Over the year I collected together the things I feel I am failing...and here they are for me to, by God's grace, grow in this year.
Resolved to try:
To put my whole mind into whatever I am doing, as an act of worship to God. Therefore to be careful that whatever I am doing may be done whole-heartedly as worship to God.
To seek the Lord in quietness and solitude first thing every morning, that being with Him may color my outlook on life.
To refrain from speaking any ill of anyone not present and to confront only that person if there truly is an issue of character or obedience.
To keep a careful account of the Lord’s dealings with me and all that I learn of Him and to share His goodness with all who will listen.
To keep continually in mind God’s grace, truth and beauty in order to keep uglier things from dwelling there.
To learn as much as I can of God’s creation and praise Him for it.
To employ both time and money in seeking souls for the Lord.
To be bold to offer mercy, to speak of God, to speak truth, to love as Christ, but innocent of any evil or selfish ambition.
To be slow to promise, but swift to deliver, slow to speak, but swift to hear, slow to affirm or correct, but swift to love, slow to judge, but swift to forgive.
To consult the Lord and His wisdom constantly and to seek His answer fervently and without giving up.
To praise character, encourage holiness, focus on God’s grace as being the means of true beauty.
To rejoice always, pray unceasingly and always give thanks.
To never regard circumstances except in the light of God’s wisdom and Word.
To never be satisfied with anything less than perfection in myself, yet eager to regard attempt in others.
To never grow weary in doing what is right or compare myself to the world with envy or self-satisfaction.
To offer love and service without regard to “fair treatment,” “personal rights” or return of either.
To keep in mind the cross as my own just end and the picture of God’s wrath from which I am delivered and God’s love which paid the price. And to remember that, in the cross, I am delivered from God’s wrath and God’s justice is satisfied, therefore all that befalls me—even discipline which seems unpleasant for the moement--flows from His mercy, grace and love, lavished on a daughter.
To accept weakness as a tool of God’s strength and to be willing to be wholly dependent on Him.
To do what is right, regardless of results, rumors, rewards, remarks or revilings.
To keep perspective that God, the powerful Creator, Who alone is imperishable and dwells in unapproachable light, has granted me confident access to His throne of grace, that I might receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need, and to make full use of this access.
To never suggest, by my words or actions or thoughts, that I might be more righteous than God. For He does what is right and this is what I must trust, when He does what is different than I expect or wish.
Showing posts with label joy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label joy. Show all posts
Sunday, November 21, 2010
At the moment I feel:
Small, sad, hopeless, helpless, weak, confused, tired, disillusioned, empty, at a complete loss
But that’s okay, because He is:
Infinite in size, the source of joy, the Helper of those who trust in Him, perfect in strength, omniscient, never tiring, keeper of promises, overflowing with grace and entirely sovereign
I know I am not holy or godly or pure or good or kind or patient or loving. How well I know it! I know I am not humble or wise or discrete or perfect. How well I know it! But Jesus, the spotless Lamb is. Conform me to His image.
Small, sad, hopeless, helpless, weak, confused, tired, disillusioned, empty, at a complete loss
But that’s okay, because He is:
Infinite in size, the source of joy, the Helper of those who trust in Him, perfect in strength, omniscient, never tiring, keeper of promises, overflowing with grace and entirely sovereign
I know I am not holy or godly or pure or good or kind or patient or loving. How well I know it! I know I am not humble or wise or discrete or perfect. How well I know it! But Jesus, the spotless Lamb is. Conform me to His image.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Last night as I struggled against the insistent tears of hurt, I sat up in bed and told myself, “Abigail, don’t be silly. Suffering for doing what’s right might sound heroic and deserving of drama, but you’re losing sight of true suffering for what is right. Jesus suffered unlike you can ever imagine suffering and He learned obedience through the things which He suffered and has left us an example that we should follow in His footsteps. Which means it’s just what we should expect—all of us. And it works to teach us obedience. You are learning to be obedient to the Father and that’s just exactly a part of your Christian walk that you need work in.” Slowly, methodically I refuted my whining “Why did I get hurt? I didn’t deserve this” attitude. I reminded myself of my rebellion against God, my sin against His holiness and my utter helplessness to stand justified before God. Suddenly what I deserved came into focus like the slow turn of a camera lens: I deserve hell, utterly separated from God, hopeless, dark and agonized. It is only by His mercy that I am not a miserable, damned sinner. Perspective dampens the martyr’s tears and wells up within me the overwhelming joy. I am saved. From a horrible eternal existence without God. From exactly what I deserved. Jesus took the wrath that I deserved. Here I sit, moaning about something I didn’t deserve when He has left me that example. In that moment I knew that I was not suffering. My pain was healed. If the Lord of glory would rescue me from eternal punishment at the expense of Himself, He will do for me what is best. Why do I so lack trust and wallow in misery over things that should bring me joy? So, by His grace I did what was right. Do I suffer for it? Sheesh. Can it really be suffering if it is what God has allowed to teach me obedience? Obedience is only tested through the hard and painful things. Can it really be suffering if given from the loving hand of my Abba Father? Can it really be suffering when measured alongside the suffering of Christ?
Peter held it too much an honor to be crucified like his Lord and asked to be crucified upside down instead. Did he suffer for Christ? He said that suffering in the flesh helps us to forget our flesh and live instead for the will of God. That doesn’t sound to me like a tragedy, but a triumph.
I will learn to embrace the cross, the thorns, the nails if only they demonstrate that I am following the footsteps of Christ and will someday be like Him.
“For even if you should suffer for the sake of righteousness, you are blessed.” 1 Peter 3:14
Teach me, Lord, to measure pain
Alongside of my greater gain
The things that make me seek to hide
Drive me to Thy wounded side.
And there I place my hand and see
That Thou wast wounded more for me
And through Thy pain Thou learned to kneel.
So I will learn and Thou wilt heal.
Peter held it too much an honor to be crucified like his Lord and asked to be crucified upside down instead. Did he suffer for Christ? He said that suffering in the flesh helps us to forget our flesh and live instead for the will of God. That doesn’t sound to me like a tragedy, but a triumph.
I will learn to embrace the cross, the thorns, the nails if only they demonstrate that I am following the footsteps of Christ and will someday be like Him.
“For even if you should suffer for the sake of righteousness, you are blessed.” 1 Peter 3:14
Teach me, Lord, to measure pain
Alongside of my greater gain
The things that make me seek to hide
Drive me to Thy wounded side.
And there I place my hand and see
That Thou wast wounded more for me
And through Thy pain Thou learned to kneel.
So I will learn and Thou wilt heal.
Thursday, May 21, 2009
My mind has definitely switched back “on.” I think I’ve thought a million thoughts this week, but can’t remember a single thread of them.
A quick life update:
The Schriebers moved here from Illinois at the first of the month. Glenn and Papa met online several years ago and Glenn has steadily pursued a friendship with Papa, even traveling to visit and encourage us when we lived in Kansas. For several years now they have desired to move and be near us, but this was the first time they were able to sell their house and order things to allow for the move. They've always lived in the same vicinity--the adjustment for them will be huge! On our part, we are delighted to finally have church fellowship. As in any fellowship, we'll have to get used to each other and learn to prefer each other in honor.
“Of all things,” Josiah said sadly one day, bearing a dustpan into the kitchen, “I stepped on a bat.” The poor fluttermousse lay panting, his wings bent and his webbed tail spread out. He must have already lay expiring on the cold garage floor before Josiah’s bare foot discovered him. Perhaps it’s a hopeful sign that more of his kind linger in the nearby woods, ready to annihilate the army of gnats that has encompassed us. This valiant departed assailant had to be laid to rest in the woods shortly after supper, his last breath gone on the wings of time. This was shortly after our visit to the Mystic Caverns where we expressed our desire to have bats move in around our house to help with the insect overpopulation.
I finally sat down and sorted through a million things I'd stacked in my "think about when I get a chance" file. I worked through some of my fleshly cravings for fulfillment to be reminded of the truth that Jesus is all and does all good. I waded through some of the circumstances and issues that confused me a year ago and caught my breath at the perspective I saw--from just a year away. Circumstances are just circumstances. Sure, God allows them. But they bear little weight when measured against truth. And sometimes truth demands time to become more clear. For the first time in my life I am not confused. I think I am finally beginning to grasp the balance between true patience and my own supposed patience, true love and my supposed forebearance. True love is so hard--takes so much time and effort, seeking someone else's best interest through scripture, wisdom and kindness and seeking to base my actions on that--not simply saying what they desire to hear or giving what they want or doing what they want. It's painful--but nothing like the cross, the nails and God's rejection which Jesus suffered for me.
I was listening carefully to Papa’s voice one day as he read the expanded version of First John when the dive-bombing occurred. A mosquito-eater tumbled out of the sky and bounced onto the table, just inches from my Bible, then clumsily bobbled across the table and off the edge. His mission must have remained unfinished since he repeated the performance twice more before disappearing from the scene of conquest.
I finally got a tetanus booster, a week later for five dollars at the Health Department. My foot was entirely healed.
Lauryn got fish. I wish I could even retell the history of her tank of five finned friends and the dramatic disappearance of Pinky Tuscadero and Fred. Falsely accused, Hot Lips was detained in solitary confinement for further questioning until Fred reappeared. Thus began operation "rescue Pinky Tuscadero" which ended happily with Hot Lips being cleared and the whole family being reunited with joy and laughter.
We watched Miss Lauryn direct the Dtown Highschool Choirs--complete with choreography that screamed her name. She did a fabulous job. Is anyone surprised? She graduated with honors a few days later, along with Emily, Shoko, Donnie and Stacy. We spent the day either in bleachers or at parties--parties according the the believers here consist of prayer, encouragement, good food, praise and lots of love--well and sometimes some volleyball.
Originally I told Angela I'd help her photograph her friend's wedding. Then she agreed to become the wedding coordinator, which loaded her down with responsibilities. But it freed up her camera. In fact, I enjoyed our teamwork--I did all the photography, she did all the bossing.
It was about ten o'clock when Nathaniel called a very pregnant Lauren to ask for a ride. See, a group was playing "Fugitive" and Nathaniel, Donnie, Tommy and Dathan had worked out a perfect strategy for eluding the cops. Lauren and I hopped in the car. Well, actually, I hopped, she plumped. Being pregnant slows down activity and Lauren is VERY pregnant. As the four boys crowded into the back of my car I had one thing to say, "you guys smell amazing." Tommy's voice piped up, "What do you mean by amazing?" Folks, those guys normally have great hygiene--Tommy even reputedly smells "dewicious"--but that night they smell amazingly BAD. Their strategy paid off with a winning game!
Lately I've been blessed by April's company. In fact, we discovered that we wear the same size of clothes--she's just six inches taller. Sadly, she looks much cuter in my clothes than I do.
I've been following up on Christy's clients at the clinic. Sometimes as I open a file to decide what course of action to take next I am overwhelmed by the stark sadness in the notes she left--abuse, taking advantage, broken hearts, substance abuse, abortions, devastation. I closed files that were years old. For years Christy has faithfully waded through sad situation after sad situation. The Lord has been at work in my mind and heart--finally I am able to weep as I read a file, pray for that poor girl, close the file and walk away knowing that the Lord is the only One who can save--any of us.
Jess graduated highschool. Dathan had never met her, but he cheered the loudest. Even did a special cheer for her. Of course, he was cheering and shouting names for almost all the rest of the graduates. And clapping so widely he nearly smashed my face in. Without the least embarrassment. I was almost embarrassed, sitting next to him as he thoroughly enjoyed himself at a highschool graduation where he knew no one.
Papa is back at work, but has had weekends off so far! A huge blessing!
And just when the grass is growing more quickly than a child, all our lawnmowers decide to go on emergency medical leave. One is leaking oil. A blown gasket? One destroyed its own blade belt. Too much stress? And one has been in pieces in the barn all year. If we could find all the hardware for it underneath the Schriebers extra stuff that's being stored in it, we might put it back together and sell it.
It's a strange thing. I'd been exhausted for months, dragging myself out of bed each day, struggling to stay awake during Bible reading or prayer, going to sleep any time I sat down and sleeping hard. Lately I've rediscovered quiet time--alone time with Jesus. Perhaps it's just been emotional exhaustion that leaves me zapped. At any rate, I am at rest--with energy again. And thoroughly enjoying the Lord's lovingkindnesses.
A quick life update:
The Schriebers moved here from Illinois at the first of the month. Glenn and Papa met online several years ago and Glenn has steadily pursued a friendship with Papa, even traveling to visit and encourage us when we lived in Kansas. For several years now they have desired to move and be near us, but this was the first time they were able to sell their house and order things to allow for the move. They've always lived in the same vicinity--the adjustment for them will be huge! On our part, we are delighted to finally have church fellowship. As in any fellowship, we'll have to get used to each other and learn to prefer each other in honor.
“Of all things,” Josiah said sadly one day, bearing a dustpan into the kitchen, “I stepped on a bat.” The poor fluttermousse lay panting, his wings bent and his webbed tail spread out. He must have already lay expiring on the cold garage floor before Josiah’s bare foot discovered him. Perhaps it’s a hopeful sign that more of his kind linger in the nearby woods, ready to annihilate the army of gnats that has encompassed us. This valiant departed assailant had to be laid to rest in the woods shortly after supper, his last breath gone on the wings of time. This was shortly after our visit to the Mystic Caverns where we expressed our desire to have bats move in around our house to help with the insect overpopulation.
I finally sat down and sorted through a million things I'd stacked in my "think about when I get a chance" file. I worked through some of my fleshly cravings for fulfillment to be reminded of the truth that Jesus is all and does all good. I waded through some of the circumstances and issues that confused me a year ago and caught my breath at the perspective I saw--from just a year away. Circumstances are just circumstances. Sure, God allows them. But they bear little weight when measured against truth. And sometimes truth demands time to become more clear. For the first time in my life I am not confused. I think I am finally beginning to grasp the balance between true patience and my own supposed patience, true love and my supposed forebearance. True love is so hard--takes so much time and effort, seeking someone else's best interest through scripture, wisdom and kindness and seeking to base my actions on that--not simply saying what they desire to hear or giving what they want or doing what they want. It's painful--but nothing like the cross, the nails and God's rejection which Jesus suffered for me.
I was listening carefully to Papa’s voice one day as he read the expanded version of First John when the dive-bombing occurred. A mosquito-eater tumbled out of the sky and bounced onto the table, just inches from my Bible, then clumsily bobbled across the table and off the edge. His mission must have remained unfinished since he repeated the performance twice more before disappearing from the scene of conquest.
I finally got a tetanus booster, a week later for five dollars at the Health Department. My foot was entirely healed.
Lauryn got fish. I wish I could even retell the history of her tank of five finned friends and the dramatic disappearance of Pinky Tuscadero and Fred. Falsely accused, Hot Lips was detained in solitary confinement for further questioning until Fred reappeared. Thus began operation "rescue Pinky Tuscadero" which ended happily with Hot Lips being cleared and the whole family being reunited with joy and laughter.
We watched Miss Lauryn direct the Dtown Highschool Choirs--complete with choreography that screamed her name. She did a fabulous job. Is anyone surprised? She graduated with honors a few days later, along with Emily, Shoko, Donnie and Stacy. We spent the day either in bleachers or at parties--parties according the the believers here consist of prayer, encouragement, good food, praise and lots of love--well and sometimes some volleyball.
Originally I told Angela I'd help her photograph her friend's wedding. Then she agreed to become the wedding coordinator, which loaded her down with responsibilities. But it freed up her camera. In fact, I enjoyed our teamwork--I did all the photography, she did all the bossing.
It was about ten o'clock when Nathaniel called a very pregnant Lauren to ask for a ride. See, a group was playing "Fugitive" and Nathaniel, Donnie, Tommy and Dathan had worked out a perfect strategy for eluding the cops. Lauren and I hopped in the car. Well, actually, I hopped, she plumped. Being pregnant slows down activity and Lauren is VERY pregnant. As the four boys crowded into the back of my car I had one thing to say, "you guys smell amazing." Tommy's voice piped up, "What do you mean by amazing?" Folks, those guys normally have great hygiene--Tommy even reputedly smells "dewicious"--but that night they smell amazingly BAD. Their strategy paid off with a winning game!
Lately I've been blessed by April's company. In fact, we discovered that we wear the same size of clothes--she's just six inches taller. Sadly, she looks much cuter in my clothes than I do.
I've been following up on Christy's clients at the clinic. Sometimes as I open a file to decide what course of action to take next I am overwhelmed by the stark sadness in the notes she left--abuse, taking advantage, broken hearts, substance abuse, abortions, devastation. I closed files that were years old. For years Christy has faithfully waded through sad situation after sad situation. The Lord has been at work in my mind and heart--finally I am able to weep as I read a file, pray for that poor girl, close the file and walk away knowing that the Lord is the only One who can save--any of us.
Jess graduated highschool. Dathan had never met her, but he cheered the loudest. Even did a special cheer for her. Of course, he was cheering and shouting names for almost all the rest of the graduates. And clapping so widely he nearly smashed my face in. Without the least embarrassment. I was almost embarrassed, sitting next to him as he thoroughly enjoyed himself at a highschool graduation where he knew no one.
Papa is back at work, but has had weekends off so far! A huge blessing!
And just when the grass is growing more quickly than a child, all our lawnmowers decide to go on emergency medical leave. One is leaking oil. A blown gasket? One destroyed its own blade belt. Too much stress? And one has been in pieces in the barn all year. If we could find all the hardware for it underneath the Schriebers extra stuff that's being stored in it, we might put it back together and sell it.
It's a strange thing. I'd been exhausted for months, dragging myself out of bed each day, struggling to stay awake during Bible reading or prayer, going to sleep any time I sat down and sleeping hard. Lately I've rediscovered quiet time--alone time with Jesus. Perhaps it's just been emotional exhaustion that leaves me zapped. At any rate, I am at rest--with energy again. And thoroughly enjoying the Lord's lovingkindnesses.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
I had a dream. In my dream, white and black walked side by side.
Not racial equality. A bride and groom.
Actually, the dream began with me asking Lin N if she’d mind a little matchmaking. I knew a guy I thought would be perfect for her. Could I give him her number? She assented. And I did. And they got married. And I sang at their wedding. Then I awoke and, behold, it was a dream.
A couple of days later, Emily sat patiently by, chatting with me as I labored on a jacket-dress. “How’s Lindsey?” I asked. Because I hadn’t talked to her in some time. In fact, the last time I’d talked to Lin N she’d been sharing how the Lord was working in her heart to desire to become a homemaking wife and mother and how she was loving cooking and how she had her school debt almost paid off and how she was content in the Lord. A very good time to keep track of a girl, if you ask me. “Fine,” Emily answered, which is what she always said.
And then the funniest thing happened. I never intended to tell anyone about that dream, but I opened my mouth to say something and it toppled right out. “I had the weirdest dream about Lindsey.” When I finished, Emily gave me a funny smile. “That is funny,” she said. “Did you know who the guy was?”
Ah. Yes. Who the guy was.
Indeed I did.
“It was Tim.”
Then her face became a study in comedy. “Was that just out of the blue?” A million thoughts raced through my mind before I answered, “Maybe not entirely. I might have thought of it before.” Because I had. Lin N and Tim were in the same general vicinity. But they didn’t really know each other. But they should. They really should get to know each other well.
“Can I tell Lindsey?” Emily asked me, and my mouth must have hit the floor. That seemed like a stupid thing to do. Tell Lin N? Like she needed any distractions. “If you think she’d find it funny.” Emily snickered, “Yeah. I think she’d find it really funny.”
That night my conscience hurt worse than a stomach with too much wedding cake. How indiscreet. I shouldn’t ever have told Emily. And I shouldn’t have let her tell Lindsey. Embarrassed, I called Emily to apologize. “It’s fine,” she assured me. “Really, it’s fine.”
Then my mind went clackety-clacking. So did several others. For real, it was fine?
Today a letter arrived in the mail. A letter signed by both Tim and Lin N. A letter informing their friends that they'd decided to share their lives. With each other. Emily and Bruce were the sole confidants. Everyone else was awash in amazement. Well, I wasn’t exactly awash in amazement. Surprised, yes, that it had happened so fast and so secretly. But delighted. I don’t think I’ve been this excited since…well, maybe since Tabby and Cliff became engaged. I called Lin N. only to discover that I didn’t have anything to say. Mostly we giggled.
Lin N. has always inspired me with her passion for truth, her hungry heart for obedience and her unflinching standards of modesty and purity. God demonstrates Himself strong in her life and testimony, turning her into a woman who fears Him and is worthy of praise. And Tim is a gentleman, a man of integrity and a sincere seeker of the Lord.
I suppose we could all say this is a dream come true?
Not racial equality. A bride and groom.
Actually, the dream began with me asking Lin N if she’d mind a little matchmaking. I knew a guy I thought would be perfect for her. Could I give him her number? She assented. And I did. And they got married. And I sang at their wedding. Then I awoke and, behold, it was a dream.
A couple of days later, Emily sat patiently by, chatting with me as I labored on a jacket-dress. “How’s Lindsey?” I asked. Because I hadn’t talked to her in some time. In fact, the last time I’d talked to Lin N she’d been sharing how the Lord was working in her heart to desire to become a homemaking wife and mother and how she was loving cooking and how she had her school debt almost paid off and how she was content in the Lord. A very good time to keep track of a girl, if you ask me. “Fine,” Emily answered, which is what she always said.
And then the funniest thing happened. I never intended to tell anyone about that dream, but I opened my mouth to say something and it toppled right out. “I had the weirdest dream about Lindsey.” When I finished, Emily gave me a funny smile. “That is funny,” she said. “Did you know who the guy was?”
Ah. Yes. Who the guy was.
Indeed I did.
“It was Tim.”
Then her face became a study in comedy. “Was that just out of the blue?” A million thoughts raced through my mind before I answered, “Maybe not entirely. I might have thought of it before.” Because I had. Lin N and Tim were in the same general vicinity. But they didn’t really know each other. But they should. They really should get to know each other well.
“Can I tell Lindsey?” Emily asked me, and my mouth must have hit the floor. That seemed like a stupid thing to do. Tell Lin N? Like she needed any distractions. “If you think she’d find it funny.” Emily snickered, “Yeah. I think she’d find it really funny.”
That night my conscience hurt worse than a stomach with too much wedding cake. How indiscreet. I shouldn’t ever have told Emily. And I shouldn’t have let her tell Lindsey. Embarrassed, I called Emily to apologize. “It’s fine,” she assured me. “Really, it’s fine.”
Then my mind went clackety-clacking. So did several others. For real, it was fine?
Today a letter arrived in the mail. A letter signed by both Tim and Lin N. A letter informing their friends that they'd decided to share their lives. With each other. Emily and Bruce were the sole confidants. Everyone else was awash in amazement. Well, I wasn’t exactly awash in amazement. Surprised, yes, that it had happened so fast and so secretly. But delighted. I don’t think I’ve been this excited since…well, maybe since Tabby and Cliff became engaged. I called Lin N. only to discover that I didn’t have anything to say. Mostly we giggled.
Lin N. has always inspired me with her passion for truth, her hungry heart for obedience and her unflinching standards of modesty and purity. God demonstrates Himself strong in her life and testimony, turning her into a woman who fears Him and is worthy of praise. And Tim is a gentleman, a man of integrity and a sincere seeker of the Lord.
I suppose we could all say this is a dream come true?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
All day long, everyone kept asking why I was so goofy. On the level, I didn’t think I was being silly at all. I was just enjoying life. I woke up this morning knowing without a doubt that Yahweh is in control, that He has blessed me with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places in Christ, that I am His daughter and that He will conform me to the image of His beloved Son. Gurus advocate meditation for a sense of well-being. I can’t imagine what they could meditate on that would boost them like knowing the Author of the Universe—and calling Him “Abba.”
Josiah and I made the trek to our namesake town, looking at a property for Glenn’s family. I’m afraid to say anything after the last attempt. I didn’t like the last property at all, but I’ve never seen where they live or what they’ve worked with in the past and I’m a poor hand at construction. Please limit me to screwing screws or destroying sheetrock. Or sanding. There’s nothing to be destroyed sanding. This house seemed much more inviting and certainly better cared for. Dutifully, we took pictures and notes and will offer our observations to those wiser than we. The most delightful event of the trip was a quaint bridge we crossed on our way. Josiah is a perfect companion for me, since he is always more than willing to stop and take pictures. Except, he likes to take pictures, which means he wants to use my camera and force me to be the model.
The ever increasing disorder in the back rooms at the clinic is going to finally drive me over the edge. After spending several hours working on tangled paperwork, a client finally showed up for her appointment. “She’s here to see you,” Linda handed me her file. “Uh, yeah,” I answered, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” We scurried to a back room before I blurted out, “She’s here for a follow-up and ultrasound, there weren’t any issues—what am I supposed to talk to her about?” We had excellent, thorough training on dealing with tough issues, but I found myself panicking as I realized I didn’t know what to do when everything was smooth sailing. Thankfully, that simply meant a short visit, the ultrasound and then passing her down to a mentor. Which left me plenty of time to begin to feel trapped in a kitchen littered with random items. “Look, Josiah!” I exclaimed, opening the refrigerator door. “At least we could keep all the soda cans in one place, don’t you think?” He was sanding the ceiling tile he and Donnie had patched and looked at least forty years older, covered in sheetrock dust as he laughingly answered, “You sound like Papa.” As they rounded up purses and coats at seven-thirty, the ladies found me sitting on the kitchen counter, cleaning out cabinets and consolidating. Becki sat down in a chair laughing at me, which I found rather uncharitable. “Girl, you’re crazy!” Of course, she can vanish into her tidy, little office any time the piles of the undone grow too daunting. Bonnie just giggled, “Have you been eating goofy pills?” Actually, I did have two hamburgers for lunch. Perhaps that was the problem. But someday I’m going to get that place spit-shined clean. It just may be someday a very long time in the future.
Emily had a “surprise” for me, on our way home. Thank you notes from her classroom of second-graders. It wasn’t hard to tell which story was the favorite, thanks to the pictures at the top of each page. “The Little Red Hen” hands down. Emily was embarrassed as she pointed to a letter at the bottom of the pile. “He asked me for a third sheet, and I told him to write on the back. He said he already had. It’s…well, he’s a little odd.” She proceeded to read me a lengthy, rambling letter in which this young man professed over and over that I was the nicest teacher ever and he hoped I would never die. Emily found it embarrassing, but I think it sure beats being told I’m silly.
Josiah and I made the trek to our namesake town, looking at a property for Glenn’s family. I’m afraid to say anything after the last attempt. I didn’t like the last property at all, but I’ve never seen where they live or what they’ve worked with in the past and I’m a poor hand at construction. Please limit me to screwing screws or destroying sheetrock. Or sanding. There’s nothing to be destroyed sanding. This house seemed much more inviting and certainly better cared for. Dutifully, we took pictures and notes and will offer our observations to those wiser than we. The most delightful event of the trip was a quaint bridge we crossed on our way. Josiah is a perfect companion for me, since he is always more than willing to stop and take pictures. Except, he likes to take pictures, which means he wants to use my camera and force me to be the model.
The ever increasing disorder in the back rooms at the clinic is going to finally drive me over the edge. After spending several hours working on tangled paperwork, a client finally showed up for her appointment. “She’s here to see you,” Linda handed me her file. “Uh, yeah,” I answered, “Can I talk to you for a minute?” We scurried to a back room before I blurted out, “She’s here for a follow-up and ultrasound, there weren’t any issues—what am I supposed to talk to her about?” We had excellent, thorough training on dealing with tough issues, but I found myself panicking as I realized I didn’t know what to do when everything was smooth sailing. Thankfully, that simply meant a short visit, the ultrasound and then passing her down to a mentor. Which left me plenty of time to begin to feel trapped in a kitchen littered with random items. “Look, Josiah!” I exclaimed, opening the refrigerator door. “At least we could keep all the soda cans in one place, don’t you think?” He was sanding the ceiling tile he and Donnie had patched and looked at least forty years older, covered in sheetrock dust as he laughingly answered, “You sound like Papa.” As they rounded up purses and coats at seven-thirty, the ladies found me sitting on the kitchen counter, cleaning out cabinets and consolidating. Becki sat down in a chair laughing at me, which I found rather uncharitable. “Girl, you’re crazy!” Of course, she can vanish into her tidy, little office any time the piles of the undone grow too daunting. Bonnie just giggled, “Have you been eating goofy pills?” Actually, I did have two hamburgers for lunch. Perhaps that was the problem. But someday I’m going to get that place spit-shined clean. It just may be someday a very long time in the future.
Emily had a “surprise” for me, on our way home. Thank you notes from her classroom of second-graders. It wasn’t hard to tell which story was the favorite, thanks to the pictures at the top of each page. “The Little Red Hen” hands down. Emily was embarrassed as she pointed to a letter at the bottom of the pile. “He asked me for a third sheet, and I told him to write on the back. He said he already had. It’s…well, he’s a little odd.” She proceeded to read me a lengthy, rambling letter in which this young man professed over and over that I was the nicest teacher ever and he hoped I would never die. Emily found it embarrassing, but I think it sure beats being told I’m silly.
Thursday, December 18, 2008
“Hello, I’m hangin’ on your every word, you know…” My cell-phone sang and I wriggled into a more convenient corner of the dressing room. Rustling yards of shimmering, white material out of the way, I found my phone and answered. “Are you busy?” April asked me and a spark of mischief ignited within. “I’m just…well…trying on wedding dresses.” Silence. Then, “I’m not sure I heard you right…did you say you’re trying on wedding dresses?” “Uh,” I answered, doing my best to sound hesitant. “Yeah.” Silence again. Then, “Am I allowed to ask questions?” I laughed. “Sure,” I answered. “I’m trying on wedding dresses for a friend who’s getting married.” Then came her long, relieved, “Oh.”
I arrived at Choices just as Becky and April were preparing to pray. Hardly late at all. Apparently April had related my prank. Becky was disappointed I didn’t come dolled up. And then began the task of training April. Nobody told me that everyone else would be gone, so I found myself solely responsible for her behavior. April can be very difficult to control, but today she proved to be so nervous about getting everything right that she behaved beautifully. It was an odd mix of my two worlds—campus meets crisis. “When the phone rings,” I began and was promptly cut off by the obliging phone. “Here, you answer it.” Her big, brown eyes grew even bigger as she stared at me. “Are you serious?” I grinned. “Yes, you’ll be fine.” I didn’t point out that we have caller ID and I could see that it was a familiar person—in fact, one who knew April. Reluctantly she reached out and lifted the received. “Choices, this is April.” “Hello,” the voice came over the other end. “Can I talk to Abigail?” She practically shoved the phone down my throat in her eagerness to be rid of it. And I thought I hated phones. April will make an excellent mentor or receptionist as soon as she realizes how capable and perfect she is for the job.
Three o’clock rolled around and we waved good-bye to the little, tan house. This is the last time I’ll work the front desk or run copies or answer the phone in two-thousand and eight. Who knows what I’ll be doing when I come back next year?
It’s the end of the year and I’m not sure what to read these days. In thinking of the upcoming celebration of Jesus’ Advent (“It means coming,” Papa says. “Why don’t they just call it His coming?”) I turned to Isaiah for some of the most sadly beautiful prophecies of the Savior. Chapter fifty-three is always one of my favorites, because I am not so unlike the rest of those who hope in Jesus—and this chapter is so full of hope—through pain. “Surely our griefs He bore and our sorrows He carried.” But we didn’t get it. We thought God was punishing Him—and He was, but for our sin! Like a whipping boy of ancient times, “the chastening for our well-being fell on Him and by His stripes we are healed. All of us have gone astray like sheep, but Yahweh has caused our iniquity to fall on Him.” Then the contrast between us, who went astray like stupid sheep and Jesus, who was the perfect sacrifice lamb, silent before His accusers. Because, had He answered them and purchased His own life, ours would have been forfeit. Instead, He is allotted a portion with the great because he poured our Himself to death, He bore the sins of many and interceded for sinners. In the gospel—Jesus—we see the culmination of God’s eternal plot and the story He plays out again and again through history, past, present and future: first the cross and then the crown. Even Jesus had to learn obedience through the things He suffered. Yahweh was pleased to crush Him as an offering, but as a result, Yahweh will see it and be satisfied. Often it seems we are called to suffer as well. When I cry out for answers why, I am brought to my knees at the foot of the cross. For God’s glory, is the answer, and for my good. I will learn obedience through the things I suffer. Because of Jesus suffering, I was justified. My own suffering works for my sanctification. And always, always, Jesus stands by me, having born more pain and anguish than any human ever could. He is my perfect Comforter.
Lord, I always seek relief
When I should seek renewed belief
That Thou art good and doest good
Whatever I misunderstood.
Thy Son, who bore our grief and shame
Learned to rejoice in through hellish pain
By fixing His own eyes on Thee
And pressing toward eternity.
I arrived at Choices just as Becky and April were preparing to pray. Hardly late at all. Apparently April had related my prank. Becky was disappointed I didn’t come dolled up. And then began the task of training April. Nobody told me that everyone else would be gone, so I found myself solely responsible for her behavior. April can be very difficult to control, but today she proved to be so nervous about getting everything right that she behaved beautifully. It was an odd mix of my two worlds—campus meets crisis. “When the phone rings,” I began and was promptly cut off by the obliging phone. “Here, you answer it.” Her big, brown eyes grew even bigger as she stared at me. “Are you serious?” I grinned. “Yes, you’ll be fine.” I didn’t point out that we have caller ID and I could see that it was a familiar person—in fact, one who knew April. Reluctantly she reached out and lifted the received. “Choices, this is April.” “Hello,” the voice came over the other end. “Can I talk to Abigail?” She practically shoved the phone down my throat in her eagerness to be rid of it. And I thought I hated phones. April will make an excellent mentor or receptionist as soon as she realizes how capable and perfect she is for the job.
Three o’clock rolled around and we waved good-bye to the little, tan house. This is the last time I’ll work the front desk or run copies or answer the phone in two-thousand and eight. Who knows what I’ll be doing when I come back next year?
It’s the end of the year and I’m not sure what to read these days. In thinking of the upcoming celebration of Jesus’ Advent (“It means coming,” Papa says. “Why don’t they just call it His coming?”) I turned to Isaiah for some of the most sadly beautiful prophecies of the Savior. Chapter fifty-three is always one of my favorites, because I am not so unlike the rest of those who hope in Jesus—and this chapter is so full of hope—through pain. “Surely our griefs He bore and our sorrows He carried.” But we didn’t get it. We thought God was punishing Him—and He was, but for our sin! Like a whipping boy of ancient times, “the chastening for our well-being fell on Him and by His stripes we are healed. All of us have gone astray like sheep, but Yahweh has caused our iniquity to fall on Him.” Then the contrast between us, who went astray like stupid sheep and Jesus, who was the perfect sacrifice lamb, silent before His accusers. Because, had He answered them and purchased His own life, ours would have been forfeit. Instead, He is allotted a portion with the great because he poured our Himself to death, He bore the sins of many and interceded for sinners. In the gospel—Jesus—we see the culmination of God’s eternal plot and the story He plays out again and again through history, past, present and future: first the cross and then the crown. Even Jesus had to learn obedience through the things He suffered. Yahweh was pleased to crush Him as an offering, but as a result, Yahweh will see it and be satisfied. Often it seems we are called to suffer as well. When I cry out for answers why, I am brought to my knees at the foot of the cross. For God’s glory, is the answer, and for my good. I will learn obedience through the things I suffer. Because of Jesus suffering, I was justified. My own suffering works for my sanctification. And always, always, Jesus stands by me, having born more pain and anguish than any human ever could. He is my perfect Comforter.
Lord, I always seek relief
When I should seek renewed belief
That Thou art good and doest good
Whatever I misunderstood.
Thy Son, who bore our grief and shame
Learned to rejoice in through hellish pain
By fixing His own eyes on Thee
And pressing toward eternity.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Burning sun scorches down on a weary child, decked in the armor of a warrior, wielding a mighty sword. Weeping, struggling to survive, crying out for help she watches as the mighty antagonist swings his murderous weapon. On her knees, with her face to the earth and her mind in heaven, she cannot be struck down. Her victor stands over her and destroys the enemy. That was me not so long ago. I fought. I bled. I wept. I prayed. And Jesus, Son of Almighty God, stood by my side and captured the victory. Ah, but the victory had no sooner been sealed than another foe from behind struck me a blow and I wheeled, blood and bile filling my mouth, my world reeling and crashing around me. I dropped my sword. My plea for help died on my lips and I watched as he struck me again—foul fiend. And again. And again. And battered me to the ground where I lay, eyes wide and staring, soul fluttering inside like a trapped moth, spirit dead. And I did not rise. The weight of defeat and darkness spread over my body like a paralysis and left me empty of everything but despair.
To rise again was too painful. To call for help required me to muster my voice. To grip my sword begged my intense concentration. Instead I lay broken and bleeding.
Until yesterday.
As I cleaned the neighbor’s house, the dam inside trembled. I hadn’t wept since the day the Lord had worked in two hearts for an outcome I thought was right. It seemed we’d won. A couple of days later my dreams crumbled when those for whom I'd prayed rejected what had happened and walked their own way. I was too weak from the battle. Used up. Empty. I sank to the ground and never rose.
Until yesterday.
Josiah came to join me and read me a rap song he’d just written. “Is it encouraging?” I asked him. “I need something encouraging.” Then the dam broke and the flood rushed through and down my face, burning my eyes and cutting paths in my cheeks. The tears started and wouldn’t stop. I spilled frustrations, discouragement, anger, doubt, confusion, helplessness. Some to Josiah, some only to the Lord.
And I cried for help. I pleaded for mercy. I begged to be raised from the dead.
Josiah went outside with my phone and I know he called Nathaniel. I finished cleaning alone, weeping, praying, whispering, pleading. Like a person rising from the dead, casting off the burial clothes, free to walk again, to stand again, to see again, to speak again. Free to love again. To feel again. To hope again. To ask again.
Yesterday the Lord picked me up off the battlefield, wounded, bleading and broken-hearted and bound my wounds and reminded me that in Him is peace, in Him is hope, in Him is joy. And in Him is the strength to seek Him.
Today my artificial happiness had vanished, words died on my lips and silliness vanished from my heart. I didn’t need them. They were only a cover for the deeper, darker despair that was eating my soul. Today things were different. Today supper actually looked appetizing. Today I was able to climb out of bed in the morning and face a new day. Today I rejoiced.
And tonight I could face my journal. Tonight I could reflect on the day knowing that the Lord was with me—not because I am worthy but because of His great love.
Child of weakness, I give you this wisdom without a price:
Seek thy strength in the arm that delivers.
Seek thy peace in the hand that calms hurricanes.
Seek thy help in the fingers that scattered the stars.
Seek thy joy in the presence of Almighty God.
To rise again was too painful. To call for help required me to muster my voice. To grip my sword begged my intense concentration. Instead I lay broken and bleeding.
Until yesterday.
As I cleaned the neighbor’s house, the dam inside trembled. I hadn’t wept since the day the Lord had worked in two hearts for an outcome I thought was right. It seemed we’d won. A couple of days later my dreams crumbled when those for whom I'd prayed rejected what had happened and walked their own way. I was too weak from the battle. Used up. Empty. I sank to the ground and never rose.
Until yesterday.
Josiah came to join me and read me a rap song he’d just written. “Is it encouraging?” I asked him. “I need something encouraging.” Then the dam broke and the flood rushed through and down my face, burning my eyes and cutting paths in my cheeks. The tears started and wouldn’t stop. I spilled frustrations, discouragement, anger, doubt, confusion, helplessness. Some to Josiah, some only to the Lord.
And I cried for help. I pleaded for mercy. I begged to be raised from the dead.
Josiah went outside with my phone and I know he called Nathaniel. I finished cleaning alone, weeping, praying, whispering, pleading. Like a person rising from the dead, casting off the burial clothes, free to walk again, to stand again, to see again, to speak again. Free to love again. To feel again. To hope again. To ask again.
Yesterday the Lord picked me up off the battlefield, wounded, bleading and broken-hearted and bound my wounds and reminded me that in Him is peace, in Him is hope, in Him is joy. And in Him is the strength to seek Him.
Today my artificial happiness had vanished, words died on my lips and silliness vanished from my heart. I didn’t need them. They were only a cover for the deeper, darker despair that was eating my soul. Today things were different. Today supper actually looked appetizing. Today I was able to climb out of bed in the morning and face a new day. Today I rejoiced.
And tonight I could face my journal. Tonight I could reflect on the day knowing that the Lord was with me—not because I am worthy but because of His great love.
Child of weakness, I give you this wisdom without a price:
Seek thy strength in the arm that delivers.
Seek thy peace in the hand that calms hurricanes.
Seek thy help in the fingers that scattered the stars.
Seek thy joy in the presence of Almighty God.
Because I am Completely Single
(From 2 Peter 1:2-11)
And society insists I should be whining about it. Secular society proclaims that something must be terribly amiss if I have no boyfriend while Christian society simply insinuates my second-rateness by asking, “You’re still not married?”
Because a significant other is, after all, the measure of completeness.
Step back in time with me to a day when I was at enmity with God, excluded from His promises, cut off from His mercy by my sin. Having rebelled against Almighty God, choosing myself over Him, I found myself in a place of stark emptiness, alone, accursed, afraid. Single. Strip me back to the raw bones of helpless humanity and my needs become apparent—only one: to know God. Jesus stepped in, offering His life a ransom for my sins, redeeming me into a relationship with God, saving my soul from eminent death and destruction and betrothing me to Himself for eternity. Jesus took an empty, meaningless life and hid it in His making me complete.
In Christ, God granted to me everything pertaining to life and godliness. Do I lack?
Once upon a time you, too, were incomplete. Broken. Empty. Excluded from God’s mercy. But if you know Christ, you have everything. You are complete. Society doesn’t know God and tries to fill His place with everything imaginable: talent, money, beauty, fame, intelligence, experience, health, food, power, family, friends and romance. None of these complete you. Not even having all your appendages attached and in working order makes you a complete person. Completeness is apart from anything you can touch or see. Knowing Christ, you have escaped the corruption that is in the world by lust. Lust that is never satisfied, that always wants more. That we pursue until it controls us. You needn’t pursue anything but Yahweh.
Does this make “other” things evil? Not at all. Each of these things is a responsibility given by God to glorify Him. Every good thing and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Lights (James 1:17). He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, will He not also along with Him, graciously give us all things (Romans 8:32)? We know that God will supply all our needs according to the riches in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19). Take it back to the basics and we discover that we only have one primal need—to be saved, to belong to God. Everything else is a bonus. More. Above and beyond. An overflowing cup.
If your Heavenly Father met your primal need for a Savior, so miraculously bridging the gap between fallen man and perfect deity, does He have the power and wisdom to will and to work in your life for His good pleasure? Is there really anything “missing”? Are you incomplete? Lacking something?
Of course not. You have everything you need for life and godliness. Jesus. The lover of your soul. The bread from heaven. The pearl of great price. He beautifies the afflicted with salvation. He heals the soul. He makes wise the foolish and strengthens the weak. He is a father to the fatherless and a friend to all those who call on Him.
I realize that reflecting on these almost cliché truths sets your heart at ease and puts a smile on your face—for the duration of about two minutes. Just until the next wedding announcement arrives or you climb into bed alone. When sitting patiently, singing “Jesus is all the world to me” fails to stave off those second-rate blues, forget waiting to be pursued by a man and pursue!
Pursue Yahweh--Seek to know Him intimately, what pleases and displeases Him, His goals, His purposes, His promises. While you are unmarried, you have so much time energy and emotion you could be pouring into seeking Yahweh and building a foundation that will hold strong through the rest of your life. Are you wasting that time in pining for a husband when you already have a Perfect Lover?
Pursue your family--There is no shame, no indiscretion in a girl wooing her father or brothers. Certainly none in her reaching out to her mother or sisters. While you are unmarried you have so much time, energy and emotion that you could pour into the relationships that will best prepare you for marriage and uphold you through it—the relationships God has already blessed you with. He who is faithful in small things will be given great things (Mark 25:21). Are you wasting this precious training ground by day-dreaming of “escaping” it?
Pursue relationships with other girls—When Jesus healed the Gerasene demoniac (Mark 5:1-20), the man begged to go with Jesus. His request was a good one. Your desire for marriage is also. But Jesus told him “no.” That “no” was not a punishment. It was a redirection. The Lord had work for that man to do. The result of his cheerful obedience was that, even though Jesus had to leave the area, the entire region heard the good news of Jesus’ salvation. While you are unmarried, you have so much time, energy and emotion that you could be pouring into relationships with other girls. Are you wasting it feeling sorry for yourself when others could benefit from your encouragement?
Endure! Press on! Knowing that by the testing of your faith you will be perfect and complete, lacking nothing (James 1:2-4)! Be diligent to supplement your faith with moral excellence, consistently choosing to do the right thing. Your moral excellence comes from the knowledge of Christ! You come to know Christ through self-control and diligent study of Him and His word, which requires perseverance in your desire for God. Reach out to others, be kind to others. Forget about being “in love” and love! For real.
And guess what—you’ll find that you’ve been preparing for marriage in the best way possible. Or for whatever else the Lord might throw your way. You’re not depending on a husband to complete you. Or a father. Or a friend. Or anything else. Only Christ is perfect. Only Christ will never disappoint. In Christ you are complete. Lacking nothing. That is the secret of contentment in all circumstances (Philippians 4:11-13). Married? Single? Widowed? Your completeness comes from Christ. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
If these qualities are yours and are increasing, you’re neither useless nor unfruitful! You’re not incomplete. Second-rate. In Christ, you have everything you need for life and godliness. If you practice these things, you will never stumble. You’ll be so busy enjoying both that you’ll forget about the fact that you’re “still not married.” That you only turn down one side of your bed. You’ll forget to evaluate guys in light of your “husband-worthy” list. Time will fly by while the Lord is at work writing the life-stories that only He knows how to compose. Being completely single is an opportunity to be completely singled out to serve the Lord only. It’s an opportunity that, most likely, will not last forever.
Why would I whine about being free to serve Yahweh wholly? Why would I worry whether the God of eternity takes note of the ticking of a biological clock? Why would I feel as if I’m missing out on all the things God doesn’t have for me right now? I’ve got everything I need. In Christ I am complete.
Once I was a broken child,
Marked for death, by sin defiled,
But Thou hast brought me near by grace
To gaze upon Thy perfect face.
Complete in Jesus Christ I stand,
He holds me wholly in His hand,
I need no argument or plea—
He died to set my spirit free.
This is the love that Jesus brings,
Who left His throne as King of Kings,
And donned my sinful flesh to prove
The height and breadth and depth of love.
Complete in Jesus Christ I stand,
Receiving mercy from His hand
I trust that He will also give
Whatever I most need to live.
What else should I demand or plead?
I have no other pressing need
But to partake of Love Divine
And to be His as He is mine.
Complete in Jesus Christ I stand,
And dare to open wide my hands
To let go of my hopes and dreams,
Be emptied to be filled by Him.
And society insists I should be whining about it. Secular society proclaims that something must be terribly amiss if I have no boyfriend while Christian society simply insinuates my second-rateness by asking, “You’re still not married?”
Because a significant other is, after all, the measure of completeness.
Step back in time with me to a day when I was at enmity with God, excluded from His promises, cut off from His mercy by my sin. Having rebelled against Almighty God, choosing myself over Him, I found myself in a place of stark emptiness, alone, accursed, afraid. Single. Strip me back to the raw bones of helpless humanity and my needs become apparent—only one: to know God. Jesus stepped in, offering His life a ransom for my sins, redeeming me into a relationship with God, saving my soul from eminent death and destruction and betrothing me to Himself for eternity. Jesus took an empty, meaningless life and hid it in His making me complete.
In Christ, God granted to me everything pertaining to life and godliness. Do I lack?
Once upon a time you, too, were incomplete. Broken. Empty. Excluded from God’s mercy. But if you know Christ, you have everything. You are complete. Society doesn’t know God and tries to fill His place with everything imaginable: talent, money, beauty, fame, intelligence, experience, health, food, power, family, friends and romance. None of these complete you. Not even having all your appendages attached and in working order makes you a complete person. Completeness is apart from anything you can touch or see. Knowing Christ, you have escaped the corruption that is in the world by lust. Lust that is never satisfied, that always wants more. That we pursue until it controls us. You needn’t pursue anything but Yahweh.
Does this make “other” things evil? Not at all. Each of these things is a responsibility given by God to glorify Him. Every good thing and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of Lights (James 1:17). He who did not spare His own Son, but delivered Him up for us all, will He not also along with Him, graciously give us all things (Romans 8:32)? We know that God will supply all our needs according to the riches in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19). Take it back to the basics and we discover that we only have one primal need—to be saved, to belong to God. Everything else is a bonus. More. Above and beyond. An overflowing cup.
If your Heavenly Father met your primal need for a Savior, so miraculously bridging the gap between fallen man and perfect deity, does He have the power and wisdom to will and to work in your life for His good pleasure? Is there really anything “missing”? Are you incomplete? Lacking something?
Of course not. You have everything you need for life and godliness. Jesus. The lover of your soul. The bread from heaven. The pearl of great price. He beautifies the afflicted with salvation. He heals the soul. He makes wise the foolish and strengthens the weak. He is a father to the fatherless and a friend to all those who call on Him.
I realize that reflecting on these almost cliché truths sets your heart at ease and puts a smile on your face—for the duration of about two minutes. Just until the next wedding announcement arrives or you climb into bed alone. When sitting patiently, singing “Jesus is all the world to me” fails to stave off those second-rate blues, forget waiting to be pursued by a man and pursue!
Pursue Yahweh--Seek to know Him intimately, what pleases and displeases Him, His goals, His purposes, His promises. While you are unmarried, you have so much time energy and emotion you could be pouring into seeking Yahweh and building a foundation that will hold strong through the rest of your life. Are you wasting that time in pining for a husband when you already have a Perfect Lover?
Pursue your family--There is no shame, no indiscretion in a girl wooing her father or brothers. Certainly none in her reaching out to her mother or sisters. While you are unmarried you have so much time, energy and emotion that you could pour into the relationships that will best prepare you for marriage and uphold you through it—the relationships God has already blessed you with. He who is faithful in small things will be given great things (Mark 25:21). Are you wasting this precious training ground by day-dreaming of “escaping” it?
Pursue relationships with other girls—When Jesus healed the Gerasene demoniac (Mark 5:1-20), the man begged to go with Jesus. His request was a good one. Your desire for marriage is also. But Jesus told him “no.” That “no” was not a punishment. It was a redirection. The Lord had work for that man to do. The result of his cheerful obedience was that, even though Jesus had to leave the area, the entire region heard the good news of Jesus’ salvation. While you are unmarried, you have so much time, energy and emotion that you could be pouring into relationships with other girls. Are you wasting it feeling sorry for yourself when others could benefit from your encouragement?
Endure! Press on! Knowing that by the testing of your faith you will be perfect and complete, lacking nothing (James 1:2-4)! Be diligent to supplement your faith with moral excellence, consistently choosing to do the right thing. Your moral excellence comes from the knowledge of Christ! You come to know Christ through self-control and diligent study of Him and His word, which requires perseverance in your desire for God. Reach out to others, be kind to others. Forget about being “in love” and love! For real.
And guess what—you’ll find that you’ve been preparing for marriage in the best way possible. Or for whatever else the Lord might throw your way. You’re not depending on a husband to complete you. Or a father. Or a friend. Or anything else. Only Christ is perfect. Only Christ will never disappoint. In Christ you are complete. Lacking nothing. That is the secret of contentment in all circumstances (Philippians 4:11-13). Married? Single? Widowed? Your completeness comes from Christ. “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”
If these qualities are yours and are increasing, you’re neither useless nor unfruitful! You’re not incomplete. Second-rate. In Christ, you have everything you need for life and godliness. If you practice these things, you will never stumble. You’ll be so busy enjoying both that you’ll forget about the fact that you’re “still not married.” That you only turn down one side of your bed. You’ll forget to evaluate guys in light of your “husband-worthy” list. Time will fly by while the Lord is at work writing the life-stories that only He knows how to compose. Being completely single is an opportunity to be completely singled out to serve the Lord only. It’s an opportunity that, most likely, will not last forever.
Why would I whine about being free to serve Yahweh wholly? Why would I worry whether the God of eternity takes note of the ticking of a biological clock? Why would I feel as if I’m missing out on all the things God doesn’t have for me right now? I’ve got everything I need. In Christ I am complete.
Once I was a broken child,
Marked for death, by sin defiled,
But Thou hast brought me near by grace
To gaze upon Thy perfect face.
Complete in Jesus Christ I stand,
He holds me wholly in His hand,
I need no argument or plea—
He died to set my spirit free.
This is the love that Jesus brings,
Who left His throne as King of Kings,
And donned my sinful flesh to prove
The height and breadth and depth of love.
Complete in Jesus Christ I stand,
Receiving mercy from His hand
I trust that He will also give
Whatever I most need to live.
What else should I demand or plead?
I have no other pressing need
But to partake of Love Divine
And to be His as He is mine.
Complete in Jesus Christ I stand,
And dare to open wide my hands
To let go of my hopes and dreams,
Be emptied to be filled by Him.
Concerning Anointing
I wash my hair frequently to keep it from getting oily, so the Biblical precedent for anointing the head had long baffled me. Who wants their hair caked with oil? As I’ve been reading through the Old Testament, I’ve run across the theme of anointing again…and again…and again.
The concept first shows up with the consecration of Aaron the priest. A special oil is devised to pour over his head in preparation for the holy ceremonies. I found it next in the book of Ruth—“Anoint yourself and dress yourself” Naomi told her in hushed tones, preparing her to visit Boaz on the threshing floor. When Yahweh chose Saul to be the first king of Israel, he sent the prophet Samuel to anoint him with oil and here the picture begins to crystallize. When Samuel had finished anointing him, God’s Holy Spirit came upon him and changed him. The same was true of David, when Samuel anointed him to take Saul’s place—God’s Holy Spirit left Saul and came upon David powerfully.
Later David praises Yahweh, his shepherd for anointing his head with oil and he spoke of the oil of gladness. What is the significance of the anointing? For Aaron, it set him apart, made him holy unto Yahweh, able to offer sacrifices. For Ruth, it made her acceptable to her redeemer. For those anointed king, it empowered them to fight Yahweh’s battles. It seemed simultaneous with the filling of the Holy Spirit—Yahweh’s imparting of strength, power and wisdom. By the Holy Spirit the heroes of old prophesied, performed feats of valor and strength, exercised wisdom, discretion and boldness—they were changed into men and women who reflected Yahweh.
I find the theme again in the book of Acts, when the Holy Spirit is poured out, like a fragrant oil, bringing joy and gladness, power, wisdom and authority to those who have put their faith in God. Filled with the Holy Spirit, those in the upper room speak of God’s wonders in foreign tongues. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Peter preaches the gospel to thousands. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Steven stands before his accusers and proclaims the truth.
This anointing, once something rare in the days of the imperfect old covenant, has now been poured out on every believer. “Having believed, you were sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise.” No longer is it an occasional filling, but a constant indwelling, promising and aiding our sanctification. It is the agent setting us apart, making us holy to Yahweh. It is the beauty that makes us acceptable to come before our Redeemer. It is the power, enabling us to withstand the enemy, to speak God’s word, to understand God’s will, to desire God’s glory. By God’s Spirit I can come before Him, my prayers acceptable in His sight and can cry “Abba! Father!”
Thanks to the Holy Spirit, David understood this beautiful outpouring. “Yahweh has anointed my head with oil…my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of Yahweh forever.”
Lord, Thou left us not alone
When Thou ascended to go home,
But sent Thy Spirit here instead
To feed us Thy own living bread
To lead us into truth and grace
To show to us Thy perfect face
To give us boldness, wisdom, might
And make us perfect in Thy sight.
The concept first shows up with the consecration of Aaron the priest. A special oil is devised to pour over his head in preparation for the holy ceremonies. I found it next in the book of Ruth—“Anoint yourself and dress yourself” Naomi told her in hushed tones, preparing her to visit Boaz on the threshing floor. When Yahweh chose Saul to be the first king of Israel, he sent the prophet Samuel to anoint him with oil and here the picture begins to crystallize. When Samuel had finished anointing him, God’s Holy Spirit came upon him and changed him. The same was true of David, when Samuel anointed him to take Saul’s place—God’s Holy Spirit left Saul and came upon David powerfully.
Later David praises Yahweh, his shepherd for anointing his head with oil and he spoke of the oil of gladness. What is the significance of the anointing? For Aaron, it set him apart, made him holy unto Yahweh, able to offer sacrifices. For Ruth, it made her acceptable to her redeemer. For those anointed king, it empowered them to fight Yahweh’s battles. It seemed simultaneous with the filling of the Holy Spirit—Yahweh’s imparting of strength, power and wisdom. By the Holy Spirit the heroes of old prophesied, performed feats of valor and strength, exercised wisdom, discretion and boldness—they were changed into men and women who reflected Yahweh.
I find the theme again in the book of Acts, when the Holy Spirit is poured out, like a fragrant oil, bringing joy and gladness, power, wisdom and authority to those who have put their faith in God. Filled with the Holy Spirit, those in the upper room speak of God’s wonders in foreign tongues. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Peter preaches the gospel to thousands. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Steven stands before his accusers and proclaims the truth.
This anointing, once something rare in the days of the imperfect old covenant, has now been poured out on every believer. “Having believed, you were sealed with the Holy Spirit of promise.” No longer is it an occasional filling, but a constant indwelling, promising and aiding our sanctification. It is the agent setting us apart, making us holy to Yahweh. It is the beauty that makes us acceptable to come before our Redeemer. It is the power, enabling us to withstand the enemy, to speak God’s word, to understand God’s will, to desire God’s glory. By God’s Spirit I can come before Him, my prayers acceptable in His sight and can cry “Abba! Father!”
Thanks to the Holy Spirit, David understood this beautiful outpouring. “Yahweh has anointed my head with oil…my cup overflows. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of Yahweh forever.”
Lord, Thou left us not alone
When Thou ascended to go home,
But sent Thy Spirit here instead
To feed us Thy own living bread
To lead us into truth and grace
To show to us Thy perfect face
To give us boldness, wisdom, might
And make us perfect in Thy sight.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Walking through the dining room just before six this morning on my way to fix breakfast, I stopped in my tracks and stared outside at a layer of snow. Not a measly Arkansas powdered sugar dusting, either, but a serious birthday cake layer of pure, white, cold, wet snow. Eleven inches, the news channels all insisted, though I don’t believe I saw more than half that amount. With a little friendly persuasion from Zach, we all abandoned our regular activities to tromp through this winter wonderland in search of Narnia or the North Pole. Josiah and I got the bright idea to deck ourselves in summer outfits and discard our shoes for a “white” themed picture. By the time we made the mad dash back to the house, I couldn’t even feel my toes, but a few minutes inside soon left them burning with the heat of returning circulation.
Mom delivered the phone to me and I mouthed, “Who is it?” She shrugged. “Maybe a Japanese girl?” Quickly I greeted the caller. A familiar voice, but I couldn’t quite seem to place it. Finally I said, “I have no clue who you are,” and she alleviated my confusion with her name: Sarahlita. That certainly put a different spin on matters and soon we were chatting away again like the childhood bosom companions that we are. Funny how it is: no matter how long we’ve been apart, we always come back together able to pick up where we left off and always finding that the Lord is teaching us the same things. Even though she’s married now with a six-month-old son. As we talked, she kept probing, “So…nothing else you need to tell me?...Anything else big going on?...What exciting things are happening with you?...Anything specific you need prayer for?” and finally wrapping up with, “Well, if anything important does happen, do call me, or e-mail—or even if there’s something important you need me to pray about.” I enjoyed a giggling spell after we hung up without even a hint of guilt. There’s honestly nothing to tell.
“Tonight is going to be fun,” Lydia informed me, as she tucked her Bible onto her bookshelf. I raised my eyebrows. “What’s happening tonight?” She grinned. “I just finished John chapter two and I have tons of questions for you!”
At the supper table, I nudged her and whisper-asked if she was ready to tell Mom and Papa. She reached under the table and held my hand so tightly that my ring left indents on the insides of my fingers before she finally nodded. We launched out together on the story and watched our parent’s delighted faces. When Josiah came in a few minutes later, Lydia had to go through the retelling—by herself this time. The rest of the evening we all gushed, she called Nathaniel and Lauren, both grandmas and Josh Potts (since his testimony Sunday had driven her to want salvation for sure). Then the family met outside while Papa baptized her in the hot tub. I must admit, a hot tub does make the perfect baptismal on a snowy evening.
Every single day seems to get sweeter and better, and I know the Lord’s lovingkindnesses are new every day, for His compassions never cease. But I’m bracing myself—every mountaintop overlooks a valley. Soon I will have to make the treacherous descent. I find myself clinging to every single second, each one seeming a precious blessing, especially those with my family. I want to have each moment treasured in my heart for the day when a sword may pierce my soul. I want to cling to what God is doing now for the day when darkness and discouragement become too friendly, or when change looms up as a frightening obstacle.
I want to store up the seven fat years for the years of famine that are as sure to come as the spring rain.
Lord, Thy blessings always prove
The vast unmeasured of Thy love,
But teach my heart to yet discern
The mountain world-view I should learn.
For though some days are filled with pleasure,
Thou alone are my true treasure.
Happenstance may turn appalling
Still Thou art Love—my Love--enthralling.
Mom delivered the phone to me and I mouthed, “Who is it?” She shrugged. “Maybe a Japanese girl?” Quickly I greeted the caller. A familiar voice, but I couldn’t quite seem to place it. Finally I said, “I have no clue who you are,” and she alleviated my confusion with her name: Sarahlita. That certainly put a different spin on matters and soon we were chatting away again like the childhood bosom companions that we are. Funny how it is: no matter how long we’ve been apart, we always come back together able to pick up where we left off and always finding that the Lord is teaching us the same things. Even though she’s married now with a six-month-old son. As we talked, she kept probing, “So…nothing else you need to tell me?...Anything else big going on?...What exciting things are happening with you?...Anything specific you need prayer for?” and finally wrapping up with, “Well, if anything important does happen, do call me, or e-mail—or even if there’s something important you need me to pray about.” I enjoyed a giggling spell after we hung up without even a hint of guilt. There’s honestly nothing to tell.
“Tonight is going to be fun,” Lydia informed me, as she tucked her Bible onto her bookshelf. I raised my eyebrows. “What’s happening tonight?” She grinned. “I just finished John chapter two and I have tons of questions for you!”
At the supper table, I nudged her and whisper-asked if she was ready to tell Mom and Papa. She reached under the table and held my hand so tightly that my ring left indents on the insides of my fingers before she finally nodded. We launched out together on the story and watched our parent’s delighted faces. When Josiah came in a few minutes later, Lydia had to go through the retelling—by herself this time. The rest of the evening we all gushed, she called Nathaniel and Lauren, both grandmas and Josh Potts (since his testimony Sunday had driven her to want salvation for sure). Then the family met outside while Papa baptized her in the hot tub. I must admit, a hot tub does make the perfect baptismal on a snowy evening.
Every single day seems to get sweeter and better, and I know the Lord’s lovingkindnesses are new every day, for His compassions never cease. But I’m bracing myself—every mountaintop overlooks a valley. Soon I will have to make the treacherous descent. I find myself clinging to every single second, each one seeming a precious blessing, especially those with my family. I want to have each moment treasured in my heart for the day when a sword may pierce my soul. I want to cling to what God is doing now for the day when darkness and discouragement become too friendly, or when change looms up as a frightening obstacle.
I want to store up the seven fat years for the years of famine that are as sure to come as the spring rain.
Lord, Thy blessings always prove
The vast unmeasured of Thy love,
But teach my heart to yet discern
The mountain world-view I should learn.
For though some days are filled with pleasure,
Thou alone are my true treasure.
Happenstance may turn appalling
Still Thou art Love—my Love--enthralling.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
I have nothing meritorious of my whining today. Well, besides the charming burn blistering my arm, courtesy of the leaky iron in the Sweetest Suite. Even my time with Amber was outstanding as we worked our way through the whole epistle of First John.
My word for the day is ridiculous. It’s ridiculous they way my emotions have turned into a world-class roller-coaster ride. If I keep this up, I’m going to make myself motion sick. Up, down, up, down. Whoops! There’s a loop-da-loop! Don’t lose your soup! I must know: Am I floundering because I am losing focus, or because I am being attacked? Am I being attacked because I am weak…or because I am becoming strong? Or because I am losing focus? Is the intensity with which I feel everything, shall we say, healthy? Natural? Pleasing to the Lord? If not, how in the world can I gain control of my unwieldy feelings? How do I claim the victory and conquer through Christ the minute the temptation strikes?
People talk to me. Maybe because I walk around grinning like the Cheshire Cat, completely oblivious to wise precautions about who to avoiding eye-contact. The sun was shining, the day was warm, yesterday is over, past, gone, done, fine’, kaput and God is good. Ladies in thrifts shops stopped me to ask for fashion advice, an old guy in Wal-mart thought I was talking to myself until I showed him my blue-tooth, a little Japanese girl in the Tech library shuffled over to where I worked, shyly asking for help. “Do you know how I can log into the internet?” She handed me her miniature laptop and I blinked at the desktop. A confusing network of black lines stared at me, interspersed with the few familiar icons with which I managed to successfully pick my way over the dangerous morass of a Japanese computer.
Every single chance I missed today. The farthest I managed with the lady in the thrift shop was some lame comment about God making a gorgeous day. The old guy in Wal-mart, well, he probably went to church somewhere anyway. The Japanese girl? Eee. I have such a hard time talking to them! I can barely understand anyone who doesn’t speak perfect English—meaning, my version of English. Worst of all, this morning I got down on my knees and prayed that the Lord would send me opportunities. Even in the moment, I knew He was answering my prayer. Why did I disobey? If I lived in the wild, wild west they’d brand me a yellow-bellied coward. I can talk about wanting to see those mansions filled, but what am I actually doing?
I’m such a wimp. Excuse me while I go beat myself up.
Lord, how patient You must be.
You answer each specific plea
Tied up in paper, with a bow
And I pretend I didn’t know.
I push aside Your giving hand
Insisting, “You don’t understand!”
I scorn the gift You’ve heaven sent.
Please spank me, so I will repent.
My word for the day is ridiculous. It’s ridiculous they way my emotions have turned into a world-class roller-coaster ride. If I keep this up, I’m going to make myself motion sick. Up, down, up, down. Whoops! There’s a loop-da-loop! Don’t lose your soup! I must know: Am I floundering because I am losing focus, or because I am being attacked? Am I being attacked because I am weak…or because I am becoming strong? Or because I am losing focus? Is the intensity with which I feel everything, shall we say, healthy? Natural? Pleasing to the Lord? If not, how in the world can I gain control of my unwieldy feelings? How do I claim the victory and conquer through Christ the minute the temptation strikes?
People talk to me. Maybe because I walk around grinning like the Cheshire Cat, completely oblivious to wise precautions about who to avoiding eye-contact. The sun was shining, the day was warm, yesterday is over, past, gone, done, fine’, kaput and God is good. Ladies in thrifts shops stopped me to ask for fashion advice, an old guy in Wal-mart thought I was talking to myself until I showed him my blue-tooth, a little Japanese girl in the Tech library shuffled over to where I worked, shyly asking for help. “Do you know how I can log into the internet?” She handed me her miniature laptop and I blinked at the desktop. A confusing network of black lines stared at me, interspersed with the few familiar icons with which I managed to successfully pick my way over the dangerous morass of a Japanese computer.
Every single chance I missed today. The farthest I managed with the lady in the thrift shop was some lame comment about God making a gorgeous day. The old guy in Wal-mart, well, he probably went to church somewhere anyway. The Japanese girl? Eee. I have such a hard time talking to them! I can barely understand anyone who doesn’t speak perfect English—meaning, my version of English. Worst of all, this morning I got down on my knees and prayed that the Lord would send me opportunities. Even in the moment, I knew He was answering my prayer. Why did I disobey? If I lived in the wild, wild west they’d brand me a yellow-bellied coward. I can talk about wanting to see those mansions filled, but what am I actually doing?
I’m such a wimp. Excuse me while I go beat myself up.
Lord, how patient You must be.
You answer each specific plea
Tied up in paper, with a bow
And I pretend I didn’t know.
I push aside Your giving hand
Insisting, “You don’t understand!”
I scorn the gift You’ve heaven sent.
Please spank me, so I will repent.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
I’ve discovered the best way to get through Lowe’s in a timely manner. The only way, probably. I call this new game plan: Find Zach. I picked up Miss Emily for a companion in running Mom’s errands. Arrived at Lowe’s we were greeted by none other than Welchy himself, who made sure we found the person we needed, the caulking we needed and even opened another register just to check us out. “Young lady, I need to see your ID,” he quipped as I slid Mom’s debit card. “Are you Lane or Marcia?”
The Lord’s lovingkindness was new and overwhelming today. It would seem strange and unbelievable that always, when I come to the end of my rope and cry out to Him, He answers--almost immediately—if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve been told to expect that. Jacinda and I were conversing as I pulled up to Amber’s. “I’ve been praying for you,” she told me. “Really? Thanks! Mind praying a bit more? I’m here.” After knocking, I made a characteristic dash behind the stairwell. It’s tradition now, that I knock and then hide. Amber would be disappointed if she ever opened the door and found me standing there like any normal person. By the time I left the house I was floating and clouds of puffy whiteness and strumming a harp while singing God's praises. At lunch Jacinda asked me how it went. “Great!” was my fervent response. A grin broke out across her face. “I was praying for you,” she said. “First I was praying that God would just let you get through it, and that it didn’t have to be the best time ever, but just better than last week. Then I stopped myself. What was I thinking? I started praying that He would be present and that it would be an amazing time of encouragement. I figured I ought to pray for what I really hoped.” Lauryn and April joined us for lunch, and I found myself reveling at last in some “girl time”.
“You probably don’t remember us,” Jim and Gloria made excuses for me, after arriving at our house tonight. We knew them from the days of my infancy—the Gospel Chapel in Hutchinson, Kansas. “Yes, I do,” I defended myself, and began describing to them the breathing treatments they’d give Rachel, James’ piano playing, their dog Muffin and the house they lived in, right down to the wood flooring in the upstairs where we played hide-and-seek. I easily grasp and recall images—faces, moments in time, outfits, scenes—like snapshots in an interminable mental album. Oh, but those little tasks my Papa gives me slip through the cracks and fall neglected in my memory.
As a final touch to the day, Nathaniel called to chat with me on his way home from Kansas. A chat is defined as a two-hour conversation on every topic in the books—with a definite focus on recording and music. Soon I was caught up in pleasant memories of the days before his marriage, even the night before he arrived in Texas when I talked to him until the wee hours of the morning to keep him awake as he drove, having sent his sickly bride on to bed. Sometimes six months feels as if it were six years. And sometimes I get overwhelmed with sentimentality. Sometimes being defined as very occasionally.
If I were a truly talented writer, I’d be able to sum the whole day up in one word. As a talented-writer-wannabe, I’ll make an attempt: encouraging. Uplifting. Amazing! That was three. I guess I’ll never be a truly talented writer. But I’m something better. I’m alive with the joy of the Lord.
Lord, I often hesitate
To batter down Thy temple gate
With praise and worship for Thy deeds,
Yet this is what my spirit needs.
Today, I’ll take Thy court by storm,
And magnify Thy perfect form
Thy mighty works, Thy priceless words.
Today Thy praises will be heard!
The Lord’s lovingkindness was new and overwhelming today. It would seem strange and unbelievable that always, when I come to the end of my rope and cry out to Him, He answers--almost immediately—if it weren’t for the fact that I’ve been told to expect that. Jacinda and I were conversing as I pulled up to Amber’s. “I’ve been praying for you,” she told me. “Really? Thanks! Mind praying a bit more? I’m here.” After knocking, I made a characteristic dash behind the stairwell. It’s tradition now, that I knock and then hide. Amber would be disappointed if she ever opened the door and found me standing there like any normal person. By the time I left the house I was floating and clouds of puffy whiteness and strumming a harp while singing God's praises. At lunch Jacinda asked me how it went. “Great!” was my fervent response. A grin broke out across her face. “I was praying for you,” she said. “First I was praying that God would just let you get through it, and that it didn’t have to be the best time ever, but just better than last week. Then I stopped myself. What was I thinking? I started praying that He would be present and that it would be an amazing time of encouragement. I figured I ought to pray for what I really hoped.” Lauryn and April joined us for lunch, and I found myself reveling at last in some “girl time”.
“You probably don’t remember us,” Jim and Gloria made excuses for me, after arriving at our house tonight. We knew them from the days of my infancy—the Gospel Chapel in Hutchinson, Kansas. “Yes, I do,” I defended myself, and began describing to them the breathing treatments they’d give Rachel, James’ piano playing, their dog Muffin and the house they lived in, right down to the wood flooring in the upstairs where we played hide-and-seek. I easily grasp and recall images—faces, moments in time, outfits, scenes—like snapshots in an interminable mental album. Oh, but those little tasks my Papa gives me slip through the cracks and fall neglected in my memory.
As a final touch to the day, Nathaniel called to chat with me on his way home from Kansas. A chat is defined as a two-hour conversation on every topic in the books—with a definite focus on recording and music. Soon I was caught up in pleasant memories of the days before his marriage, even the night before he arrived in Texas when I talked to him until the wee hours of the morning to keep him awake as he drove, having sent his sickly bride on to bed. Sometimes six months feels as if it were six years. And sometimes I get overwhelmed with sentimentality. Sometimes being defined as very occasionally.
If I were a truly talented writer, I’d be able to sum the whole day up in one word. As a talented-writer-wannabe, I’ll make an attempt: encouraging. Uplifting. Amazing! That was three. I guess I’ll never be a truly talented writer. But I’m something better. I’m alive with the joy of the Lord.
Lord, I often hesitate
To batter down Thy temple gate
With praise and worship for Thy deeds,
Yet this is what my spirit needs.
Today, I’ll take Thy court by storm,
And magnify Thy perfect form
Thy mighty works, Thy priceless words.
Today Thy praises will be heard!
Monday, February 11, 2008
“Well, hello,” Miss J mimicked my phone answering, informing me I sound exactly like a Cinderella doll her girls have. I haven’t yet decided how I feel about this resemblance.
I’m a wimp. It’s embarrassing, disappointing and true. I started out this morning on a liquid fast, complete with good intentions to spend the day on my knees seeking breakthrough. I prayed. A little. After fixing quiche I wimped out and ate supper. Mostly because I didn’t want to try to explain myself. I wasn’t even hungry.
The passage Tabitha and I quoted tonight hit home, with comfort and hope. As Jesus revealed the New Jerusalem to the disciple whom He loved, He said, “These words are faithful and true: Behold! I make all things new!” Then He continued, describing the Holy City—there God will be among His people and He will wipe the tears from their eyes. There will be no more death, no more mourning, no more pain. Those things will have passed away. Future perfect tense, because the future will be perfect. My thoughts strayed to the Psalms where David pleaded for the Lord to take account of his wanderings. “Put my tears in Your bottle,” he pleaded, then continued with confidence, “Aren’t all my tears written in Your book?” The Lord is as eager for the day when all is new as are we. He is as eager to pour out His mercy on us, to wipe our tears away. He is waiting patiently, not willing that any should perish, for the day when we will be in His presence and know fullness of joy.
Lord, my tears have filled Thy jar
And Thy return cannot be far
Then Thou shalt wipe all weeping eyes
And bring us laughter from our sighs
For in that day, from death we’re free!
And greater, Lord, we’ll gaze on Thee
And lift our hearts and raise our voice.
In Thy presence, we rejoice.
I’m a wimp. It’s embarrassing, disappointing and true. I started out this morning on a liquid fast, complete with good intentions to spend the day on my knees seeking breakthrough. I prayed. A little. After fixing quiche I wimped out and ate supper. Mostly because I didn’t want to try to explain myself. I wasn’t even hungry.
The passage Tabitha and I quoted tonight hit home, with comfort and hope. As Jesus revealed the New Jerusalem to the disciple whom He loved, He said, “These words are faithful and true: Behold! I make all things new!” Then He continued, describing the Holy City—there God will be among His people and He will wipe the tears from their eyes. There will be no more death, no more mourning, no more pain. Those things will have passed away. Future perfect tense, because the future will be perfect. My thoughts strayed to the Psalms where David pleaded for the Lord to take account of his wanderings. “Put my tears in Your bottle,” he pleaded, then continued with confidence, “Aren’t all my tears written in Your book?” The Lord is as eager for the day when all is new as are we. He is as eager to pour out His mercy on us, to wipe our tears away. He is waiting patiently, not willing that any should perish, for the day when we will be in His presence and know fullness of joy.
Lord, my tears have filled Thy jar
And Thy return cannot be far
Then Thou shalt wipe all weeping eyes
And bring us laughter from our sighs
For in that day, from death we’re free!
And greater, Lord, we’ll gaze on Thee
And lift our hearts and raise our voice.
In Thy presence, we rejoice.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
If I hadn’t promised Amber I’d come into R-ville today, I’d have stayed at home and cuddled up in my bed to read. Chilly rain held out the promise of sleet and snow, so I bundled up right down to a stocking cap and boots. The snow waited until tonight to fall, and I know we’ll be waking up to a beautiful blanket of sparkling white and a sugar dusting on the pine trees.
I spent the morning shopping until I detested every single store in town. No one seemed available on campus, and when my phone rang it was Amber sounding like a choking frog on the other end. “I’m sick,” she informed me. “You better not come over.” I ran by Choices, planning to take my application in. Their hours claimed they were open, but clearly the hour-board was mistaken. Perhaps the electricity loss had put them out of business for the time being.
Campus finally greeted me, cold and lonely, in midafternoon as I headed to the library to deliver something from Lydia to Jacinda. I’d love an explanation for why everyone was having a hard week. Jacinda was wilting under a load of frustrations. Lauryn’s grandpa had a heart attack and her parents were gone. Shoko was simply stressed. April was super busy. Emily was lonely with Lindsey and Becki both gone. Somehow we’re all missing something, and I wasn’t feeling overly joyful myself to offer it to others.
What is the secret of rejoicing in all things? Perspective. But it’s so much easier to preach than practice. Feeling down? Remember all the blessings the Lord has poured out on us, both spiritual and temporal. The temporal may shift and change, the spiritual and carved in stone—white stones.
Lord, Thou bids me to rejoice
And lift to Thee a praise-filled voice,
But sometimes I find my voice to break
And then Thy praises I forsake.
Teach me to abide in Thee
A holy, living entity
That takes my sustenance from Thee
Rejoicing in eternity.
I spent the morning shopping until I detested every single store in town. No one seemed available on campus, and when my phone rang it was Amber sounding like a choking frog on the other end. “I’m sick,” she informed me. “You better not come over.” I ran by Choices, planning to take my application in. Their hours claimed they were open, but clearly the hour-board was mistaken. Perhaps the electricity loss had put them out of business for the time being.
Campus finally greeted me, cold and lonely, in midafternoon as I headed to the library to deliver something from Lydia to Jacinda. I’d love an explanation for why everyone was having a hard week. Jacinda was wilting under a load of frustrations. Lauryn’s grandpa had a heart attack and her parents were gone. Shoko was simply stressed. April was super busy. Emily was lonely with Lindsey and Becki both gone. Somehow we’re all missing something, and I wasn’t feeling overly joyful myself to offer it to others.
What is the secret of rejoicing in all things? Perspective. But it’s so much easier to preach than practice. Feeling down? Remember all the blessings the Lord has poured out on us, both spiritual and temporal. The temporal may shift and change, the spiritual and carved in stone—white stones.
Lord, Thou bids me to rejoice
And lift to Thee a praise-filled voice,
But sometimes I find my voice to break
And then Thy praises I forsake.
Teach me to abide in Thee
A holy, living entity
That takes my sustenance from Thee
Rejoicing in eternity.
Thursday, January 10, 1008
“I’m going to tell you about the day Josh saved my life. One sunny day last Fall,” Zach began. “Josh and I went to Bona Dea to walk and run.”
“We jogged,” Josh interrupted. “Because Zach made me jog.”
Gathered around our dining room table, we shared stories at Papa’s request, laughing and commenting until Josh forfeited his turn and the buck was passed to Zach.
Zach: We were talking…
Josh: We were actually arguing. (His eyes rolled upward toward the ceiling, remembering.)
Zach: And Josh was telling me about alligators that jump out of the creek.
Josh: One alligator sighting.
Zach: And snakes all over the place waiting to attack.
Josh: I hate snakes.
Zach: And we cross this bridge…
Josh: There was no bridge.
Zach: Whatever! There so was a bridge!
Josh: (Just smiles.)
Zach: And all the sudden Josh grabs me and throws me off the path.
Josh: (shaking his head) Zach is a three-hundred pound man. I did not throw him.
Zach: You pushed me. Whatever. I went flying off the path.
Josh: That would be worth seeing.
Zach: And I’m like, “What is going on? What happened?”
Josh: You didn’t even think about it, man. You reacted.
Zach: Oh yeah? Okay, so I reacted immediately.
Josh: He screamed like a girl and jumped.
(The table erupted with laughter. Lauryn was nearly in my lap, laughing so hard tears rolled down her cheeks and should could hardly get her breath. The serene look on Josh’s face didn’t even crack or peel or threaten to come loose.)
Zach: And Josh yells, “It’s a snake! There’s a snake!”
Josh: There was.
Zach: So I grab this huge club and I look down at my feet and there is this snake…about this long (both guys hold their hands out maybe six inches apart). So I killed it. Josh saved my life. And we went right back to running and arguing.
Josh: That is a true statement.
We spent most of the evening exercising our abs, laughing and laughing and laughing. The occasion was a game night, dreamed up by Miss Lauryn and somehow grown a little to include Zach and Daniel and Josh, besides our own family and Nick—a right rollicking crew.
Most precious, though, throughout all our fun and games, was the unity of spirit. Called away to help Josiah with homework, I returned to find the rest crowded around the piano singing praise songs, the abandoned game of Balderdash lying neglected on the floor. And before we split ways, we gathered around for a prayer. Creeping to my bedroom through the quiet house, I marveled at the way my spirits had lifted through the agency of a little fun and fellowship.
Lord, Thou gives us joy and sorrow:
Weeping now, but joy tomorrow,
Thou appoints a time for all
A time to rise, a time to fall
A time to laugh, a time to cry
A time to live, a time to die.
Lord, my times are in Thy hand,
Help me, each time, to understand.
“We jogged,” Josh interrupted. “Because Zach made me jog.”
Gathered around our dining room table, we shared stories at Papa’s request, laughing and commenting until Josh forfeited his turn and the buck was passed to Zach.
Zach: We were talking…
Josh: We were actually arguing. (His eyes rolled upward toward the ceiling, remembering.)
Zach: And Josh was telling me about alligators that jump out of the creek.
Josh: One alligator sighting.
Zach: And snakes all over the place waiting to attack.
Josh: I hate snakes.
Zach: And we cross this bridge…
Josh: There was no bridge.
Zach: Whatever! There so was a bridge!
Josh: (Just smiles.)
Zach: And all the sudden Josh grabs me and throws me off the path.
Josh: (shaking his head) Zach is a three-hundred pound man. I did not throw him.
Zach: You pushed me. Whatever. I went flying off the path.
Josh: That would be worth seeing.
Zach: And I’m like, “What is going on? What happened?”
Josh: You didn’t even think about it, man. You reacted.
Zach: Oh yeah? Okay, so I reacted immediately.
Josh: He screamed like a girl and jumped.
(The table erupted with laughter. Lauryn was nearly in my lap, laughing so hard tears rolled down her cheeks and should could hardly get her breath. The serene look on Josh’s face didn’t even crack or peel or threaten to come loose.)
Zach: And Josh yells, “It’s a snake! There’s a snake!”
Josh: There was.
Zach: So I grab this huge club and I look down at my feet and there is this snake…about this long (both guys hold their hands out maybe six inches apart). So I killed it. Josh saved my life. And we went right back to running and arguing.
Josh: That is a true statement.
We spent most of the evening exercising our abs, laughing and laughing and laughing. The occasion was a game night, dreamed up by Miss Lauryn and somehow grown a little to include Zach and Daniel and Josh, besides our own family and Nick—a right rollicking crew.
Most precious, though, throughout all our fun and games, was the unity of spirit. Called away to help Josiah with homework, I returned to find the rest crowded around the piano singing praise songs, the abandoned game of Balderdash lying neglected on the floor. And before we split ways, we gathered around for a prayer. Creeping to my bedroom through the quiet house, I marveled at the way my spirits had lifted through the agency of a little fun and fellowship.
Lord, Thou gives us joy and sorrow:
Weeping now, but joy tomorrow,
Thou appoints a time for all
A time to rise, a time to fall
A time to laugh, a time to cry
A time to live, a time to die.
Lord, my times are in Thy hand,
Help me, each time, to understand.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Kitchens have a nasty habit of growing smaller the longer you are trapped in them. Mom and I spent the day cooking. I managed to escape the kitchen now and then—for a bit of drumming while my meatballs burned and stuck to the pan, a run to my room to write down a phrase until the timer on my pumpkin bread called me back, for a walk while everyone else ate lunch, to clear out my head and eyes and enjoy the beautiful woods God made. Frankly, it is my firm belief that cooking and eating nearly classify as wastes of precious time. Yet, sadly I must confess, that I do both very well at times.
While in the woods I discovered a large cat paw print. Larger than a house cat. “No worries,” I told myself, and myself raised her eyebrows. “I’ve faced down a wildcat before.” Myself chuckled back, recalling the day so many years ago when I came face to face with a bobcat as he hunted in our old woods back home in Kansas. As we stared at each other, two fireballs of fur and fear, I stood up to my full height and began barking at the top of my lungs. The bobcat retreated in haste and I continued my walk. I was still chuckling to myself when a crash came from the woods and I jerked my head up in time to see three enormous white tails bouncing down the side of the hill.
Sleeper joined us for supper and to pick Nick up for the holidays. Papa surprised us all with a pop quiz on Christians and the Mosaic Law. I missed more than I care to confess, and we all enjoyed a hearty discussion of the matter, followed by some good teaching and some great quotes. I am grateful to be under a Law of Grace, by the blood of Jesus Christ. I am also increasingly aware of how little scripture I know by heart and how little I can draw upon when in a pinch. The foundation for my life is in that book—how can I hope to live a life pleasing to the Lord while so ignorant of His Word?
The disjointed ramblings I scribbled down last night--the workings of an exhausted mind, are beyond my own comprehension today. I cried myself to sleep last night, weeping for the others and myself and woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a train. Slowly I opened my eyes to discover they were not swollen, and then climbed out of bed to fix an early breakfast, pondering the many times I've been told no. As I worked, the thought came to me: No is not a punishment. The force of this simple statement hit me with such amazing ferocity that it nearly stole my breath. No is not a punishment. It’s not a divine spanking when the Lord says “no”. It’s not something to be dreaded. His plans always work out—for the good of those who love Him. For Him to answer my prayers with a “no” should not cause me tears, it should not disturb me or make me miserable. It should bring me peace, knowing that the Lord has heard and answered. And whatever He has is better. Don’t say it tritely. Really listen. I thought what I wanted was good. The Lord said, “no, I’ve got something better in mind. Because you are called according to My purpose.” Where is my cause for sorrow? Where is my excuse for depression? Where is my reason for pitying myself? When the Lord says “no” it is not a punishment, just a redirection. He’s simply blocking me off from the wrong direction and heading me in the right direction again.
Chains fell off my heart and mind. For the first time in a long time I felt completely freed of a burden I’d been carrying, which had grown heavier and heavier of late. Anything to which the Lord says “no” is simply not what He has for me, and I can accept that joyfully as His loving protection. The rest of the day I floated around on the joy of knowing I am a daughter of the King and my heart is like water in His hands, to turn wherever He wishes.
Later, I passed a picture of a much younger Abigail, reposing placidly on the bookshelf in the library. “Little girl,” I sought to advise the innocent-eyed child. “Life is hard. Living is dangerous. Loving is risky. The only true reward is in the Lord. Pursue Him.”
Lord, may I ever, always be
Content to know Thy will for me.
And when I know Thy will in full
Pursue it gladly, heart and soul.
And when Thy will seems distant still
Remind me, waiting, is Thy will.
And when Thy will is dim or worse
Remind me to pursue Thee first.
While in the woods I discovered a large cat paw print. Larger than a house cat. “No worries,” I told myself, and myself raised her eyebrows. “I’ve faced down a wildcat before.” Myself chuckled back, recalling the day so many years ago when I came face to face with a bobcat as he hunted in our old woods back home in Kansas. As we stared at each other, two fireballs of fur and fear, I stood up to my full height and began barking at the top of my lungs. The bobcat retreated in haste and I continued my walk. I was still chuckling to myself when a crash came from the woods and I jerked my head up in time to see three enormous white tails bouncing down the side of the hill.
Sleeper joined us for supper and to pick Nick up for the holidays. Papa surprised us all with a pop quiz on Christians and the Mosaic Law. I missed more than I care to confess, and we all enjoyed a hearty discussion of the matter, followed by some good teaching and some great quotes. I am grateful to be under a Law of Grace, by the blood of Jesus Christ. I am also increasingly aware of how little scripture I know by heart and how little I can draw upon when in a pinch. The foundation for my life is in that book—how can I hope to live a life pleasing to the Lord while so ignorant of His Word?
The disjointed ramblings I scribbled down last night--the workings of an exhausted mind, are beyond my own comprehension today. I cried myself to sleep last night, weeping for the others and myself and woke up feeling like I’d been hit by a train. Slowly I opened my eyes to discover they were not swollen, and then climbed out of bed to fix an early breakfast, pondering the many times I've been told no. As I worked, the thought came to me: No is not a punishment. The force of this simple statement hit me with such amazing ferocity that it nearly stole my breath. No is not a punishment. It’s not a divine spanking when the Lord says “no”. It’s not something to be dreaded. His plans always work out—for the good of those who love Him. For Him to answer my prayers with a “no” should not cause me tears, it should not disturb me or make me miserable. It should bring me peace, knowing that the Lord has heard and answered. And whatever He has is better. Don’t say it tritely. Really listen. I thought what I wanted was good. The Lord said, “no, I’ve got something better in mind. Because you are called according to My purpose.” Where is my cause for sorrow? Where is my excuse for depression? Where is my reason for pitying myself? When the Lord says “no” it is not a punishment, just a redirection. He’s simply blocking me off from the wrong direction and heading me in the right direction again.
Chains fell off my heart and mind. For the first time in a long time I felt completely freed of a burden I’d been carrying, which had grown heavier and heavier of late. Anything to which the Lord says “no” is simply not what He has for me, and I can accept that joyfully as His loving protection. The rest of the day I floated around on the joy of knowing I am a daughter of the King and my heart is like water in His hands, to turn wherever He wishes.
Later, I passed a picture of a much younger Abigail, reposing placidly on the bookshelf in the library. “Little girl,” I sought to advise the innocent-eyed child. “Life is hard. Living is dangerous. Loving is risky. The only true reward is in the Lord. Pursue Him.”
Lord, may I ever, always be
Content to know Thy will for me.
And when I know Thy will in full
Pursue it gladly, heart and soul.
And when Thy will seems distant still
Remind me, waiting, is Thy will.
And when Thy will is dim or worse
Remind me to pursue Thee first.
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Zach and Taylor brought over the recording equipment that Nathaniel is buying from Taylor. It's currently tucked away in Josiah's closet, getting absolutely no use. Is it beyond reasonable that I would want to give it the pleasure of keeping busy? Nathaniel seems to think so. He ordered me in no uncertain terms to "keep my hands off of it!" Even warned me he'd be fingerprinting it when he picked it up. Of course, I could wear a pair of latex gloves.
True to the typical Lodes style, Tedd and Emily arrived an hour late, laden with delicious Indian food and infectious smiles. They eagerly joined in the canning of the apple butter Mom and I had started this morning, and shared stories from their overseas experiences. I successfully passed of Lauren’s cap and gown, saved for Miss Emily to use this Saturday by the “Gently Used cap and gown distribution center of D-town”. And only Papa could be blamed for keeping them past the nine-o’clock curfew. It’s our loss to see them moving on from RussVegas.
Stephen caught my attention today. His opponents couldn’t handle him because of his wisdom, grace and enthusiasm. Those would be wonderful charges laid to my case. It’s a bit daunting, as well, to realize that if I am filled with the Holy Spirit, the world will hate me and will likely rush at me with grinding teeth demanding my death. They won’t be gathered around, applauding, wishing me well, taking celebrity shots—they’ll be pitching rocks.
Lord, I stand here, ready, willing
To receive Thy Spirit’s filling.
Overflow me with Thy wisdom,
Grace and power, those that listen
Will be made to love or hate Thee
Since they simply can’t debate Thee.
If I preach Thy precious story
Thou wilt stand and gain the glory.
Saturday, November 24, 2007
I heard a gunshot this morning, while fixing breakfast, but Zach returned empty handed.
Another cold, cloudy day. The big project today was draining, cleaning and refilling the hot tub. Frankly, it doesn’t really tempt me. After scrubbing off a brown people ring, the idea of sitting in reheated water isn’t terribly exciting. It’s kind of like taking a bath…and then leaving the water in to reheat for the next night.
Abigail Fox is four days from her due date. I got to catch up with her over the phone today. I do believe I’m just the teeniest, little bit homesick. Sure, there are more people here, and more to do here, but sometimes I really don’t feel like I belong. Like there’s still something missing. But I know that I am complete in Christ and nothing can ever separate me from His love.
Thanksgiving is just over and I realize that I’ve not been very grateful. Who shared the truth of Jesus with me? Who brought me to the feet of Christ? And how often do I look at my parents and pass judgment or resist them or dishonor them. I owe them so much more than just being fed, clothed and raised, which is worthy enough of my gratitude. I can stand before God, cleansed of my sins and a child of mercy because my parents taught me the Word of God. For those who would demand credentials of them, I should stand up and say, “I am their letter of commendation.” I can read Paul’s letters and judge the Corinthians for their ungratefulness and arrogance while presuming my wisdom or spirituality over my own parents in the faith. Define the word hypocrite and you will have described me.
Lord, the mirror of Thy word
Reflects the truth that I have heard
As spoken from my parent’s lips.
This truth has kept my feet from slips.
How could I turn my back on them?
Committing that repugnant sin,
Dishonoring the ones who raised me
Seeking, first, my own self’s glory.
Monday, November 19, 2007
I spent the day plotting and scheming to please Papa. Suddenly it dawned on me just how lax I was being to actually pray for him. Sure, I pray for me and my relationship to him, but do I pray for him? If we’re to pray for kings and rulers and all in authority, and if the king’s heart is like channels of water in the hand of God, to turn whichever way He pleases, then surely God can turn my father’s heart to me.
I managed to get the East side of the barn cleaned up the rest of the way—all the raking finished, the vines cut and the needles, vines, woodchips and leaves conflagrated. That’s my fancy way of saying that the whole project went up in smoke. Which was the goal, of course.
And supper went off smoothly. As I was eating the Mexican casserole for supper, I bit into a slightly crunchy onion and my stomach turned over. “Papa will say the onions aren’t done,” I confided to my inner being, and my inner being nodded her head wisely. But when Papa arrived home and sat down to eat, his only comment was, “tasty” while helping himself to seconds. I looked at my inner being, and she looked back at me, and we were both pleasantly surprised.
As Mom and I hashed through monetary issues of “who owes who what for what, when, where and why” I suddenly gave way to a shower of tears, watering my cheeks which, I imagine, will soon be growing a very healthy crop of rice. Embarrassed, I began to make excuses, which only resulted in Mom gushing forth in like manner. So there we sat, a twin fountain-head, bonding through the element of water. Filtered water, even. At any rate, the bonding was accomplished amid a veritable rainstorm, but the foundation that was laid is secure from ever washing away.
Lord, this day was truly Thine
I’ve naught to claim, or blame or whine.
When I am weak and seek Thy face
Then you extend me all Thy grace.
And when I fill my soul with praise
Thou can take hold of single days
And make them flow in song to Thee
To glorify Thy majesty.