Serving Two Masters….

Attitude is everything.

The child climbed into the car’s back door, but refused to get in his car seat. Usually this wasn’t a problem, but this particular day he decided he wanted to stand right behind Dad, holding on to the head rest. “Sit down!” Dad raised his voice at this second warning. The look of rebellion on the child’s face told the father that it was not going to happen today. Is there anything that exerts more will power than a 3-year-old who doesn’t want to do something? His chin jutted out, and he stayed standing.

Dad put the car into park, got out, took hold of his son, and with necessary movements put him in the car seat, snapped the buckles and got back into the driver’s seat. As he pulled out of the parking space his son yelled, “I may be sittin’ down on the outside, but I’m still standin’ up on the inside!!”

It seems to meet that I’ve been standing up on the inside a lot lately. Christmas has come and gone (but will be here again soon, for sure), and I morph into Scrooge during that time. I fight the materialism with everything I am, but it does no good against all those sweet faces turned toward me. My attitude needs a major overhaul after the holidays. I probably wrote the same thing last year.

But in the midst of all the bad attitudes, the chaos, the trials (already!), the crises (already, note the plural!), and the hurt feelings, God spoke to my heart. Don’t ever underestimate the power of the Creator Who “spoke” the world into being (John 1). As I turned to my Bible this morning, I began reading and verses I’ve read hundreds of times “lit up.” That’s God, speaking.

These were the verses that were prepared for me to be reading , the next set of verses on a morning “ritual”—not one of those “put your finger in a passage and read it” type thing. But as I read the verses “You cannot serve two masters; for either you will … love the one and hate the other…You cannot serve God and [the world]. Matt. 6:24).” Years of teaching came across my mind, God and the world… God and money… and then suddenly God shone His light directly upon those verses into my heart, and I knew He was telling me these verses can go much deeper than what I have heard all my life, and how much I needed to hear Him alone.

You see, it’s been a struggling week, one of those Stress Level Ten weeks, one where I felt caught in a conflict between an adult child and my husband. Nothing–nothing!–comes between a momma and her child (or should) no matter how old they get. A momma bear and her cub is a great analogy. Another–which I experienced a lot of years ago–is a cow and her newborn calf. I have been torn, taking up the offense of my child, and mad (as only a wife can be) that my husband would have allowed this situation. But then, God spoke to my heart.

He turned the light bulb in my mind onto the passage, and I saw, a Mother cannot serve her adult child and her husband if there is conflict. It doesn’t matter who is right and who is wrong. The truth is, the situation is out of my control and I can’t make them both happy. I can’t change anything, can’t go back and re-do the offense, can’t “fix it.” But if I keep on with my warring attitude, I will end up “hating” one and “serving” the other. But that isn’t God’s best. He made us one in marriage, and to split that unity and go against my husband is wrong, and becomes sin, and He made my child “leave the parent” when they became one with their spouse. Yuk. Yikes. Double yikes.

I also saw that “two masters” could easily be me–with all my desires to control the situation, to control what had happened, to make everything okay again (because I hate confrontation, and disunity)–and my husband, who had done what he thought to be best in a situation where, he felt, there would be no winning. He knew ahead of time it was going to cause friction, and he wisely chose to do what was best for me, rather than for our child. I needed to CHOOSE to love him. Lesson Two.

Two masters, He spoke to my heart, is always a potential in a marriage: if you and your spouse are not dedicated to seeing that you are in agreement with discipline (one of the areas where the most combat is initiated), you are causing your child/children to choose which of you to “love/serve” and which to hate. Lesson Three.

This dredged up a long-ago illustration when we four–dad, mom, son, daughter–got in the car to leave church. Our son turned to me, asking if we could stop by the local ice cream shop and get cones. I said “No.” He got a tragic look on his face and said, “Mom! I didn’t mean to ask you, I meant to ask Dad!” We went. They had learned which questions to ask which parent. To food, I usually said no; Dad said yes. After this we also made (and stuck to) rule #783: if they asked one of us, the answer was set in stone (unless extenuating circumstances dictated otherwise), and they could not ask the other parent. Good rule, even for today.

Be sure you are not serving two masters: yourself and your spouse. Or, your child and your spouse. Or… anyone but God. Even then, you have to be vigilant that you do not present a second master to yourself. God only is the First and Last in our lives, and He only holds the keys to family unity, love and working out stressful problems when we look to Him to watch our backs. He alone is holy, praise His Name.

Has the situation gone away? No, but my attitude is adjusting, and I see both sides. I also have confessed, and am sorry for the “tantrum” I threw when I first found out. God is in control, I have no doubt at all about that, and my repentant heart can now be worked on. It will be okay. This hasn’t come to stay, but has “come–to pass.” I’ll be grateful when it’s passed!

WHAT ARE YOU TEACHING?

Oct25

The child could not have been more than seven or eight: an adorable looking boy, happy and having fun at the football game. He was obviously among family who loved him. I saw him take a big drink of a soda, and something made him laugh. It happens to all of us–young and old! We laugh, and the soda (or crackers, or food) explodes from our mouth with an intensity we can’t control! Which of us can say we’ve never done that? His family instantly laughed hysterically, and, observing the fiasco, I had to smile.

In the flash of a second, however, the man sitting in the next row in front of him–and a little bit lower, as football seats go–got some drink on the back of his head, and down his neck. With the speed of a striking snake he turned, jumped up, grabbed the drink out of the little boy’s hand, and stalked out of the seats, looking for all the world like he wanted to take revenge. It was so very humiliating for the family to be caught in such a situation in public, and so distressing for on-lookers to witness such a spectacle of rage. I wanted to grab the little guy, who instantly rolled himself into a ball and tried to hold big drops of tears back, and hug him until his little spirit was calmed. It couldn’t have been more than a teaspoon or tablesp00n of soda, but you would have thought the man got soaked. And the man had not even waited to see if it had been an accident.

Scripture poured into my mind as I watched: “Who can bear a broken spirit?” (Prov. 18:14), “A [seasoned Christian] is [should be] above reproach, self-controlled” (1 Tim. 3:2), and “The anger of man does NOT achieve the righteousness of God,” (James 1:20). From the interaction when the man returned after throwing out the drink, I realized he was the boy’s grandfather. My heart was literally breaking, for many reasons: the man had not asked what happened, and whether it was an accident, he didn’t give the little boy time to re-act, and he was providing an example of what a hair-trigger temper is all about, and what it means to display it. Worse, the child was the victim of an adult who should have–by the grandfather’s age–learned self-control. Somehow I got the impression that the child saw anger like this more times than he should have.

The man’s wife tried to talk to him; I could tell she was indicating that his attitude had hurt the child terribly, and that he needed to heal that “wounded” spirit. Okay, so I sound like any problem with a child is the child’s fault, and amends should be made immediately. Not so. But let’s face it, we all laugh at “slap-stick” humor–witness I Love Lucy! Had the grandfather laughed and wiped his neck, it would have created a tighter bond and a happy ending.

I watched the older man turn around and could not believe the words out of his mouth, which I could overhear: “YOU didn’t even say ‘I’m SORRY!'” Good grief, who had had time? The trigger was pulled before the child had his mouth closed! I felt sorry for the man’s wife. But even more, I was appalled at the “Blame Game” the man used. What?! He was blaming the child for HIS own lack of being a godly role model? Again, sometimes it’s a curse (but always a blessing) to know Scripture: “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive those who sin against us” (Matt 6:14), or “How many times do I forgive my brother…” (Matt. 18:21) and more. Did I see anything Jesus said about them having to immediately–with the next breath–say “I’m sorry!”? No. You forgive immediately because it’s the right thing to do. And this wasn’t even a sin! Imagine that? Wonder how the man treats his enemies.

I reflected the next few hours on the scene I had witnessed. The child was having fun. He did something accidentally that, yes, should have had a “Grandpa, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that!” but there had been no time. But he learned that it’s okay for a person who says he loves Jesus to instantly have a rage attack against a child; he learned it’s okay to do it in public; that it’s okay to blame the other person–because, after all, for goodness sake, they caused your rage. So the Bible must be wrong–anger is okay, because it was his grandpa; anger is okay but what if I make God mad? What will He do?

What a lesson in love. Is it any wonder the world calls us hypocrites? We talk the talk, but the instant our body or feelings get tramped on, we walk a walk Satan is proud of. I pray for this little boy, that he comes to realize anger is a choice that people make when they have no self-control, when they set themselves up with pride as if they themselves never make mistakes, so it’s okay to throw a stone. Especially at a little child. “Whoever offends one of these is [in danger of hell-fire]” (Matt. 18:6). I pray this little boy does not think God is like his grandfather, and think that God re-acts in anger when he has not meant to offend.

There’s not enough fun in life on the good days, let alone on the bad days. A child laughing in fun is a beautiful thing–and a merry heart does good like medicine (Prov. 17:22). Maybe that’s why so many of our children are on medicines in this age, you think?

The painting is by Drago Ivanisevic, copyrighted, and not able to be re-copied or painted. If you have questions, please contact me.

SHOW ME YOU LOVE ME….

Oct10

Walking into the ICU room, it took our breath away to see the man hooked to seemingly every machine the hospital had available for keeping someone alive. There was the breathing machine, inserted directly into his neck in the trachea, the filtration (dialysis), removing all the blood from his body, eliminating the fluid from the it, then putting the dry blood back into the body. The body responds by saying, “Hey! I have no fluid in this!” and goes into emergency mode, pulling fluid from arms, legs, hands–wherever it can, in order to keep the blood flowing and to keep his body from filling with fluid. The IV’s were providing some nourishment–not enough, but some. Because of the throat tube, he could not speak nor swallow–only small ice chips which could run down his throat were able to be in his mouth. Talking was not possible.

By the time we left, our hearts had been wrung to the point of despair. He is not an old man, being kept alive at the whim of family, but a virile, middle-aged man, whose thinking processes are alert and high. He is aware of everything said around him, and able to interact with lip movement. It was hard to learn to lip-read in an hour, but we did the best we could.

Everyone says, “Don’t keep me alive by machines!” In this case, it is necessary. The problem? The doctors aren’t sure. His breathing, when it stopped originally, caused the family to call 911, and the rest has been almost seven months in the hospital, trying to find a diagnosis.

When we got home, I began praying “fervently.” That means you recognize God is the only one Who can do anything and man’s wisdom is wholly reliant upon Him. I prayed for just ONE doctor who would go home at night, with the thought of this father, husband, son and brother not able to move, talk, or eat, and search every book known to man for an answer–but above all, one who would seek the Healer to give wisdom.

We went back a few days later, while the doctor was in, along with several other members of a team who were changing bags, adding medication, and doing everything in their power to help him. As the doctor was leaving, a member of his family stopped him to say, “He’s nervous about what you’ve been saying; can you explain to him?” The doctor stopped at the foot of the bed and in strong, direct words said, “Don’t worry–it’s all simple [what he had been doing and saying]! Everything is looking good,” and then he explained the medication, the numbers in the tests, and more. He exuded strength and knowledge. The patient took him at his word. When he left, the family member said to us, “He’s the best doctor we could have gotten. He told us he goes home at night, and has cried tears before God, asking for wisdom for what is wrong, and how to heal him.”

My mouth fell open as I told her that is exactly, to the letter, what I’ve been praying! God had shown me in one sentence that He had heard my prayer, and was answering that one. The rest? That everything will turn out the way we want it? I don’t know yet. But God does–and He will answer in His time, and in His way.

Do you think we’re the first people to cry out to God: “God, help me to believe You are here with me! Increase my faith! God, PLEASE, show me You love me!”? No. Does it help you to know that your deepest Valley of the Shadow is one that was walked by even King David himself, as well as countless others? In Psalm 86:16, 17, David cries out, “O, turn to me and have mercy on me! Give Your strength to Your servant and save the son of Your maidservant. Show me a sign for good, that those who hate me may see it and be ashamed, because You, Lord, have helped me and comforted me!” David was crying out, “God, show me You love me!”

David went through many trials–we don’t know if God showed up on this occasion, whatever it was, or if His answer was “wait,” or “no.” That’s where trust comes in. That is where faith gets proactive, and not pew-active. That’s where the rubber meets the road. Are you going to trust that whatever He does is right, or are you going to manipulate things so that it goes your way? It always comes back to a choice for us–sometimes so hard we want to throw a tantrum, and sometimes it shows us our heart.

May we all say, “Please, God, increase my faith! Increase my trust!”

TUNNEL VISION OR DREAMING DREAMS?

Aug24

He sat down at the dining room table, feeling carefully to the left for his fork, and to the right for his knife. Gently he reached forward and touched the glass of Coke. Our granddaughter was describing the food on the table, and we were all a little unsure how to make this unseeing guest feel welcome. Within seconds, however, our granddaughter had kidded him about something that referred to his lack of sight and when he responded immediately in kind, we knew it was going to be a great time of fellowship. His sense of humor carried him through any difficulty, and if it lagged at all, she was there to make him laugh. Eventually we learned he did not mind questions, so we asked many. “What comes into your mind when someone says the sky is blue?” I asked. He said he had no frame of reference, except to conjure up an image and try to make it the “picture” that stood for “blue.” After dinner, this amazing person went to the piano and gave us a spontaneous delivery of praise and worship music. God had not given him eye-sight, but He definitely has given Brian talents that many would covet.

This past Sunday our pastor preached on vision. Perhaps not vision as a physical attribute, but the far-seeing vision that all Christians should have to see that their church fulfills the Scripture where Christ told us to go into all the world and preach the gospel, telling the story of the good news that our sins have been paid for, and we can have eternal life. (John 3:16). As he talked, I realized how there is no separating the vision one has for their church, and the vision that must be internalized into the heart for daily life.

It was many years ago, or perhaps yesterday, that someone I knew lost all hope that life would ever change. Their “vision” for a future became blind. The tunnel telescoped to a point at the end, and they could see no further than the dot, so they took the “easy way” out. Young people are especially vulnerable to losing hope that a bright future awaits them when they wake up–and go to bed–with the sounds of angry parents cursing and screaming at each other. Because they have no control over their parents, and are bright enough to realize they could not exist on the streets, the next best thing seems to be death. It is quickly over, and there will be no more screaming. Not having had someone tell them there are many places or people who will help, they end their life. It is becoming more and more common.

I sat there, realizing that I, too, have lost my vision of hope. Not perhaps for the American Dream, but hope that I am making a difference in someone’s life. Hope in the form of passion–to care about something so passionately that a sacrifice is worth the risk. Recently I read of Kimberly Smith (Make Way Partners, “Passport to Darkness”) who has gone to the people of Sudan to rescue orphans and women who are at the mercy of men with no sense of moral values. These victims take whatever comes because they have no hope of anyone rescuing them. She is a brave woman. I have to ask myself, do I care so much about comfort, security, and ease that I would not do what she is doing? I have to hang my head in shame for I’m not sure I could do it.

The sermon became a double-edged sword. Yes! I want my church to move forward, planting churches in countries where the people have never heard that there is a God who created them, watches over them, and has sent His Son to make a way for salvation. But do I want the planter to be me? I believe so. Then I think of the grandchildren. Suddenly I understand what Jesus meant when He said, He who is willing to give up family or land [or things we think we can’t do without] to follow Him, is worthy to be called His disciple.

What will I have when I stand before Him? I pray for renewed vision to see as God sees, and not as those about whom Jesus said, “Though seeing, they do not see; though hearing, they do not hear or understand.” I pray that is not me.

SANTA STEALS MY THUNDER!

Jul13

The clock was about to strike midnight. Everything was dark except for one small candle, and no sounds were heard unless you count the sweat running down a back. Even the scurry of possible mice wasn’t audible, and the falling snow outside muffled the sounds of any traffic that might be on the road. Everyone was in their “nightcaps,” in bed asleep. Finally, putting the last screw into the board and silently inserting the Phillips screwdriver, dad tightened the little dolly bed–wishing he could go crawl into his big one. There was still one more toy to be assembled and the gifts under the tree would be finished. The small Christmas plate that held a chocolate chip cookie beside a tall glass of milk was ready in its place. Dad glanced at his watch, hoping to get at least four hours of sleep before four excited children ran downstairs to see what Santa had left. He tried not to think about the money spent, the time lost in assembling toys, and just be happy that he had checked everything off their small lists.

Dad didn’t get grumpy, but as he finished his task he couldn’t help but think of the “glory” that “Santa” would get in the morning as his children saw their gifts! It’s quite unfair, he thought! They should know that he and their mom loved them far more than some “mystical” person who had attributes including flying all over the entire world in one night, delivering toys. They should get the credit for the toys! Why had they taught them this? But being tired, knowing his thoughts came from exhaustion, he put them aside, finished, and went to bed.

So, you ask, what’s the point? Every story should have a moral, right? Truthfully I’ve always hated the idea of Santa, simply because children in single parent homes are at the mercy of strangers who don’t know them, or Angel Tree gifts–which are great, of course, but how many children get nothing? How do they feel? Here it is, a hot July day, and I’m frustrating over Santa. Good grief.

My point is, often the true giver of our gifts is never recognized. How many wonderful things happen to us and we don’t stop to think where they came from? A narrow escape from a near-accident with the car; a visit from a friend; a kind word from a stranger? And have you ever thought about how many things would take off as ideas to be embellished or considered worthy of the masses if they were written in any book besides the Bible? James, chapter 1, tells us that “EVERY good and perfect gift comes down from the Father of Lights, in Whom there is no shadow of turning.” And we call it luck, chance, or being in the right place at the right time.

An illustration in point: I have missed my mom exceedingly these past several months. Not as the person she became in dementia, but as the person I talked to most of my life. She was, for sure, my best friend. Maybe she didn’t always understand me, but she loved me, just as she loved my sister to the end. I often ask God if He will tell her I said “Hello,” and maybe tell her how much I miss her, but that I’m so happy every time I think of her happiness in the presence of the Lord. (“To be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord.” 2 Corinthians 5:8) Two nights ago I dreamed of her–it seemed like a long dream. It wasn’t a dream of her body with dementia, but the person I had known. It was a GIFT from my loving heavenly Father almost like a visit. I woke, not feeling sad that she wasn’t there, but glad that I had had a time of being “with her” in her former state.

“Oh, that’s crazy,” you might say. We dream based on things that are happening in our lives. True. But this was a “good and perfect gift” of a visit with my mom. It was wonderful to hear her voice in the dream, and see her happy in whatever situation the dream held–I don’t even recall it. All I know is, my God gave me a time of remembering my mom so that I enjoyed her, and loved her.

I don’t want to attribute that to a “Santa-like” coincidence, chance, exhaustion, or anything else except the God who watches over me. Why should He not get credit for the great things He does for us?

Thank You, Father, for the gifts You give me.

Love, Your child.

LOVE IS A CHOICE…

Jun24

The news came suddenly: mothers started running to the nursery at church, grabbing their little ones, fear full-blown on their faces. It was a Tuesday morning in September, and what we were hearing was bits and pieces–something about an attack in New York. We were in central Virginia, many hours away from NY. One woman was trying to hold herself together, for her husband had a meeting that morning in NYC. She was desperately trying to reach him. My daughter and I left the nursery once the babies were all picked up and headed for a television in the church, where the news had interrupted regular programming. Everyone was shocked speechless, some crying, some stunned. Over the next hours I can so well remember my feeling: how can anyone hate America this much?

It is said that those of us who are old enough to remember when John Kennedy was shot, know exactly where we were when the news came, and it’s true. It’s also true we remember where we were when we first heard of the attack on the Twin Towers. These moments in our past will never fade.

Recently, I was reading a news article on a well-known American family who were blind-sided by a media attack, after news that they were not perfect was made to look like something the whole family should be executed for. I read some of the tweets under the article–something I never do. As I read the venom that poured out of people’s computers, I was once again struck by the hatred that was spewing forth. Stunned and sickened, I considered the truth that, had a Christian written those verbal attacks on a family of another religious persuasion, it probably would have been labeled a “hate crime,” and they would have been interrogated by the police. Such is our culture today. The hatred is becoming greater and greater.

Now we are watching Lincoln’s prophecy come to pass: America will never be destroyed by outside forces; when it falls, it will fall from decay within. How true his words are becoming! Having been raised in the mid 1900’s, I have seen the black/white racism from A to Z. Well, maybe not yet Z. It’s still heading there.

I was one of the fortunate ones growing up: my mom, a naive West Virginia “hillbilly,” never saw color, only character. She raised me to look at the person, not the color of their skin or the slant of their eyes. I remember in a Sunday night class in the early ’60’s making the remark, “I’d rather my daughter marry a Christian black man who worships the ground she walks on than a white man who beats and abuses her!” I can still remember the shock and disbelief on the faces of those die-hard Southern folks who sat in the chairs. Later, I was outspoken at Dr. Martin Luther King’s tactics, and recall saying, “I would do exactly what he’s doing if I thought my children and grandchildren were going to be treated the way most whites treat blacks.” I wasn’t popular for saying so.

Today we see the hate again becoming an issue between whites and blacks. Haven’t we gotten past this? Have we learned nothing from history? Strip away the skin and what do you have? God said He looks on the heart, not on the outward appearance. That, I have always believed, is why He chose a Jewish mother–so that He was neither white nor black, but of Middle-Eastern appearance. One pastor whom I love once said to me, “A lot of ‘Christians’ are going to be surprised when they see the human color of Jesus!” How true. What we need to be asking is, who is the one who is stirring up this hatred? There is someone who is at the bottom of all of it, I’m convinced.

There’s no excuse for hatred. It cannot be the heart condition of anyone who calls themselves Christian. If you hate someone because of the color of their skin, you are condemning someone made in the image of God. How sad. Sad that we treat brothers and sisters in the Lord as if they are less than we are. Sad that people of the world, whose morals equal that of Sodom & Gomorrah, condemn and judge as if they should be executed, those who are Christians but commit a sin, repent and seek healing. Hatred is a choice, just as love is a choice. As Jesus said, “If you don’t love your brother, whom you have seen, how can you love God, who you haven’t seen?”

Sin is a fact of life: Jesus tells us through John that if we say we have no sin, we lie and the truth (Jesus) is not in us. Once we accept that fact (that we have sin), we are accountable to God as to what we are going to do with it. Are we going to continue living with it, enjoy it, and judge others, or are we going to recognize our right to eternity in heaven depends on our asking forgiveness for what we do that is wrong, asking Jesus to come into our lives and save us–not that we will never sin again, but that we will have someone in our lives who has paid the debt of our sin–and run to Him when we sin again. That’s the difference between love and hate. Hate continues to hate. Love makes a choice to ask for forgiveness when sin rears its ugly head, be cleansed, and continue living with a happy heart, knowing He has forgiven again! That’s what the world does not understand, because their eyes are blind to God. That would scare me to death!

If I realized that the God who will one day be my Judge, whom I will stand before, as someone who has rejected the offer of salvation, if I KNEW that He had crossed me off His list, wiped me out of His Book of Life–it would scare me so badly I would run to Him, gasping for mercy.

Hell is not going to be a party. But stomping on the mercy, grace, and love of Jesus–when it was still a possibility in your life–is a choice only you can make. Before it’s too late.

IMPATIENCE: A LESSON IN JUDGING!

Apr20

Waking up, stretching, yawning… all of a sudden you ask yourself, “Where am I?!!” Then it all comes flooding back: the telephone call, the quick packing, the trip, and you’re waking in a motel room. You glance outside and see flowers. Everything looks beautiful. But something is missing. What is it? Then reality hits you: someone you loved has left the earth. You will leave here in a couple of days, and go back home, with only memories.

We’ve all gone through a similar experience, haven’t we? Perhaps not that, but close. I recall coming out of a Belk store many years ago (when my mind was sharp!!), and with all the Belk stores laid out the same, for a moment I had a true panic thought, ” What city am I in?!” Too much traveling, too much change, too quickly.

And so today I “wake up,” not having been asleep, but the fog from the concussion is leaving and I am able to function close to normal. Perhaps not at 100%, but enough that this page is now being written–the outcome of weeks when the mere thought was ‘too much.’ Been there? Overwhelmed by a thought of taking on a task? Yeah, me, too.

S0, congratulations! You are now back on track, you say. Who knows? Is there really a track? I know God showed me a lesson this morning, which is the first in weeks. Not that He hasn’t been there, just that I’ve been too far down to care. Does that shock you? Yes, Christians get there. Just like non-believers. Just like you, maybe.

And so God showed me a piece of my heart this morning: life has changed this year! Do you know there’s a “syndrome” for everything? Look up RHS–it’s a syndrome. I’m a victim. After a lifetime of being at home, raising kids, mowing yards, keeping the house clean, blah, blah, blah, my husband retired. (Retired Husband Syndrome). It should be RSS, because it can/is the same for husbands who have worked from home and then the wife retires. So far I have yet to meet someone who cannot relate, man or woman, when this happens. Love has nothing to do with it. Space has everything to do with it.

Suddenly, there’s someone in your space. You’ve been alone–or with kids–and were used to noises, and identified them mentally, and categorized them. Now it’s a new set of noises. There’s no “quiet time.” He says, “But I go to McDonald’s every morning for breakfast!” Sometimes he says he goes so he can have bacon, other times he says it’s to give me time when I’m by myself. Either way it’s the same, life is interrupted. Picky, picky, picky, you’re thinking. Your time will come. Believe me.

I notice so many changes, being with him constantly. He’s retired… that means no schedule, very few commitments, very few real responsibilities except of his own making. Yet his driving is beginning to create ulcers in my stomach. If someone is in front of him at the drive-thru window, move quickly. If the person at the red light doesn’t go, he fumes. Turn right on red, for crying out loud, it’s the rule in almost all states! I’d rather we took two cars.

I need to go to the post office; when? Who cares? Well, he just wants some idea. I don’t care, as long as it’s before 6 o’clock! Want to go to the gym? Sure? When? Who cares, you’re retired! No, Mr. Impatience wants a time. Why? I’m the one working!

He has taken over the grass cutting, which is good, since I began a hobby from home that has become a monster that is eating me alive. I want out. I dream of running away, but did it once and it created billions of problems I never want to see again. I dream of getting a job outside the home, but couldn’t make the pay I need. I just want out of my present dilemma and there are several ways it can happen. And so every day I beg God, please, let me out! I almost got out by death (that should have showed me right there He’s not ready for me), I’ll take terminal illness (would I really?), just GET ME OUT. And He hasn’t. Not yet. So my impatience grows and has become a tangible, breathing, living force in my life, driving down the joy, peace, and all that. All because I’ve gotten myself in a pickle I am helpless to get out of.

As I was pouring my first mug of coffee this morning, I suddenly saw my constant beseeching God to do something, and please, do it now, as the same type impatience my husband displays behind the wheel of the car. Other drivers are out of his control. My work is out of my control. He wants them to move NOW. I want God to fix my problem NOW. Don’t you hate it when God shows you your own heart? I do.

What to do? Everything. Confess that the things that are driving me up a wall with my husband are things that are in my own heart toward God. Realize my husband spent his whole life working for the money to let me stay home and raise kids–now he deserves his time. Trust God to move in a way that I will recognize is best when it happens. Trust Him that He has my back, and will give me strength. Trust Him that if He can SPEAK words–or THINK them–the world comes into being or a person is healed, then He can change my circumstances if it’s the best thing for me at this time. Trust—don’t fear. Perfect love casts out fear (I John 4:18), and FEAR IS TORMENT. Yikes, do we all know that?

Need encouragement? Go to http://www.trbc.org, and listen to the sermon for Sunday, April 19. Besides being a blessing on trust, you’ll hear Charles Billingsley sing “A Midnight Cry,” and yes, we’ll all be going home. Praise God–no more of this world’s garbage and impatience.

Father, You who loves me with a love I don’t understand, forgive my impatience as I beg You to lighten my load; give me strength for the race that is before me. Thank You for showing me that my impatience is no different than that of my husband, and no sin is greater than another–they’re all wrong in Your sight. Help me remember these lessons, Lord. And thank You for the resurrection power You’ve made available to all of us. Amen

TURN DISAPPOINTMENT INTO HOPE!

Mar10

The fish were nibbling at our bait as we stood in the Gulf. Almost every morning at dawn you could find my son and me standing knee deep in the surf, holding our rods quietly. In our shirt pockets–yes, alive and wiggly–were extra minnows. My son had developed a great throw with the heavily-weighted circular minnow net, and we would stop at one of the small pools where the little fish gathered, and I would watch, enthralled, while he did the intricate toss that resulted in our bait for the morning! Now we stood, hoping some hungry Redfish or maybe a Black Drum would decide to grab our hook. We lived on the Gulf, and it was a quiet time we both enjoyed.

Our favorite hours, though, were when we could work in an occasional trip to the long fishing pier that was an hour away. The wooden pier seemed to stretch a mile out into the ocean, and we would always go with high hopes. The fish were plentiful but the probability of getting one up onto the pier–or close enough to scoop into the net–was slim. The big ones had gotten large by being smart! They wrapped around the pilings and we would generally lose “hook, line, and sinker,” as well as the fish!

My husband knew our son loved to fish, and promised to take him to Canada for salmon fishing when he was twelve. Twelve came and went, and no trip was made. Over the next few years it became obvious that this promise was not going to be fulfilled. As my husband said, “There are some promises which are made, but shouldn’t have been.”

Our son could have turned his back on his father, as that trip was something he had looked forward to for a very long time, but he didn’t. He came to realize that life does not always contain victories, and all too often things we hope for, plan for, or try to accomplish are a disappointment. You probably know people who have had one too many let-downs, and have given up on someone they love. Or perhaps someone has hurt them once too often, and they’ve erased the name from their list of trustworthy friends.

Have you ever thought about the night before Jesus was crucified? He was eating with His twelve closest friends–although Judas was not a friend, and you have to accept that His brothers were not there either. These men had watched Him perform miracle after miracle, and had every hope of Jesus doing some amazing action that would end the tyranny of Rome over Israel. They must have felt as though everything they had envisioned was about to become a shipwreck. In a way, it’s no wonder that a few hours from that time the disciples fled. They were confused, bewildered, and possibly even angry. Peter definitely so, as he became abusive in his denial when he cursed the girl who said he had been with Jesus.

If you had been in the room with Him, having all your hopes pinned to a good ending, would you have given up after He was buried the next evening? In a way, perhaps that is what you have done now. Perhaps life has handed you some pretty rotten fruit, and you feel you didn’t deserve it–and you know that Jesus could have prevented it from happening. Have you given up on Him?

Hopefully you are like my son, who trusted his dad even when a broken promise that meant so much was not carried through. Hopefully you have the kind of trust in Christ that can say, “I’m at a loss to explain why so much bad is happening, but I know this: He is my father, and He loves me. If this is going on, it is because His purposes are far greater than I can understand.” You see, we want to know the “whys.” We want to know what He’s thinking, and doing, and why He chooses us for the trials. We want life to be pretty perfect. And it isn’t.

Don’t give up on Him because things haven’t gone your way. Because, one day, when you look back at the long path you’ve traveled, you’ll see that He did not leave you for a moment. Even when you were rebellious, away from Him, and living in sin, He still loved you–and always will.

These last three weeks have been a journey that could so easily have ended in death, if you read the last post. My head is beginning to spin a little less frequently, and clearer thoughts are coming. But I never once walked through these days alone, nor did I ask Him why He allowed me to fall. You know why? Because I trust Him–that’s why.

Lord, thank You for loving me, especially when I’m so unlovely. Forgive me for failing You, for failing to keep promises of being the type person I should be. Thank You for never giving up on me, for carrying me when I can’t walk, and being faithful. Thank You for the scars in Your hands, Jesus–they mean You took my place in death. Amen

SHE DIDN’T FEEL A THING…

Feb20

The cops were gentle with the victim’s family, assuring them over and over that their daughter had not realized the impact was coming, and had, in fact, felt nothing. I listened, but could not comprehend. How could they know this was true? How did the girl not feel that moment of death? And how can they equate it to a “twinkling of an eye”?

Well, yesterday I found out that their words are actually true. No, that isn’t my car–for those of you who know me. And I’m not dead, by the grace of God. Apparently He isn’t finished with me yet. But what I didn’t know yesterday, I know today. And what “the twinkling of an eye” meant to me two days ago, has a different meaning now. And if it’s any comfort to you and to anyone you know who has been told that someone “did not feel anything,” they are right. And that should bring great comfort.

I was walking on a treadmill, something I’ve done hundreds of times before. And yes, plenty of times I’ve lost a second where I have to double-step in order to be sure I haven’t gone back too far. Nothing you haven’t done, if you’ve ever been on a treadmill. This is no horror story–it’s just how quickly life can change.

I was at 3.5 mph, finishing the first mile when the person next to me spoke to me, breaking my concentration. I was on the treadmill, walking, one nanno-second, and the next I was on my back, several feet away. I was told that my head impacting the concrete floor was so loud that almost everyone in the gym heard it, as it sounded like a bowling ball had hit the floor. And because I didn’t die, I felt pain. But the result could have been so different, and has been for so many people. Yet the incomprehensible thing to me was that there was no time factor between being on the treadmill and laying on the ground.

Later, in the hospital, I realized what the people who try to give comfort to families of victims actually mean: that the victim really didn’t feel anything, Had I died on impact, I wouldn’t have had any realization of doing so–I just would have been in the next life. One breath in this life, normal, the next breath no longer in this life. That was an amazing truth. And how long did it take? For sure, the “twinkling of an eye.” I don’t ever remember anything in my life happening with such “speed”–and no pun is intended. One breath I’m in one place, the next breath I’m in another. That’s how death will be.

This isn’t meant to be gory, depressing, or yukky. This is a piece of comfort that I can now offer to others who have had a loved one killed instantly, and who have carried a weight that their family member suffered. No, don’t add that weight to your shoulders, you already have enough hurt just from having lost them. But if the cops tell you they didn’t suffer, believe them. They didn’t.

For me, today, there is much suffering. I have a concussion that feels like my head is a beach ball, and turning my eyes hurts. The impact was so hard that rather than a gash, there were “explosions” where the skin erupted in several places, all bleeding with that uncanny way the head has of doing it so much worse than almost any other part of your body. The sound of the staple gun is something that may take a while to forget, but eventually it will fade! My head feels like I’m on a merry-go-round, going 100 mph if I change positions. But I’m alive, and will be fine. That’s a blessing I can’t ignore.

But there’s another lesson as well, of course, and that is that life can end that quickly. What if I hadn’t made my peace with God? When someone stands before Him, will anger, bitterness, unfairness, unbelief be a reason for God to excuse them? No, and you know it full well. And if you don’t believe, will that change things? No, of course not. Because what if you’re wrong? What if there is a God? What if He is holding you responsible? As I’ve said before, there are no parties in hell.

Don’t wait for a nanno-second to separate you from this world before you get things right, ok?

Father, thank You for sparing me yesterday. Thank You for the lesson learned so that others can be comforted about loved ones who were unaware of their transition. Help me make my days useful, please Lord, and not waste my time here. Amen

REFLECTIONS OF REFLECTIONS!

Jan21

It was so easy to tell this was a house where Death had come. There were numerous cars lining the country driveway, most with out-of-state license plates. People were coming and going, obviously bringing food and seeking to help. The elderly man who had passed away was several states removed from the place of his birth.

Not long before the viewing on the evening before the funeral, the doorbell rang. On the stoop stood two middle-aged men, dressed nicely, wearing somber expressions. I looked at their faces, and immediately said “I don’t know who you are, but you are obviously near relatives of my father!” The resemblance was amazing, to be a generation removed.

It reminded me of a time when our youngest son was less than a year old. A visitor at church had dropped off his little daughter, and entered the sanctuary. After the service I heard someone greet him, and as he spoke, he added, “I don’t know anything about that baby boy in the nursery, but I can tell you, that was his father up in the choir!” He was right.

That type of comment makes one realize that as we go into the world, calling ourselves Christians, people look at us but do not know us at all. Yet when they see our face, can they tell that we belong to God? We should have such a close relationship to Him that it shows in our face. In Acts 4:13 Peter and John were preaching, and confounding many. Luke writes, “Now when they saw the boldness of Peter and John, and perceived that they were uneducated and untrained men, they marveled. And they realized that they [Peter and John] had been with Jesus.” The association was obvious in their faces.

Proverbs 13:20 reminds us how important it is that we choose our friends carefully: “He who walks with wise men will be wise, But the companion of fools will be destroyed.” It is our testimony and our reputation that is at stake when we run with fools. God is not glorified, and Christ is not honored. One apple, the Bible says, will rot the whole bag! One potato, left in that plastic bag on the floor, will soon ruin the good potatoes that it touched.

This new year has hardly begun, but it’s not too late to get a relationship with God back where it should be. If you’re afraid to set the alarm, pray that God will wake you 15 minutes early, so you can read His word before leaving for work. And when He does, since you have prayed, get up, get your coffee or Coke, and spend some time with Him.

The biggest thrill of your life should be that you hear someone say, “That man has to be a Christian–he looks just like what I’ve imagined Jesus to look like!” Wouldn’t that be something wonderful?

Father, You truly are our father. When we’ve had earthly dads who have disappointed us, we have sometimes given those attributes to You. Or when things didn’t go the way we thought, we blamed You. Help us to see through the pain and troubled times that You are a constant companion, loving and kind, doing the best for us. Help us spend so much time talking to You, Father, that we begin to look like You. In Christ Jesus, Amen