THE BLAME GAME!

Sep6

“I didn’t do it!” my child exclaimed when I called his name! Good grief, all I did was ‘holler’ for him! Parental thought: he has a guilty conscience… so I call again (against all rules of good parenting), “Come here!” I needed to source the reason for the comment. He stood in front of me, obviously wishing for a hole to open up. “What did you do?” “Nothing. Rachel did it.” Hmmm, interesting. A counselor could make the most of this situation, but contrary to a child’s opinion, mommy’s do not come with eyes in the back of their heads, nor the wisdom of Solomon. Ten minutes later I had my answer: he had broken a piece of Depression Glass, hidden it in a drawer, and added lying to the mix.

Having just kept a young, 7 year old grandson, there was no one for him to blame when things went off course. In fact, when I picked him up from school the first day of my testing period (I would have him the whole week… only grandmas can relate here), he hugged me, got in the car, and someone flipped the switch to “on.” I couldn’t find the “off” button the rest of the week. Women obviously are not the only ones who need to get 35,000 words spoken in one day: he managed in the first evening. I figured it was a result of being the next to youngest in a family of five children, and he was suffering from “undelivered speech.” As I was saying, he began our interaction with, “Grammy, I accidentally made Yellow today.” (Purple is best, then Green, Yellow needs work, Orange is bordering on a big problem, and Red is “call parents.”). How do you accidentally make Yellow? By the fault being someone else’s, of course. (By the way, between sermons, illustrations and reinforcing good behavior, he made green the second day and purple the next. WooHoo! Grandma’s have become wiser with age.) When he spoke, my mind went back to the forty billion times I had heard, “It’s her (his) fault” from his mom and his uncle–his mom’s brother, the breaker of the Depression Glass. The Blame Game. The truth is, the fruit falls pretty much straight down to the bottom of the tree, doesn’t it? I seem to remember saying “I didn’t do it” to my mom, and I had no one else to blame.

Lying about our guilt is pretty easy, isn’t it? I would love to see in your mind the thought that went circling through as to what you last did that you had to make an excuse for? (“I would have fixed the sink, but you wanted me to mow the yard..,” “I would have mowed the yard, but you wanted me to run to WalMart.” Our ways are a lot more subtle than saying “If you hadn’t told me you wanted me to go to WalMart, I would have had time to mow,” knowing that will 1) push a button, 2) start a “discussion” we don’t want, or…3-10,000) other reasons.

It’s easy to see why: we don’t want to accept responsibility for our actions. What is sickening is that we play the same game with our Heavenly Father! (“I would have gone to church this morning, but God, You know I had to work late, and I was so exhausted I just couldn’t get out of bed in time.”) One of my sons works graveyard, comes home on Sunday morning at 7, and by 8:15 is ready to leave for the early service. I’m so thankful he doesn’t say, “I’ve just gotten off work, Lord–You wouldn’t expect me to go to church, would You?”

If it makes you feel better–which it shouldn’t–Adam was the first to play this game, and he had the impertinence to say it right to the face of the Lord God! Genesis 3 relates the story of Adam as God calls him after he had eaten of the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil, then asks Adam if he ate of it. “The woman You gave me persuaded me to eat of it!” he excused himself. When Eve was asked, she answered, “The serpent deceived me, so I ate of it!” And so it started… The Blame Game.

When will we grow up enough to learn to admit our failures? Failure is going to happen–but admitting it to God and moving on is growth. Being upfront about our responsibility enables us to accept that we’re not perfect, we have times when we don’t do what we should, and we should not hesitate to admit it. (“Honey, I didn’t mow the yard because I took too long washing my car. I’m sorry. Will you forgive me?”) Life isn’t perfect, and we aren’t either! I love the verse that tells us that “God remembers our frame, that we are but dust!” I think there’s a whole person in my house if I could just get him/her all together…

Look for ways today that give you the opportunity to blame someone else and then see if you’re big enough to take responsibility! Adults have the Blame Game perfected–we’ve had time to practice since we were kids!

Father, please help us, even in our more mature years, to learn to take the responsibility we should when we have not acted in a responsible manner. Help us to acknowledge our guilt, and then put things behind us. Most of all, help us to love the one who has blamed us for having lost out on something in life they feel they deserved; and if we know someone has something against us, give us the courage to go to them and make it right. Amen

BURDENS TOO HEAVY TO CARRY

Aug23

Her wedding day! What joy, what wonder! She has kept herself pure and now the fulfillment of her dreams from a child through her youth and young adulthood is about to be a new reality. Can one do anything except be gloriously glad for her? Ahh, but there’s a thorn with every rose, isn’t there? Notwithstanding today’s horticulture, that was a truth that endured for centuries. Her thorn is that her precious momma, always there, always loving, never anything except the epitome of a great wife, a great mom, and a loving, generous person, contracted ALS two years ago, and can’t walk up the aisle tonight. She will be in a wheelchair, and has held on to life for this beautiful day. The day of wonder, but great sorrow–sorrow almost as great as death, for there has been nothing except a downhill spiral in health for her mom for two years. A disease worse than dementia, for the victim understands the pain being inflicted on their loved ones.

Have you noticed there is a growing desperation on all sides? It seems there is depression inherent in daily life like never before for most of this generation. Yes, there are a few left who can remember the “Great Depression,” but most of those are gone now. It seems we’re going through a new one–one for this generation.

And so we turn to God’s Holy Word for some reassurance, for comfort, and for hope. And here we find it! David, the great king of Israel, in spite of his sins, himself suffered depression as heavy as any we bear. In Psalm 77 we see immediately that he, in his life, was no different than we are in ours! He tells us that he was having troubles so great that no one could help, so he cried out to God, and God listened. How is that different from what we do? We may not pray a lot when things are going well, but oh, let trouble come, especially things too heavy to bear, and things we cannot control, and we turn to God! David said he would lay awake at night, complaining, and his spirit was so overwhelmed he could hardly stand it. In verse 4 he tells us that he couldn’t sleep, and was so troubled he couldn’t speak. Have you been there? Someone asks how you’re doing, and you don’t even feel like answering their question for fear of breaking completely down! Who wants to say “Fine!” when you’re on the bottom?

David goes on to say that he thinks back over better days, and remembers when he was happy. Now he feels deserted by God, completely cast off, and wonders if God is so angry with him that He has withdrawn His grace and mercy. Is that us? You?

But as David reflected, he began to make a choice to praise, rather than despair! He decided to consciously recall the great and mighty things God had done in his past, and in eternity past, as well. He retreated from the depression and began to list the goodness of God, and the great things He has done!

That is not easy when your soul feels as though you would rather cease living. It takes inner strength to make the choice to praise. God will give you that strength if you begin to reflect on His character, His attributes, His longsuffering, and His love!

The choice is never easy. Pilgrim, in Pilgrim’s Progress, fell into a Slough of Despond. He wallowed, but he got out. We may have a broken heart for some reason, but let’s make the choice to give it to God, the healer of broken hearts. Don’t try on your own–He’s as near as you will let Him come!

Father, thank You for Your wondrous love. Thank You for Your promise that You will never leave us, nor forsake us. You tell us to draw near to You–THEN You will draw near to us. Help us make that a conscious choice! Amen

FACADE…… OR FAITH?

Aug5

The smell of brewing coffee seemed to seep under the door to the hotel bedroom, enveloping the room in the ambiance of a European coffee shop, and even though I had had very little sleep, the odors pulled me from the warm covers toward the kitchenette. I didn’t even take time to get my glasses, without which nothing is clear.

The coffee pot was full, sitting on the counter next to the stove. But there–on the back burner–sat a full cup, and even though my husband had gone, his thoughtfulness in making me a cup of coffee, ready to drink, was just too sweet! I hoped it was still piping hot, and, picking it up, took a nice big “swig.” If you’re familiar with Jesus’ return, you’ll know the meaning of a “twinkling of an eye.” It took less than that to realize I had taken a nice gulp of grease (I won’t think about the “juice”) from the cooking hamburger the night before, when they had all had spaghetti & meatballs for supper–before I arrived. The turn from the stove to the sink about four feet behind me took even less time as I gagged, all my reflux actions in perfect working order. It wasn’t pretty.

Adding insult to injury, the grease, besides making me sick as a dog who eats grass, left a taste that HAD to come out of my mouth! So I grabbed a clean cup, looked quickly in the frig for a creamer, poured a good ‘dollop,’ and added the coffee from the hot pot. Aahhh. Taking a big swig of that should fix the taste in my mouth. It did. If you’ve been to Europe you’ll know that for every 5 oz. size cup, there’s enough coffee to grow hair on a bald man’s head. This made European coffee bland by comparison. Later, I learned my married daughter–not a coffee drinker–had made it for me, so pleased she could do something special for mom; in that situation, you read directions. One “scoop” of coffee in the filter per cup, for a 12 cup pot, is great if you have a scoop, but if you’re operating in a hotel suite, really, only tablespoons are available. So, just to be on the safe side, she “rounded” the spoonful, making each tablespoon probably equivalent to 2 scoops of coffee. Twenty four. Even in my sleep-deprived, grease-tasting state, I almost gagged again. Then, part of my brain (fried by the grease) said “dilute it,” while the major part of my brain went by forty years of habit, and rather than turning to the sink to add water, I did what I do at home: I added more coffee to my cup. By the point at which I had done this maybe four times, my caffeine overdose was taking effect, and I realized what I was doing. Also by then I was shaking so badly I couldn’t hold the cup anyway. Even my son (her brother), who drinks his very strong, came in rather soon after all this and filled his cup, only to spit it out in about a second flat yelling, “That’s the worst coffee I’ve ever had!” He took out the filter to make new, and there, in the filter, you could see a slight circle of white barely above the grounds. A filter full of grounds. Her good intentions were completely appreciated but I’m afraid the results were poured down the sink.

God doesn’t waste lessons with me. Immediately (as in once I had stopped shaking from the caffeine, and stopped gagging from the grease), I began to see the similarity to our Christian walk. As I’ve written before, (probably), we smile and send a big friendly handshake or wave to everyone we know as we go into church, or when we’re out in public. We talk like Mr. or Mrs. Super Christian before the world, but when God looks at us, as He did with the Pharisees, does He see the outside of the cup being clean and beautiful, but the inside being something He wants to gag out of His mouth? In the semi-darkness, with no glasses, the grease on the back burner passed for a clean cup of coffee! The relationship I had with the grease, as fast as it was, let me know I wanted nothing to do with what it held.

The same was true for the other cup, the one that could have been taken out by the spoonful, each added to a cup of hot water, and made a good cup of coffee (that’s what I actually did in Europe). But are we strong for other people, always trying to encourage them, display our efforts on their behalf, but inside have nothing that God wants to use? We have to ask ourselves these questions!

The Pharisees, as we say here in Virginia, “kinda, sorta, figured” that He was speaking of them when He pointed things out. Do you wonder, when you hear the pastor preach something that might possibly apply to you, if it really does? That’s probably the Holy Spirit.

And He’s probably saying, “This is for you. Listen. Learn. Apply.”

God, what a lesson! I’ll hate grease the rest of my life (whether I have much left, or not). Help me, please, to be sensitive to the lessons You have for me, so that I can be beautiful for You on the inside, so that You can use me in any small or big way to help someone who needs to know You better. I love You, Lord. Amen!

SO LITTLE TIME, SO MUCH TO DO…

Jul29

Ah, the feeling of crawling into bed, lights out, getting comfy between the covers, and realizing the day is over–you can really relax now. The nicest moment of the day!

Then comes the thoughts hitting the brain like little b-b’s: “It was a wasted day.” “I didn’t get anything important done.” “What did I do today that meant anything to anyone?” “Oh, shucks, I forgot to…” and so on. Myriads of things that could have been done, should have been done, but would you have fit them in?

For me, the wasted day theme hits me almost every night! As I lay there, I know I have worked–and worked hard for many hours. I have tidied the house (but there’s so much left to do!), … did I do anything else? .. ad nauseum. And then I realize, Paul himself said, it is only the things I do for Christ that counts (loose translation, Philippians 3), and I understand that my spirit is depressed because I felt there was no fruit in any of my labor. Do you ever feel like that?

If you desire above all things to hunger and thirst after righteousness, to be more Christ-like each day, then thinking that we have accomplished only the busy things that make up our lives leaves us as an open target for Satan to tell us we’ve wasted our day.

Do a self examination! I get (you’ll think I exaggerate) between 200-400 emails each day; the ones I respond to have the verse from Romans 1:20 after my signature: “ For since the creation of the world His invisible attributes are clearly seen, being understood by the things that are made, even His eternal power and Godhead, so that they are without excuse.” I take that for granted (that it is there), but what if it directs one person toward Christ? Did I sow or water? My blog address is also under my name on my emails: does that ever cause anyone to click on the blog and possibly wonder why I write? Does anyone ever wonder why I’m so amazed at His grace, at His goodness toward me, the chief of sinners (I was worse than Paul)? Was I kind in the many telephone calls that came in, and did I take the opportunity to tell the person at the other end, “I’ll pray for you to have a safe weekend”? Does God look upon my day as wasted, if just one person looks to Him? No, and my focus is wrong!

I need to be praying that my tiny little seeds will fall in a piece of fertile soil, so that someone else may come along and perhaps put a little water on them, and someone else may fertilize. I need to get my focus off myself and my “half a glass of water,” and realize Christ can make that water “living!”

I tend to forget that His POWER is what drives the universe, holds it together, but I still worry?? Then I am limiting Him to my own world. I pray He helps me remember that the same power that resurrected Him is in me, and I just need to put fears aside and keep on keeping on.

God, thank You for the power You have given to Your children to change the world. Grant the seeds that we plant turn into a crop that is a hundredfold! Thank You for the cross, Lord! Amen

One last thing, on an aside: I am getting many comments, and they are like reading the Amplified version of the Bible: for every word there are forty parentheses, etc., that leave me out in left field. If you ask a question and really desire an answer, know I’m trying to figure them out! I do remember to check Facebook about once every month or so (I’m telling you, time is not on my side!), so leave me a message there, and eventually I will get it! Either under “Love Notes” or Sandy Day. If you have negative comments, just keep them to yourself and remember your Grandma telling you, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything!” :~>

PUT IT ON? YES! PUT IT ON!!

Jul21

“Grace! Go put your dress on so we can leave for church! We’re going in five minutes!” She laid her book down, and headed for the stairs. This ritual was quite ordinary–almost every day was a trial as distractions come into her life at inappropriate times. At almost nine years old, looking six, she knew that to obey is important but her attention span needs upgrading.

Four minutes went by. Heading for the stairs, I wondered what I would find. There, having noticed a stuffed animal who was “lonely” she had sat to cuddle him a moment. Quietly thinking for a moment on how my mother would have handled the situation, I swiftly put her dress into my purse, hanging on my arm. “Come on, let’s go. We’re leaving.” I reached for her hand, and watched the horror in her face. “But I’m not dressed!” “I realize that. But you were told to put your dress on. We go through this every Sunday, and every school day. Today, you’re going in your pajamas. Let’s go.” Hopefully the shock going through her system at this point would be the valuable lesson I was striving for, as modesty and daintiness meant a lot to her. She still could not grasp that I would allow her to go to church in her pajamas. Had I gone crazy?

We walked to the car, piled in, buckled up and eventually pulled into the parking lot. The entire trip had been made with quiet tears running down her cheeks. Yes, it broke my heart, but I had to keep in mind the amount of time she had cost us over the years, waiting for her to get ready. Everyone got out of the car, except the two of us. I pulled her dress from my purse, and said, “Can you put it on now?” Her tears dried, the dress was on in thirty seconds, and a hard lesson had been learned. Maybe; only time would tell.

God was preparing my own heart to receive a lesson He had for me. I should have known. Not having been raised in an affectionate family, I have found it hard all my life to show physical love. I’m definitely a work in progress. I have struggled constantly with my lack of concern (love–see? I’m rationalizing) for my neighbors, those in my family with whom I have chasms, Christians at church who ignore me, and more. I thought I should feel love for them, no matter what. I know it’s a fruit of the Holy Spirit, so it should just BE there! Automatically, since the Holy Spirit has taken up residence in me! But I have fallen back on the excuse “I wasn’t raised like that” too many times for God to put up with it any longer.

Studying 2 Corinthians 13–the love chapter–in our Life Group at church (the new word for Sunday School), has been a struggle because I have been brought face to face with my lack of love in so many areas of my life. As we have studied, the act of giving our resources, going on mission trips, feeding the poor, ministering to the saints, even being a martyr, is counted as nothing in God’s eyes if we are not doing it with a heart of love–which I realize with all consciousness that I sadly lack in most cases. It has been a heartbreaking series for me.

God’s mercy is so amazing. Having read the Bible more times than I know, I’m familiar with putting on the armor of God, so that we can withstand Satan; put on “mercy”, even put on “Christ,” which is to take Him as Savior. But as I read Colossians a couple of days ago, it is not that He suddenly gave me a “shot” full of love, but what He did was direct my reading to chapter Three. As I read, verse 14 seemed to pop out at me: “PUT ON love!” It started taking root: “Put on.. clothes.. makeup…lipstick…armor…” it is an act of the will! It is a CHOICE. WooHoo!! He gave me my answer! My “lack” of love was not that I could not feel it because I had not been raised being loving, it was because I had not chosen it when a situation arose! Mind boggling! A stranger approaches: I have the option to smile with genuine love because that person was made by God, or I can choose to ignore them and go about my business! Perhaps this is elementary and redundant to you, but for me, it was the opening of a door, seeing into God’s presence. It was definitely a “Love Note!” It was more–it was as if I could see Him saying, “Good for you! You got it this time!” How long will it be before my “choice” is tested? Probably within a few hours!

Life has a way of testing to make sure the lesson took. Hopefully, I’ll never choose pajamas.

Oh Lord God–You are so unfailing in Your patience with me! Thank You for the lessons in everyday life, and for Your love. Thank You for Your nail-pierced hands, Lord. Help me never forget what You did for me. Amen

WHO? ME?? MAKE A BAD CHOICE? YOU’RE KIDDING, RIGHT?

Jul14

It happened to another person, many, many years ago. Someone so naive that sensual innuendos went straight over their head. Whatever someone told her, she would believe, even if they were evil. She had been taught to believe in people.

When the breaking point came, and she left her home, within days her life started crumbling. For the next few years she learned lessons each and every day about the trials in life, the liars in the world, the deception Satan has on people’s lives. But she had done what one must be so cautious in doing… she had burned her bridge and there was no going back.

The God she knew could have stopped the break; why didn’t He? So she blamed her parents for not stepping in, and keeping her from making wrong choices when just a young person. Finally she realized, they did what they had been taught–so it was the fault of her naive grandparents. Realizing they, too, probably were doing the best they knew how, she eventually worked her way back to God. It was His fault. He could have stopped her from ruining her life. He could have given her different parents, a more worldly mind, have made her less trusting. The anger against herself for her choices built. And built. Like a volcano, it was going to erupt. You hate yourself so much for making a choice that there is no way to fix.

Better to die than live with this much hate. Easy to do. Take two bottles of pills and it’s done. Only it wasn’t done. There’s one step lower than the bottom: when you have to look up to see the bottom. When someone finds you, and you live. You can’t even die.

In telling this to a person a year later, they had one remark. “You really hate God,” they said. “NO! I hate myself!” Their words were darts on a shield, deflected. A month later the radio was on, and the speaker was talking of hate. “No man hates himself,” he quoted, from Ephesians 5:29. “Wrong! You don’t know what you’re talking about!” It was 1978. The book lying nearby was a workbook from the Institute in Basic Life Principles, by Bill Gothard. The page fell open. There, in black and white, was written: “If you say you hate yourself, you don’t. You hate God.” God had to say it three times before she got it: her anger and hate was not against herself, it was against God. It broke her. She could not stand to think that the God who created such a beautiful world for us to enjoy was Someone she hated. Her repentance for her hatred was genuine. The amazing part? Suddenly a “bubble” surrounded her. You’ve read of children living in bubbles because of diseases? God put a “bubble” that was–had to be!–the unbelievable Holy Spirit, and love crushed her. For three weeks, she walked in a bubble of love, and could feel nothing, sense nothing, except the overwhelming power of God in her life. I was a changed person, for God loved me. I was no longer full of hate.

What did He teach me in all this? So many things: one, that He will NOT keep us from making choices that are far-reaching, life-changing, 100% bad, when we are determined to go against His will; two, His forgiveness is beyond anything we can imagine, but the consequences are there for life. We have to “forget those things that are behind [since we cannot change them], and press on toward” life; thirdly, there is always forgiveness for shutting Him out, for being angry, even for hating Him because you feel He’s destroyed your life–but you have to ask for it. Again, if you killed someone, they won’t be raised again in this lifetime, the ex-husband remarries, the judge’s sentence may have to be carried out in a jail, but that will all pass: His love and forgiveness will remain.

If you look closely at the picture, you will see the bubbles in the hands. We have to live in this world, but its standards, its influences, its definition, as our Life Group leader at church said yesterday, is not to stain us. Is that possible? Yes! But only through being plugged into the outlet of His power source, not our own. Through the power that He gave us when we became His child, we can do all things. But not without it. By accepting His gift of salvation, His power can change you!

Have a blessed week!

A THOUSAND YEARS? OR YESTERDAY?

Jul2

The chainsaw lay like a ghost from the past on the hardware store counter. The salesman shook his head. “When did you buy this?” he asked my husband. “Just a couple of years ago, I think,” was his reply. With today’s computer technology, the salesman decided to see if it was still under warranty. He could hardly keep from grinning. “Sir, you bought this in 2006.” Eight years, not a “couple.” When my husband arrived home, he asked me when we had bought the chainsaw (before showing me the new one). “A couple of years ago, I think,” I replied. Wrong. By a long shot. We must be having more fun than I thought.

We had a granddaughter born recently–or so it seems. How then, did she enter college last year, and is ready for her second year? And one left last week for the Army–but how? She was just, what? Eight? Ten, maybe? When did eighteen happen? I wasn’t ready for her to go, and I’m not having fun with her missing at Sunday dinner, or swimming in the pool, watching the younger ones!

People asked, “How long have you been married?” “Forever,” I reply. Well, it seems like it. But then no, it seems like yesterday that I ran into the house, tossed my books on the piano and sat down, learning Fugues and Canons and Symphonies–that was just yesterday, wasn’t it? Or a lifetime ago?

How can the little one in the picture be fixing a tie on a child? He was just born! I remember bringing him home, and my husband fixing hot dogs (which I hate) and canned green beans! I had checked a steak on the menu at the hospital! Wasn’t that yesterday? When did he become a father?

Going back to the little home place where my mother was reared, which my great-grandparents built, I see it setting like a memorial to them, perfect logs, a tiny 2 room home on a hillside in WV; time has stopped there. It’s a hundred and fifty years ago all over again–or is it today? With drones, and hackers, and threats to security? Am I having fun yet?

That was my mom in the image I just passed! No, for a split second I thought it was she, but suddenly I realized, that was me! But I’m twenty–or I feel from the inside looking out that I am! Where have the years gone? And I realize, that is the spirit that is within us, the same spirit that God explains when a day seems like a thousand years, and a thousand years a day. And I’m not sure which one I’ve lived yet.

So I have to bring my mind back to the basics; back to what is really important since I can’t control time: what am I doing for Jesus? Will anyone be in heaven because my journey here has been long or short? Worse, will someone be in hell because of my journey here? The thought breaks my heart in two.

Paul, through the Holy Spirit, tells us in Ephesians 5:15, 16, to “See then that you walk circumspectly, not as fools but as wise, redeeming the time, because the days are evil.” Let us be sure that we redeem this time, this vapor that is here today, and gone tomorrow. We can’t take one second back, but we can make them count. Or not. It’s up to us.

Lord Jesus, please help me make the most of the time I have, to pray fervently for those to be saved whom I love so dearly, and bring glory to You! Amen

THE GLORY OF CHILDREN………FATHER’S DAY

Jun14

Pizza sounded sooooo good! I had to decide: would it be worth it when it came back up? For nine months I had lost almost everything I had eaten, but this time–this time–I was giving in to my craving! So the pizza went down, every yummy, cheese-dripping, bite! And sure enough, within thirty minutes it was coming back.

Carrying this baby–and the future four–was an act of love, and I could hardly wait for her to get here. The agony of the birth itself, the long nine months when one goes from “normal” to waddling like a duck, the back aches, trying to get a good night’s sleep–all that was forgotten the second I held her in my arms. But. The glory of children is their Father. (Proverbs 17:6).

Not fair, Lord! We’re the one who feeds them, changes their stinky diapers, plays airplane with their food, remembers to write everything in the baby’s book, and smells like spit-up 24/7! We’re the ones who carry a two year old on one hip, a purse over one shoulder, a diaper bag over the other, and lug a twenty-pound car seat/carrier with the infant in it! But. The glory of children is their father.

The class stood at attention: some were Pilgrims, some were Indians, a few turkeys, and some had signs. Moms, for the most part, and tons of grandparents, were sitting as close to the front as possible, cameras flashing. The little one on the back row–the Indian–kept his head straight, looking at his teacher, but every thirty seconds he cut his eyes to the right. Finally, a light bulb was turned on in his face–his daddy had arrived to watch the program. The glory was reflected in his face. The glory of this child–my grandson–is his father.

Summer has come, and mom has to come up with tons of ideas as to how to keep the children occupied, especially during rainy days, when going outside is not even considered! Oh, the things we think of to do! Making tents over the dining room table, having lunch in the “campsite,” playing Hide and Seek. But waiting for that special moment when daddy comes home. The glory of children is their father.

A new car is needed now, one that will carry all the kids and all their gear, their musical instruments, and presents for parties, and mom becomes not only the nurse, the cook, maid, but now the chauffeur. But the glory of the children is their father.

God, how can this be?! We pour our souls into these children, we take care of every need, are You sure this is right? And He says, yes, it’s right. My Father is My Glory, and I want to be the Glory of your children, as well. And we say, “But God, what about all the homes where Dad has left, and Mom has to carry all the burden? He doesn’t even send money except when the courts make him!” And God says, he will answer for it, because I created him to be the glory of his children.

So–this week we honor fathers. Let’s make sure we honor those who go to work day after day, and bring home the money that takes care of a home for their wife and children; we honor those who are trying to keep America free by being willing to not only be deployed but also willing to die, if necessary, only being able to see their sweet babies on Father’s Day by way of a webcam; we honor those who try to make it to the school programs, the ball games, the concerts, and the camping trips. We honor those who are fathers in love and in deed.

And if, by circumstance, you are a mom who is role-playing the difficult task of being both a mom and dad, God Himself will give you grace and strength; teach them every moment that He has promised to be a Father to the Fatherless. And somehow, in all of it, He will get glory from your children.

HIS GRACE STILL AMAZES ME!!

Jun9

The car seemed to reverberate with my frustration: “I CAN’T go on like this! I CAN’T do this anymore! I’m burned out, don’t you understand?!” In my muffled sobbing, what could my husband say? He knew I was stressed to the max, but at this point, late last year, there was no solution. I felt like maybe God was not hearing my prayer.

We walked on into church–of course I got my halo out of the glove compartment and put it on!–and soon the service began. After a time of praise and worship, our pastor began his sermon. He had my full attention in any case, but God, just to be sure my mind wasn’t wandering, had him question, “When is the last time you said you CAN’T make it, that you CAN’T go on?” As he finished his sermon, I sat stunned. God, the Almighty Creator, had spoken through our pastor. I knew he had just spoken by the Holy Spirit directly to me, and that I could go on another day.

How does it feel when the pastor says something that seems as though he may have been in your car, under your bed, or in a room nearby? Do you heed the instruction, the rebuke, the encouragement? Or do you think perhaps it is a “Love Note” that God is sending to you?

Lest you think I believe myself to be anything except a sinner saved by grace, I will tell you the next chapter. Saturday was the culmination of a rough week, as in “No. 8” stress level. I run a large sales business out of my house, and have had to be concerned about the economy like many of you. Each week I have seen sales go down, lower and lower. It has seemed that I’ve been under more pressure over the past year that the previous five put together. I have prayed fervently–constantly! Finally, Saturday morning I got up, and there, on the computer, was a bunch of sales! I was ecstatic–until I started hunting the items that had sold, and could not find almost one-fourth of them!! I have to say, in all honesty, I felt betrayed! When my husband came in, I was sunk in the depths of despair. Being me, I gave vent to the incredible hurt I was feeling: “If I’m going to have to be so specific in praying, not only for sales, but for sales that actually end up being found, paid for, acceptable, and the customer happy, what good is praying? What if He doesn’t love me? What if I’m not saved? What kind of loving Father is that?” And on and on–never at a loss for words in my hurt and anger, I talked until it was all out.

My husband stepped up to the plate. He reminded me of my salvation, and tried to encourage me that the business could survive even if we needed to redirect some of the aspects of it. I did what I always do in order to escape the crushing reality of stress: I went to bed. I can sleep 20 out of 24 hours if I’m trying to escape.

Sunday morning (yesterday), with our pastor being out of the country, we sat down in the church, ready for the praise and worship and the sermon. But God. Don’t you love those words? But God had other plans. Turning to John 11, the preacher began to lead us through the death of Lazarus, Jesus’ beloved friend. Can you imagine? God, in the flesh, comes to the earth, and makes true friends! It’s hard to wrap your mind around that. But then Lazarus gets sick…so they send friends to Jesus, knowing He can heal the sick. He tells them, “It will be okay–I’ll be along.” When He does arrive, Lazarus has been dead and buried four days, and Mary, Martha, and their friends all have the same response: if you had been here, he wouldn’t have died. As the preacher said, “You would have been able to keep him from dying, but look, now he is dead, You can do nothing!” Despite His miracles, feeding the poor, raising the dead, walking on water, and so many others, now, they say, YOU can do nothing! No wonder Jesus wept! And the pastor continued, what has YOUR faith been up against this past week, or month, or whatever time period, when you say, “You are NOT able to help me now! You can do nothing about my situation! There’s no use praying any more, for You are not even caring enough to show up!” Can we look at the past, and look at the miracles He has provided in our lives, and still say, “You are unable or unwilling to fix my problem?”

Conviction was heavy upon me, and repentance was on the heels of it. I was so ashamed! I was truly of a “broken heart” (Psalm 51), that I had doubted that the Creator of the universe, who has acted on my behalf so many times, could do nothing for me. Or perhaps I should say “would.” Do I know what He’s doing in my business? No, I don’t–nor do I know what He’s doing in your life. That’s where TRUST comes in. Maybe He’s waiting “four days” so that others may see the glory of God! As we sing so often, “Never once did I ever walk alone! Never once did you leave me on my own! You are faithful, God, you are faithful!”

Do you believe that? I do. I was there. I was the one He was speaking to.

YESTERDAY’S—RECYCLED MOMENTS

May24

“Forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus!” Philippians 3:13b, 14

Attending a conference this week, I heard a speaker refer to moments that have been passed by, but not lived! What a stirring that has done in my spirit since his reference on Wednesday! Are you like me, with a life full of moments that come and go so quickly, yet you haven’t grasped them, and held on to them? The second I just lived, I will never live again. One second closer to eternity, to seeing God face to face. Do you ever wonder about the people who have treated Him with hatred, and suddenly are standing before Him?

Oh, if only we could recycle those unused, or thoughtless moments! A friend of ours, whose job involved building and handling guns and ammunition, got careless for a fraction of a second–just long enough for the weapon to misfire and render his right hand useless for the rest of his life. Just the twinkling of an eye, and doing something he had done hundreds of times, but that fraction of a second changed his life. Do you have those?

How many of the moments that we have lived could we have used to lead someone to the Savior? Once upon a time, there was a girl in my church who wanted to commit suicide. I prayed for her, but then told the Lord, “I can’t go to her house, but if You want me to speak to her, You will have to bring her to me.” I felt safe saying that, as we did not run in the same circles, so to speak. Later that very night I went into our local food store. As I rounded the check-out lanes, in front of me, not 30 feet, she was walking toward me. A divine appointment. Did I grasp the moment? I had to–I had asked God for that very thing.

Oh, that we could go back and re-live the bad choices! Have those moments back when we’ve really blown everything! Perhaps changed our lives and the lives of those we love by deciding to “do it my way,” as the old song said. But that’s not God’s plan for us. It is much bigger, and encompasses Grace, grace, marvelous grace. If we could re-live and fix mistakes, we wouldn’t need the grace; if we could do it right the first time, we wouldn’t need mercy and forgiveness. We wouldn’t need to “forget those things that are behind,” those things that Satan uses to browbeat us, trying to make us useless for God. But bless His Holy name, we can look forward to the things that are ahead, knowing that we can take the useless, unused, or messed up moments to Him, and He alone can recycle them–and we can press on toward the prize of being with Him in glory one day. Praise Him for His promise to return for us!