  One loved by God.  And the other loved by God.  Grace, grace, God’s grace.”

     Paul was standing for what he had always stood for, and Stephen was dying for something new…Someone new.  Christ had come to fulfill the Law that Saul was defending, and soon he would find himself (as Paul) convincing others that they were "not being asked to forsake their history, but merely accept the rest of the story." (Beth Moore)  I believe Saul’s intentions were good…that he was doing what he thought was right.  The simple truth, however, is that he was wrong.  The Messiah had come, and everything had changed.  His rules felt safe because they were familiar, but had he not accepted the Christ who came to “make all things new”, he and the countless others influenced by his future ministry would have faced an eternity lost and separated from God. 

     May I make a comparison?  In Luke 5:36-38, Jesus teaches, “…No man putteth a piece of a new garment upon an old; if otherwise, then both the new maketh a rent, and the piece that was taken out of the new agreeth not with the old.  And no man putteth new wine into old bottles; else the new wine will burst the bottles, and be spilled, and the bottles perish.  But new wine must be put into new bottles; and both are preserved.”  Ultimately, the old will be gone...unless it is preserved through the new. A blood line ceases if nothing new is ever reproduced...but reproduction doesn’t produce a carbon copy. The offspring will bear strong similarities, but it will still be new, and it's only reasonable to expect it to adapt to its surroundings...or you minimize its effect and possibly ensure its death. Then, all the influence of the family line is gone.  
     The Church has long forfeited the opportunity to influence lives for the cause of Christ at the determination to keep a grip on the old bottle. May I say this without meaning offense to any of my fellow believers?  No matter how high you hold the bottle, it is still destined to burst.  Clutch it tight and hold it close, but you will ultimately grasp broken pieces and weep as all it once held perishes with it.  Because the old bottle is no good?  No!  It simply cannot contain new wine.  

     I am so weary of people trying to shove me back into an old bottle!  I don’t sing the songs I sang ten years ago.  Am I thankful I had them ten years ago?  Yes, but I am even more thankful God is still speaking and doing a new work in music today…something new that appeals to my generation and the younger generation.  I am also weary of hearing the “where are the D.L. Moody’s and the Billy Sundays?  The Elisabeth Elliots?”  We have just as godly men and women now. They won’t be dressed the same. They may have a different delivery, but they are here…making a difference for Christ.  Will we be the ones standing for them?  Encouraging them?  Or will we clutch our traditions and pride and have secret satisfaction when they leave the church misunderstood and defeated?  It’s really all become a game, hasn’t it?  The old “winers” against the new “winers”.  The old bottles “wine” over the new music, clothes, and methods.  The new bottles “wine” over their exhaustion from trying to please the old bottles.  And, sadly, our influence spills to the earth and dries into the dust.  And we, like Saul of Tarsus, stand by. Except we do it, as believers. 

     But, remember that while Stephen’s faithful, precious blood stained the sand that day, Someone else was standing.  Beth Moore describes it beautifully:

“Just a day in the life of a man named Stephen.  A shooting star.  He had one brief performance.  One chance on stage.  But it was absolutely unforgettable.  As the curtain fell on his life, he received a standing ovation from the only One who really mattered.”

     Are we on our feet for the Stephens of this time in church history? Commemorating the past has its place, but we will not move forward by mixing the old & new wine...the old & new methods, old & new stigmas, old & new music, etc. We will either watch the Stephens of this generation as Saul or as Jesus. One stood over him, the other stood for him. There is no straddling the fence, here. To stand with Saul is to consent to death.  We are either shoulder to shoulder with self & tradition or we are shoulder to shoulder with Jesus in this. Lord, let us be making the right stand!  But, please help us stop mixing in the old...commemorating our glory days, because mixing the old & new may please many, but, if there is to be even the slightest new wine, an explosion is inevitable. And, while that may cause a few moments of excitement, the ultimate result will be destruction...something that grieves the heart of God and slows the advance of the truth.     
     I pray that I am found presently standing for the servants in the time of church history in which God has placed me.  And if God gives me a few decades more to live, I fully expect the services, dress, music...all of it to be very different than it is now.  And I so hope it is! That will be a beautiful testament to the creativity of my God who makes all things new. I hope I walk into church as if walking into a delivery room with all of its different sights and sounds...machines, protocol, stuff they didn't have when I was born.  All different!  But all designed to welcome new life into a world that so desperately needs it. I pray I will be the spiritual grandmother, maybe feeling a little out of place, but there celebrating life, embracing the "newborns", encouraging the "parents", knowing that this new beautiful creation born into a world to which is does not belong may endure great persecution...but they can count on me to stand in support, surrender, admiration, and intercession. 
     Saul eventually embraced the new that Stephen died for. I love that about Paul, but what I love most is that he spent the rest of his earthly life refusing to live as an old bottle trying to carry new wine. He never patched some old fabric here and there to keep the Pharisees happy. He was made new, filled with new wine, and nothing else would ever do. It was that newness that changed his direction, gave him a new name, and turned the world upside-down. God wants to do that for the present church. May we stand for the Stephens God has entrusted to our charge, be filled with new wine, and poured out as the offering Christ deserves. 
      

Isaiah 65:8 “Thus saith the LORD, …the new wine is found…Destroy it not; for a blessing is in it.”

This Stinks!

     As much as I wish I had some bit of profound wisdom to share today, the truth is, I’m up to my elbows in ordinary again.  I’m slightly perturbed at the manufacturers of Safeguard because the whole pack of bath soap I bought last week smells lemony.  I’ve already opened three bars, and sure enough, they all smell the same.  Why couldn’t they just leave it alone?  I love Safeguard, but if this unfamiliar scent graces the next pack, I’ll be forced to move on to another antibacterial bath bar…a decision that pains me greatly.  Change is one thing.  Change where I have to make a decision is another thing completely!  Luckily, my Mr. Clean with GAIN has offset the Safeguard disappointment, and now instead of unfamiliar, lemony, cheap soap smell, my bathroom odor (and whole upstairs, for that matter) resembles a freshly washed load of laundry.  That reminds me.  The shower curtain needs washed.  *sigh* It stuck to my leg last night, and I thought I may have to consider an amputation. 

     Life is a vapor.  That means it passes fast…and frankly, sometimes it stinks.  My only word of advice is to pray for contentment instead of attempting to understand the situation, and “walk in love, as Christ also hath loved us, and hath given himself for us an offering and a sacrifice to God for a sweetsmelling savour.”(Eph. 5:2)

1Timothy 6:6 “But godliness with contentment is great GAIN.”  ;-)

Our God, Jealous

     Yesterday, a dear friend posted a video on her facebook wall that has broken and convicted my heart.  I laid awake thinking on it last night, and felt compelled to share it.  I know nothing about the book they are endorsing, and I cannot affirm the facts they claim of the religion she is following.  I am most deeply moved by her actual words in the video.  Please take a few minutes to watch.  My thoughts follow. 

   

     Oprah’s answer is that her doubts about the character of God began when she heard that God was a “jealous God”, because, as she said, “God is love.”  Never a truer statement has ever been made than Oprah’s claim to 1 John 4:8, which plainly states “He that loveth not knoweth not God; for God is love.”  Yet, Exodus 34:14 is just as true to state “For thou shalt worship no other god:  for the LORD, whose name is Jealous, is a jealous God”.  How often have you heard someone praise their God, Jealous?  And, yet, here is a verse telling us that Jealous is one of the names of the God of Heaven.  It can seem contradictory to us until we explore what jealousy is, and more importantly, determine its motive in these verses.  But, first, let’s sidebar for a minute: 

     Scripture is riddled with examples like the above…phrases that seem like oxymorons or oddities.  Example:  2 Corinthians 7:10 mentions “godly sorrow”, while James 1:17 says “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, and cometh down from the Father of lights”.  Does this same God who gives good and perfect gifts also give sorrow?  Yes, because, if you read all of 2 Corinthians 7:10, you’ll see that the sorrow leads to “repentance to salvation not to be repented of: but the sorrow of the world worketh death.”  God, in His mercy, makes us sorrowful for our sin to deliver us from eternal death.  There are countless examples in Scripture, but we won’t review them all now. 

     Also, consider this before we explore the motives of our jealous God.  “O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God!  How unsearchable are his judgments, and his ways past finding out!” Romans 11:33 Why?  “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD.” Isaiah 55:8 To claim we could fully understand God’s motives or search out His wisdom would be a great pretense indeed!  Though we have been created in His image and feel many of the same things He felt in His bodily form here on earth, we must always remember that those same feelings and emotions have been tainted by sin, while He remained completely sinless.  Our anxiety is different from the anxiety He felt.  We are usually anxious over ourselves or our possessions, while the well-being of others and, ultimately, the salvation of our souls caused His grief.  Our anger is usually self-motivated, while His was a “zeal” over the reproach of His Father’s Name and His Word.  (Psalm 69:9)  Our joy is usually self-centered, while His was completely selfless.  “Looking unto Jesus the author and finisher of our faith; who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross…”  Hebrews 12:2  My heart is overflowing right now!  Oh, the sorrows He endured for me!  Could it be anything other than wondrous love? 

     With that being said, I would like to offer two possible motives of our God, Jealous.  (Shew!  I almost gave it away!)  

1.        His love for us is His jealousy’s cause. 

     Imagine, as a parent, watching one of your children love and adore someone else.  Now, because I love my children, there is an automatic twinge of jealousy that sweeps through my heart at the sight, but that’s squelched by the fact that I know my children love me and they are loyal to me.  At the end of the day, they’ll want me to tuck them in, and it’s my hand they’ll want holding theirs in the scary times.  But, what if one of them decided to choose a new mom?  What if they simply chose to discredit the care and love they had been shown and go live with someone else?  Naturally, I would be jealous.  Not because I believe the other mom is better or more adequate, but because I am the one who has loved my child since before her birth.  I am the one who has tried to meet her every need and give her the desires of her heart.  Isn’t it only reasonable to expect her love in return?  My love for her would make me jealous.  

     It is just as reasonable for a God who was gracious enough to create us in His image, give us a free will, then send His Son to redeem us from turning from Him to expect our love and be jealous when we choose to worship another god…or simply refuse to worship Him.  Jealousy is a result of love, whether it is our love of self or God’s love of us.

2.       His Omniscience is His jealousy’s cause.

     Omniscient means “having universal knowledge or knowledge of all things; infinitely knowing; all-seeing; as the omniscient God.”  Imagine, again, that in the above story, I was omniscient. (That’s a big stretch, since I don’t even know what I’m fixing for supper this evening.)  Imagine that before my daughter left to live with her new mother, I told her all the terrible things that would transpire through her life… that the other mother, though she pretended to have her best interest at heart, ultimately aimed to destroy her and separate us forever.  Her new mother would see that she married, had children, was successful, and surrounded with any material thing she desired.  She would even be allowed to visit me occasionally through the years, but nothing personal.  The visits would eventually be refused, but a reference to me would be allowed here or there, but only references to my existence…never to what I had done for her.  Then, “for her own good”, she would be encouraged to simply stop believing I had ever existed.  After all, I only held rules that would inhibit her.  The rules would be emphasized and the love would be denied and forgotten.  My daughter would live out her life, seemingly peaceably, then die with her new mother holding her hand and secretly, deviously enjoying watching her slip into eternity…without me. 

     That story makes me boil with jealousy.  Does anything make you more upset than to see someone you love make a wrong choice because they simply will not hear the truth?  Even from someone whom they know loves them?  I think one more thing makes God, in His omniscience, a little more angry. 

     See, in my story, my daughter lived a seemingly peaceful life, but such would not be the case for her children and grandchildren.  Exodus 20:5 commands us to not bow to other gods “…for I, the LORD thy God am a jealous God, visiting the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation of them that hate me”.  One thing I have learned and seen down through the years is that sin visits.  So many times, children reap the consequences of their parents’ sin.  It is heartbreaking to watch! 

     There are countless untruths that Oprah is believing...by choosing not to "believe" and basing her life on feelings.  The greatest is that a God who is love cannot be a God who is jealous, when the reality is that He is jealous because He loves.  And He loves her as much as He loves me.  My prayer is that Oprah will see the truth of God’s Word and His love for her.  I wish her no ill whatsoever.  I am, however, very disappointed that she is using her world influence to spread heresy, and I believe Christians need to speak out against this false religion.  I am most heartbroken that she has been so deceived and turned against Jesus and His work on the cross on her behalf.  I pray God sends a messenger of Truth to her, that she will repent, and use the forum God has allowed her for the Gospel’s sake. 

“Retirement may be lovely in its season, and to hide one’s self is doubtless modest, but the hiding of Christ in us can never be justified, and the keeping back of truth which is precious to ourselves is a sin against others and an offence against God.” ~ Spurgeon