Monday, January 10, 2011

“Have you ever in your life commanded the morning, and caused the dawn to know its place; That it might take hold of the ends of the earth, and the wicked be shaken out of it?” ~Job 38:12-13

I feel very small.

've been reading Job the last several days--just enjoying and marveling at God's power, recounted so eloquently, and none so eloquent as Himself. We marvel at the expanse of space. I think of the astronauts who said, "We went to space and God wasn't there. I guess He doesn't exist." Do they really think they could rocket out only as far as earth's own moon and expect to see God on a level with His own creation? He humbles Himself--He has to bend down--just to look at the things going on in heaven and earth. Ah! But He still is attentive to the cry of the humble. The rebuke Elihu gives Job was very fitting for me--"Do you think you are more just than God?" As I feel frustrated and cry out to God to know why He is doing some of what He is doing--a reminder that why isn't the point. The point is that He is right. So much wisdom! So much creativity. So much unanswerable sovereignty. Why'd He make the ostrich so dumb? It doesn't matter. That fact is that He did. And I LOVE all the scientific evidence in Job--that the earth was round...that the equater existed...that the heavens are stretching farther and farther apart...the science of ice...that lightening strikes one spot...the tides...I needed to just be reminded that God is completely out of my mental range of understanding and that He can't be far from me because I can't escape Him. I'll confess that, in the secret places of my heart, I've felt very lost and unfocused for the last several months. Like I've been caught in a time warp--not really connected to the present in this world, yet so distant from a God who does such things as I can't grasp. They hurt. They don't make sense. They seem pointless. They seem wasteful. I know that He is big and it is His prerogative to do what He wishes. And I know His purpose is His eternal glory. And it seems that small humans can wrestle and struggle and cry and plead to learn something from them, but really? Was it really necessary? Sure He can use them...but did He have to send them? That's when Elihu's rebuke spoke to me. Do I think I am more just than God? Because that is what my heart-cry implies. So much of what God holds up to Job as evidence of His power also seems pointless. Sending storms on deserts where no one even lives? Making the ostrich foolish--but impressive? Wait. Pointless? God used it to declare His power--and man's frailty. And I've felt distant because I don't even know what to pray, what to plead, what to ask that would be in keeping with His purposes. He isn't acting on my perception of ideal. I can worship Him as God. But I've felt distant from Him as my Lover. There is no difficulty honoring Him as Supreme, as He deserves. But He has seemed more terrible than beautiful, more righteous than merciful and more powerful than loving. Sometimes it is good to step back and recognize the Almighty as first and foremost that--Almighty. I am small. I am fragile. I am dying. And so I feel far from Him. Because He does not answer to me, or need my counsel, I feel at a loss for words, for thoughts, for emotions to know Him. But it is His power and His righteousness and the glory of His name that keeps me always under His care. Because He is huge He pursues me, not to destroy me in my weakness, but to strengthen and establish me.

Such is the stream of conscious tonight...

Suitable for me to feel small and fragile and helpless on a night such as this.

Friday, January 7, 2011

“Let the name of God be blessed forever and ever, for wisdom and power belong to Him. And it is He who changes the times and the epochs; He removes kings and establishes kings; He gives wisdom to wise men, and knowledge to men of understanding. It is He who reveals the profound and hidden things; He knows what is in the darkness, and the light dwells with Him.” ~Daniel 2:20-22

“Why don’t you save this for tomorrow breakfast?” Mom was talking about the breakfast I’d fixed this morning--an apple strueselish contraption the looked pretty appetizing. I hid a smile, knowing her reasoning. Josiah is coming home tonight and will be here tomorrow. An emptying nest is hard on this Mamma bird, and she’s excited about his visit.

I forgot how rapidly homeschool moms can talk. I hope I didn’t sign myself up for something I will regret. We've not been involved with the local homeschool group since moving here, but my sparse local connections include some of the “head” ladies. In the past I’d been asked to consider teaching a coop class or two, and was recently reminded of this option. I’m afraid to confess that I just agreed to teach some Creative Writing classes later in the Spring. I’ll be using the curriculum I wrote for past classes, which settles my nerves. I felt like a snowplow, trying to get through details with the lady who heads up the coop. Just press through. When she takes a breath, I get the opportunity to ask another pertinent question or clarify exactly what I AM offering and am NOT. But it takes determination and stamina to get the info I need and be sure she has the info she really needs, too. I'd actually like to do a more serious Public Speaking class--maybe from home, but I'll have to stew a bit more on that. I never would have guessed, ten years ago, just how valuable public speaking skills would prove to be, in so many moments of my life. Even just the aspects of learning to communicate clearly and concisely, controlling eye contact and facial expressions and gaining poise have been invaluable. Especially for an introvert like moi.

“So, guess who won!” Mom sounded pretty tickled over the crackly cell-phone connection. She and Papa had just made their scrap metal deposit at the metal-recycling facility. If I’m not very much mistaken, it was my far-out I-have-no-idea-so-I’m-saying-something-extravagant which came closest to the bull’s eye. Almost $150 for a trailer load of junk.

Damaris messaged me today. “I just read ‘Created to be His Helpmeet’ for single women and I want to talk! When can I call you?” I chuckled and then sighed. Chuckled, because Damaris makes me chuckle. And I’m impressed! She must have devoured the book which, for a girl who doesn’t like to read, is pretty impressive. And I sigh, because I don’t really have anything to say on the subject. I’m tired of talking about marriage. Or singleness, really. I just want to be back in the place I was a year ago, blissfully oblivious, cheerfully racing along, clear-minded and undistracted. But, says the Preacher in Ecclesiastes, “Do not say the former days were better than these, for it is not from wisdom that you say this.”

Daniel yielded me some profound encouragement today as I started over again. Praise from the prophet's lips before he revealed the king's dream. "Let the name of God be blessed forever and ever, for wisdom and power belong to Him. And it is He who changes the times and the epochs; He removes kings and establishes kings; He gives wisdom to wise men, and knowledge to men of understanding. It is He who reveals the profound and hidden things; He knows what is in the darkness and the light dwells with Him. To Thee, O God of my fathers, I give thanks and praise, for Thou hast given me wisdom and power; Even now Thou hast made known to me what we requested of Thee, for Thou hast made known to us the king's matter." I just found it encouraging to be reminded of the power with which God revealed to Daniel and to be reminded that this is the same God of whom James writes "If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God who gives to all men generously and without reproach and it will be given him." My heart is so heavy these days, lost in the weight of a situation that appears irreconcilable. I feel like I've seen a lot of these lately, and it makes me tremble. Because there are times when I am desperately trying to simply do what is right, but when I feel like others will perceive me as deluded and cruel or when it seems I am standing alone. Sometimes we stand alone for what is right. But sometimes we stand alone because we are self-deceived, self-motivated, arrogant and selfish. What if I am the one deceived? And so I've been pleading with the Lord for convictions seasoned with humility. I must stand and do and defend what I believe is right. Yet with grace. Yet with humility. Yet with an open heart. I must be willing to be mistaken. I could be blind.

Oh Yahweh! Give me wisdom’s light

To seek and know and do what’s right.

Give me the strength and desperate need

To pray, and weep, and beg and plead.

Give me a mind that understands

Both waiting and Thy active plans.
Give me a heart of praise for Thee

When Thou reveals Thy ways to me.

Thursday, January 6, 2011

t has seemed good to me to declare the signs and wonders which the Most High God has done for me. How great are His signs, and how mighty are His wonders! His kingdom is an everlasting kingdom, and His dominion is from generation to generation.” ~Daniel 4:2-3

One man’s trash is another man’s treasure, they say. Whoever they are. Today we scavenged up every scrap of metal that we don’t need and sorted it into piles of aluminum, steel, brass and copper. I drove the pick-up to Travis’ and backed it right up to his trailer. From there, I was more than willing to let Papa take over. Trailer hauling is NOT one of my specialties. Between the four of us, we loaded an old, boat hull that has been out in the woods since before our time. A deer blind, perhaps?

"Abigail,” Mom’s voice broke into the celestial realm of my thought-world as I absently scooped up supper leftovers and rushed them into the refrigerator. “Come here. I want to show you something." Translation: "I know you are absent-minded and will never remember this conversation if I don't jolt you out of your own mind and make you pay special attention to this very important instruction I have." I shoved the last dish in the refrigerator and came over to where she pointed at the edge of the sink. "See this soggy raisin?"

I cracked up. Because I knew exactly what she was going to say.

She tossed me a funny look before continuing, "I pulled it out of the drain and put it here to use to re-bait my mousetrap and I don't want you to throw it away while you're cleaning up."

I about toppled laughing. That's exactly what I knew she would say, but it struck me as hilarious that she went to the effort, not only of salvaging the raisin, but of getting my attention and carefully instructing me about the purpose of this single soggy raisin. Can you imagine the lecture I’d have endured had I swept that soggy raisin into the sink and dumped it with the compost? Ah, this is my mother. So frugal. Not just to save the raisin, but to jealously guard it from potential disaster, even taking great effort to be sure to capture my elusive attention. This, folks, is why we own our home and all our cars. And why my dad is able to go back to school at fifty-six with no worries and no payments. I think I had tears creasing my cheeks. Mom’s a good sport; soon she was laughing at herself, too.

I began reading Daniel today. I’ve been debating whether to start reading straight through the Word again, or simply to go book-by-book as I have been. For now, at least, book-by-book won out. Some days I read chapters only to stop, at the end, wondering what I even read. What am I to do with what I read? Where do I find what I need to keep going? Where do I find the answers I need to keep my life focused and moving toward the Lord? Where do I find the food I need to keep growing. Stale, I could call myself. And it disgusts me. I want to be vibrant, verdant and growing, like the tree planted by streams of water.

Lord, I crave Thy blessed pathway

In Thy Word I want find

All that Thou would have me doing

With my heart, my mind, my time.

Quiet me and teach my spirit,

Through the Spirit Thou hast sent

That I’d understand Thy purpose

For my earthly flesh—this tent.

Wednesday, January 5, 2011

Before we can pray, "Lord, Thy Kingdom come," we must be willing to pray, "My Kingdom go." ~Alan Redpath

If there’s to be any drama in the house these days, I have to invent it. I never realized just how much Josiah was the life of the party.

Sometimes heroes fade into the past, not only in history, but also in my mind. Once upon a time, when the first flush of vision struck me, and when I was still wrestling with trying to make sense of it, I read every book about inner city missions I could find. As the vision matured in my teens, latching onto orphans and orphanages, I embraced singleness whole-heartedly and gathered biographies of Gladys Alward and Amy Carmichael. Slowly, time and circumstance and conviction eroded away the larger parts of those dreams, but a few of the books remain on my shelf. Lydia had been reading Amy’s biography, reminding me of anecdotes and events. And I have to confess, blushing as I do, that I think she might have been better balanced had she married. Still, every one of us has feet of clay. And the Lord used her work in a special way.

The story that struck me most was her account of one of her girls, young and simple, who gave her theological rendering of Satan’s fall. “In the beginning,” began Leela in unctuous tones, ‘the bad devil was good. He was an angel. He lived in heaven. One day all the angels came to sing to God. Then the devil was angry. He got angrier and angrier. He was very rude to God.” Here Leela seemed to freeze all over, and her voice sounded quite deep and awful. Irreverence was far from her intention. “That bad, bad devil said, ‘I won’t stand before God’s chair anymore, and I won’t sing to God anymore. I want to sit in God’s chair, and I want God to sing to me!’” There was a perfectly horrified pause, as the enormity of the transgression became evident. “So God took him and tumbled him down out of heaven and he was turned into the bad devil.” (A Chance to Die, pg. 192)

And there we have it. That simple declaration of the heart of idolatry. And a description that does, I am afraid, all to often fit me. Because even as I wrestled with dreams of inner city missions, I wanted to sit in God’s chair. And as I embraced singleness, I wanted God to sing to me. I wanted to do things my way and in my time instead of simply worshiping God. As I was created to do.

Tonight I sit and look back on the years of frustration and confusion, of wrestling and weeping, unable to really understand what are the passions in my heart and what must be done with them. All the moments that pierced me, the nights of insanity, the days of longing. The opportunities that were still-born, the years when nothing happened and the painful chiseling and reshaping. They weren’t meant to uproot the desires to help the orphan or to serve the poor or to save the perishing. They were meant to uproot uglier things that grew alongside those purer desires. Still do. Self-reliance. Impatience. Rejection of the mundane. Discontentment. Selfishness.

How often must I be brought to the place of repentance for my lack of trust? As often as I try to ascend the throne and dispense justice.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

“Oh Yahweh, who may abide in Thy tent? Who may dwell in Thy holy hill? He who walks with integrity, and works righteousness, and speaks truth in his heart.” ~Psalm 15:1-2

“Are you purging again?” Lydia groaned, standing in our bedroom doorway. “You’re always purging. Don’t touch my stuff.”

First, my defense: that’s an exaggeration. I’m not always purging. Quite. I have been trashing and getting rid of rather a lot lately. Well, I think it’s a disease I caught several years ago that has just been growing in intensity. I just don’t like stuff. It makes me feel tied down. Heavy. Like being fifty pounds overweight. But don’t worry. I’m not obsessive. I still have a bed. And a few keep-sakes. And a box of old letters from friends. Yes, the keep sakes and old letters are fewer than they used to be, but still.

Second, my confession: I was purging. I was cleaning out my file cabinet and trashing old documentation that I simply don’t need. I hadn’t meant to start purging. I was actually looking for the files of writing and speech classes that I’d taught and noticed that, well, there were a lot of other files full of papers that I really didn’t need.

Oh yeah! And third: I wasn’t purging Lydia’s stuff. Although I probably could do a splendid job of it, if she’d ever let me.

Among one poor, neglected file of awards and accomplishments, I discovered a couple of pages from 1994. My baptism request, submitted to the elders of Topeka Bible Church, and a letter from a dear, old lady in the congregation, encouraging me afterwards. Both made me chuckle. The baptism request was filled out in Papa’s handwriting, but there was no doubt as to the originality of the word choice. My favorite verse? Psalm 15 which we were memorizing as a family at the time and which was a very important Psalm to me, since I wanted to dwell in the hill of the Lord. And my testimony? It went like this: “When I was 4 I heard my Mom and Nathaniel talking about his baptism. Then I decided to ask Jesus into my heart—to take control. I’ve been happier ever since. Now I don’t wish that I had everything that I don’t have.” Signed with my full name.

A covetous little urchin, apparently.

But even those simple little words brought conviction to me. I decided to let Jesus take control. And I’ve been battling to do the same every day since. And the words of Psalm 15 came back to mind, still firmly embedded in my memory, and still shaping the measure to which I hold myself. And fall short. The one who may dwell with Yahweh is the one who walks with integrity, works righteousness and speaks truth in his heart…he swears to his own hurt and does not change. I remember how aware I was of the necessity to be righteous before God and my inability to achieve it. That’s why I needed Jesus to take control.

Sometimes I forget the simplicity of the truth that I so clearly grasped when my mind and life were so much simpler.

“Now I don’t wish that I had everything that I don’t have.”

Right now I wish I had contentment. And trust. And integrity.

Because I don’t have them.

And I should.

Lord, who may stand before Thy throne,
Or dare to call Thy temple home?
For all of us have missed the mark
And stand before Thee, naked, stark.
Integrity, we don’t possess,
Our hearts are home to wickedness.
Our tongues speak evil, greed and pride.
Our fig-leaf works can never hide
Our desecration of Thy name,
And so we hang our heads in shame.
Yet this Thou dost, for broken man,
Thou broke Thyself to make us stand,
Thy holy name and grace to bless,
Enrobed in spotless righteousness.

Monday, January 3, 2011

“Sow with a view to righteousness, reap in accordance with kindness; break up your fallow ground, for it is time to seek Yahweh, until He comes to rain righteousness on you.” ~Hosea 10:12

“Come look at this,” the Papa of my dream said. The we of my dream crowded around him as he showed us a facebook profile picture of Dathan…and a blue-eyed blond girl. It was definitely not Freckles. Every morning I wake up remembering very normal-seeming dreams. Very convincing normal-seeming dreams. What is this new phenomenon?

My dream wouldn’t be entirely ridiculous, considering what I see every time I do sign into facebook. As Jacinda put it, “Spring is in the air. Early.” It’s not just the young crop, but now I think all the signature singles are finally tying the knot, leaving room for the next generation of signature singles. That would be me and Jacinda, since our friends are rapidly forsaking us. Tsk, tsk.

In other news, Lydia handed me down a pair of shoes and we traded jeans.

My mind is still on vacation. I struggled to recapture it and get in gear as I sat down with Rosa for our ESL lesson. We’re working through the first book, which really is below her. Mostly. She always knows far more vocabulary than we have, but we’re working on pronunciation and learning grammar as we go. I try to get her warmed up with some easy words and exercises, then let her read a bit and work into some conversation last. I’ll ask her questions to step her through a conversation with me and then I write down what she has told me and let her copy it. It’s a fun way to get to know her while working her toward being able to converse with others. I had no idea that she lived on a little farm of sorts. With a cow and a calf. They are going to eat him, she told me. Poor boy. Her sense of humor is charming. She named her sheep dogs Kirby and Kirbina. Next week, she tells me, she wants to work on prepositions. I think I swallowed more air than I could hold before answering, “Okay.” Prepositions?! How will I ever explain and teach prepositions?

Lydia helped me wrestle the furniture back into the clinic counseling rooms Emily and I painted over the break. Big ideas are undoubtedly my specialty, and I have a million of them in mind for “modernizing” the look of the clinic. If only I existed in three persons.

“I have a baby bump,” my regular client beamed, standing up as I entered the waiting room. “Look at you!” Sure enough, she’d bubbled out while I was gone. I learn all the interesting maternity tricks from my clients. Like using a rubber band to allow for more waist room or sucking mint candies first thing in the morning to help with morning sickness.

Our new year regrouping meeting stretched on as we caught up and refocused on a new year and new goals. Sherry bounced ideas and thoughts off of us, encouraging us to think of ways to restructure the Earn While You Learn curriculum to really get single moms on their feet and refocused and to change lives. We’d like to figure out a better way to disciple girls who say they want to follow the Lord. And we’d like to be getting girls off of welfare and preparing them to have healthy families someday. My mind felt like scrambled spaghetti as I listened. I’m there, one hundred percent, on the “we need to” end. But how? How do you help someone change their life if they aren’t interested in changing? And, obviously, only God can truly change lives.

The year has just begun and already I feel numb. Overwhelmed. “How?” echoes down the hallway of my intellect. I see the goal and I see the present. In between lies a yawning chasm of human weakness.

And. Well. God spanned the infinite chasm between God and man. And that is how. He can do whatever He pleases. He will be great and greatly magnified.

Praise Him.

What seems to man a senseless plan
Is wisdom vast and deep
For man must rest his weary head
In God, who does not sleep.
What seems to man a worthless lamb
Is that the Shepherd seeks
Because the cross is for the lost
God’s strength is for the weak.
What seems to man a senseless plan
Is mercy vast and deep
When that same man can understand
That he is Christ’s lost sheep.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Apart from God every activity is merely a passing whiff of insignificance. ~Alfred North Whitehead

This year started so quietly, creeping in as we slept. Well, it did creep in as we slept. And then it wasn’t so quiet. Just after midnight, Papa trooped into our room, shining a flashlight, saying, “Happy New Year! Is your window rattling? Did you hear fireworks? Something is terribly noisy.” I hadn’t heard it, but I sat up and groggily tried to give him many returns. Lydia mumbled something and rolled over.

At breakfast the next morning, Lydia commented, “Last night I dreamed that Papa came into our room with a gun and a flashlight.”

Church this morning was a quiet affair with only Nick and Kirby gathered around our tiny dining room table. I guess tiny is only in comparison to the monstrous slab that we sold just before Christmas.

Two days in, and all is well. Or quiet, at least.

I remember the first New Year after moving to Arkansas. I looked back and thought, “Wow. That was the hardest three months of my life. Scratch that. That three months was harder than the rest of my life.”

That might as well have been a century ago.

Excuse me for a moment while I get nostalgic and misty-eyed.

In fact, January of last year feels like a life-time ago.

Last year started out so quietly, so peacefully—even more so than this year. And then, it exploded. And nearly all of it is a blank page in the annals of my past. Such irretrievable loss. It leaves me no visible excuse for my serious case of insanity.

Okay. I’m done.

Saturday, January 1, 2011

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.

Sunday, December 19, 2010

I claim I am Yours,
Yet I act like my own.
I say that I know You
Yet if I were known
With the depth that I offer
(Of which I am proud)
My sensitive nature’d
Be shouting aloud
That we were still strangers—
Still heart-years apart.
Is that how You feel
In the depth of Your heart?

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.