Happy Mother's day to all those mamas out there! I heard a little phrase the other day that I thought really captured what we mamas need: "grit and grace." We need a boatload of grit on those long hard days when the routine chores seem to pile up, the patience quota seems to dip perilously low, and exhaustion and discouragement threaten to swamp our resolve and love. On those days, we need to ask the Lord for grit to finish the day strong, somehow, someway. We need to pause and ask the God of all grace for His grit and grace just for that day, that hour, to be the mothers He has called us--and will enable us--to be.
So often our problem is not so much lacking the grit and grace for the long day we are dealing with today. Rather, it's anticipating how on earth we will face and endure the long, hard day tomorrow or next week or in the months to come. But God does not give us tomorrow's grace today. He gives us today's manna for today's needs and calls us to trust that His mercies are new every morning and that He will not fail us tomorrow or next week or next year. We worry that we may not have what it takes when our children are toddlers or teenagers or young adults. But worry just saps us of the strength God has given us for today and does nothing to empower and enable us tomorrow. As one old English proverb put it: "Worry is carrying tomorrow's burden with today's strength." We can't do it. Never could. Never will.
But He is always sufficient for today's burdens. He is the eternal "I Am"--always able, always faithful, always infinite in His grace and grit for our every need today. And then tomorrow, the eternal I Am will be just as infinitely gracious and powerful and perfect and present for our needs for that day. The question is, will we trust Him? Will we trust that He will meet tomorrow's needs and burdens? Do we trust that He will cause the sun to rise tomorrow morning? Do we trust that our eyes will open the next day to see what needs to be done and that our mouths will open to speak and our hands will move and work to be busy about our day?
I love Eugene Peterson's translation of Hebrews 12:1-2: "Do you see what this means--all these pioneers who blazed the way, all these veterans cheering us on? It means we'd better get on with it. Strip down, start running--and never quit! No extra spiritual fat, no parasitic sins. Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished the race we're in."
That's it! Look unto Jesus! Strip down all that bloat of busyness, all those sinful distractions that keep our eyes from following the Savior. Determine that no matter what, you will spend time daily fixing your gaze upon the Savior who has already run the race and is cheering you on and enabling you to run your race in His strength. But you have to start running and refuse to quit!
I've only run one marathon in my life, and, brother, it was brutal. I started out great and thought how glorious all this was... until I "hit the wall" around mile 22 or so. Just 4 miles to go, and after all the running I had been doing, that should have been nothing, but, good grief, I was just totally spent, desperately exhausted, and utterly discouraged. I remember hoping I would sprain my ankle so I could quit!
But I didn't quit. No way, not after all those months of training and preparation. I just kept putting one foot in front of the other and keep plugging along--very very slowly, but nonetheless, still moving forward towards the finish line. And somehow, by the grace of God (and the grace of my sweet sisters jogging along beside me in their regular clothes and their purses banging on their sides as they ran!), I finished the race. Alleluia!
If ever there was a marathon of a race, it's motherhood! Whew, I get tired just thinking about it! But I learned in running those races when I was younger (much much younger!) you gotta keep your eyes focused ahead and keep running. Don't waste time and effort looking around at your competitors. Don't worry about the other lanes. Stop comparing and contrasting. And whatever you do, don't quit! Just keep running and looking towards the finish line. As Eugene Peterson put it, it's that "long obedience in the same direction." Keep looking unto Jesus and trusting that He who put you in the race will give you the strength to to finish strong.
And He will. He always always always will! So happy mother's day! Keep fixing your focus on Jesus and keep running with grit and grace, trusting that He will carry you all the way to the finish line. To the God of all grit and grace, be all the glory.
Sunday, May 13, 2012
Friday, May 11, 2012
The Last Grandparents Day
We celebrated our final "Grandparents/Special Friends Day" in elementary school today. How many have we enjoyed over the years, I wonder? So many, so gloriously many. I well remember taking my parents and my husband's parents to the very first one at Root Elementary when our oldest daughter was in first grade. Their smiling picture rests on a table in our den today. So many years ago--17 years, I believe. And we've been going ever since, with each precious child the Lord has given us. 17 years of memories, 17 years of handmade love gifts from lopsided ceramic birds to popsicle frames to brightly colored paintings. 17 years of lunches and visiting and laughing after the big event, 17 years of joy.
Those 17 years brought many changes--some wonderful, some sorrowful. Some years we had new little ones to add to the chaos and fun, new babies to hold and coo over and remark that "he looks just like his grandaddy!" or "her eyes are just like grandmamas!" Some years maybe it was a new home or a new job or a new pet or a new tooth to rejoice over and discuss.
But there were years like that first one after my dear Mama died, and Daddy, already ill with cancer, came without her--that was hard, bittersweet, but yet precious. To see his sweetness and his love for his grandchildren, even in his grief over losing such a vibrant, irreplaceable chunk of his heart, well, I'll never forget it. By the next Grandparents Day, Daddy had gone home to be with the Lord, joyously united forever with Mama, but leaving us to struggle that day as the hole left by them both seemed impossibly vast, never to be filled.
Yet, God always fills those empty places in our lives--maybe not in the same way, maybe always leaving a scar, but with His boundless grace that makes all things new and beautiful in their time. And so we soldiered on, enjoying the blessings of my husband's dear parents and at least one of my wonderful sisters coming for each Grandparents/Special Friends Day. Every year, with every child, some years having to cover several children on the same day in a fun frenzy. The years seem to stretch on and on.
Until today. The last one. Our youngest child "graduates" from lower school to middle school at the end of this month, and so suddenly all those years of Grandparents and my sisters and eating lunches and holding babies and dropping off at school and picking up and reminding of teacher's names and classmates' names and taking pictures of smiling faces at school... impossibly and suddenly finished.
It's so trite, but so true: where on earth did all those years go? Did we appreciate every single one of them enough? Did we see how precious, how never-to-be-repeated each one was? Did we see each for the irreplaceable gift that it was? Surely not, for none of us ever fully lives every single moment of our lives, never fully loves each priceless person in our lives, never fully experiences the gift of the "precious present" as we should. We try, but we're human, and we just can't.
We're too often focused on the next thing, the next day, the next problem, the next item on the to-do list, the next goal, to realize that life right now, right at this very moment is challenging and wonderful and glorious and passing by all too quickly. Often, it's not until it's over that we begin to appreciate the extravagant blessing of our loved ones, of each of our moments, of the simplest of our daily blessings of family, of work, of daily bread, of God's creation, of friends, of strength, of sight and smell and touch, of laughter, of tears.
Isn't it funny how the monotonous or the routine can dull us to the extraordinary blessings behind the routine? If the sun rose in all it's glory only every once and a while, we would be astounded at the wonder of it all--at the colors, at the fresh new start, at the new light and hope illuminating the morning! If we rarely glimpsed our baby's smile or heard our child's singing or hugged our sister, we would be overwhelmed with the astounding joy of it all. Folding the laundry and changing diapers and running carpools and cleaning the kitchen become luminously infused with the sacred when we recognize the irreplaceable loved ones prompting each duty and act of love. Loved ones who will not be with us forever and so must be appreciated and known and loved today, the only day we really have.
And so I thank You Lord for each and every Grandparents/Special Friends Day for the past 17 years. Thank You for the gift of children, of parents, of sisters and brothers, of husbands, of wives. Thank You for the gift of dedicated teachers and schools. Thank You for our problems for they drive us to You, and thank You for our blessings that remind us of Your goodness and grace. Thank You for love and laughter and life--and for the gift of living each day, one at a time, never to be repeated and never to be taken for granted.
Thank You most of all, Lord Jesus, for one day entering our time--our limited time of days and hours and minutes--as a helpless newborn baby. Thank You for laying aside Your infinite glory and honor and power and taking on our frail flesh and moving into our messy neighborhoods and teaching us what it is to love and live each day to the glory of God. And thank You, thank You, thank You, for saving us and giving us the gift of eternal life so that our days of worship and wonder will go on and on and on, no limitations, no losses. Only Love. Forever. To our Savior, our Lord of time and eternity, be all the glory forever and ever.
Those 17 years brought many changes--some wonderful, some sorrowful. Some years we had new little ones to add to the chaos and fun, new babies to hold and coo over and remark that "he looks just like his grandaddy!" or "her eyes are just like grandmamas!" Some years maybe it was a new home or a new job or a new pet or a new tooth to rejoice over and discuss.
But there were years like that first one after my dear Mama died, and Daddy, already ill with cancer, came without her--that was hard, bittersweet, but yet precious. To see his sweetness and his love for his grandchildren, even in his grief over losing such a vibrant, irreplaceable chunk of his heart, well, I'll never forget it. By the next Grandparents Day, Daddy had gone home to be with the Lord, joyously united forever with Mama, but leaving us to struggle that day as the hole left by them both seemed impossibly vast, never to be filled.
Yet, God always fills those empty places in our lives--maybe not in the same way, maybe always leaving a scar, but with His boundless grace that makes all things new and beautiful in their time. And so we soldiered on, enjoying the blessings of my husband's dear parents and at least one of my wonderful sisters coming for each Grandparents/Special Friends Day. Every year, with every child, some years having to cover several children on the same day in a fun frenzy. The years seem to stretch on and on.
Until today. The last one. Our youngest child "graduates" from lower school to middle school at the end of this month, and so suddenly all those years of Grandparents and my sisters and eating lunches and holding babies and dropping off at school and picking up and reminding of teacher's names and classmates' names and taking pictures of smiling faces at school... impossibly and suddenly finished.
It's so trite, but so true: where on earth did all those years go? Did we appreciate every single one of them enough? Did we see how precious, how never-to-be-repeated each one was? Did we see each for the irreplaceable gift that it was? Surely not, for none of us ever fully lives every single moment of our lives, never fully loves each priceless person in our lives, never fully experiences the gift of the "precious present" as we should. We try, but we're human, and we just can't.
We're too often focused on the next thing, the next day, the next problem, the next item on the to-do list, the next goal, to realize that life right now, right at this very moment is challenging and wonderful and glorious and passing by all too quickly. Often, it's not until it's over that we begin to appreciate the extravagant blessing of our loved ones, of each of our moments, of the simplest of our daily blessings of family, of work, of daily bread, of God's creation, of friends, of strength, of sight and smell and touch, of laughter, of tears.
Isn't it funny how the monotonous or the routine can dull us to the extraordinary blessings behind the routine? If the sun rose in all it's glory only every once and a while, we would be astounded at the wonder of it all--at the colors, at the fresh new start, at the new light and hope illuminating the morning! If we rarely glimpsed our baby's smile or heard our child's singing or hugged our sister, we would be overwhelmed with the astounding joy of it all. Folding the laundry and changing diapers and running carpools and cleaning the kitchen become luminously infused with the sacred when we recognize the irreplaceable loved ones prompting each duty and act of love. Loved ones who will not be with us forever and so must be appreciated and known and loved today, the only day we really have.
And so I thank You Lord for each and every Grandparents/Special Friends Day for the past 17 years. Thank You for the gift of children, of parents, of sisters and brothers, of husbands, of wives. Thank You for the gift of dedicated teachers and schools. Thank You for our problems for they drive us to You, and thank You for our blessings that remind us of Your goodness and grace. Thank You for love and laughter and life--and for the gift of living each day, one at a time, never to be repeated and never to be taken for granted.
Thank You most of all, Lord Jesus, for one day entering our time--our limited time of days and hours and minutes--as a helpless newborn baby. Thank You for laying aside Your infinite glory and honor and power and taking on our frail flesh and moving into our messy neighborhoods and teaching us what it is to love and live each day to the glory of God. And thank You, thank You, thank You, for saving us and giving us the gift of eternal life so that our days of worship and wonder will go on and on and on, no limitations, no losses. Only Love. Forever. To our Savior, our Lord of time and eternity, be all the glory forever and ever.
Wednesday, May 9, 2012
Motherhood at DEFCON 1
It started out with so much promise, this fine day. Sure, I had plenty on my plate and prayed, as I often do, that somehow the Lord would enable me to accomplish it all--or at least all that He wanted me to do (a pretty enormous distinction, actually). And things were going along nicely: time with the Lord, dog walked, exercise finished, children's rooms cleaned up, waffles made (homemade! Take that, Martha Stewart!), laundry started, kitchen cleaned, Target run completed, and now, at 11:00 visiting a dear friend and her newish baby. I already had the lengthy to-list firmly implanted in my mind and was off to the races, when my cell phone rang. Maybe I should change my ring-tone to that computer voice from "Lost in Space"-- "Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!" Mine might say, "Danger, Old Girl, Answer at your own peril! Danger!"
Sure enough, it was DEFCON 1. One of my children--who shall remain nameless--called and was frantic, a bit accusatory, as if somehow this were partly my fault--and breathlessly semi-shouted that she had locked the keys in her car and class was starting in 5 minutes and she HAD HAD HAD to have the stuff in the car and this was disastrous and terrible and awful and wretched and we needed to call AAA NOW NOW NOW, or preferably 10 minutes ago, and get her car unlocked NOW and I gotta go. Click. That is a fairly accurate translation--minus the hysteria. Motherhood.
Gee whiz, a moment earlier I had been holding a precious little cooing 5 month old baby and now I had been hurled into adolescent hyperspace with my teeth on edge and my hands gripping the steering wheel like a vise. Now that I think of it, I think I may have been clutching that steering wheel the same way I held on for dear life on that horrific roller coaster ride at Williamsburg that my children (and my friend JoAnna) shamed me into riding. The same head pounding, stomach twisting, panicked-hysteria. The things we do for our children.
My lovely day of getting a lot of chores accomplished, cleaning out clutter, catching up on some notes, laundry, reading the Word, and writing... well, instead I raced to Broughton High School to await the AAA guy to come unlock the car of the-child-who-shall-not-be-named and then somehow or other get the keys to him/her (don't want to give away anything here--but if you know my family, well then, you totally know whom I'm talking about). The fellow in the tow truck raced down the strip where all the high schoolers cars are parked, and I hope to heavens no high school kids were watching or my children may have to transfer, but I jumped out of the car and went running down the strip trying to catch him and yelling, "Hey, hey, right here!! Stop! It's me!"
Yes, go ahead and laugh. Dignity is the middle name for all us mothers. We get used to wearing baby spit-up on our tee shirts or eating left-over chicken nuggets from our children's plates or having dark circles under our eyes or wearing the same dirty socks from yesterday or frantically yelling our child's name in Target or concealing that ever so slight pouch in our stomachs. Or running down a strip of cars full of high schoolers.
After managing to stop the very nice but speeding tow truck guy (how about "You go, girl" right here! Yes, again, we mamas can stop speeding tow trucks!), we calmly proceeded to the parking lot to her.... NO CAR!!! O my stars! If there was a DEFCON Negative 1, this would be it! My child was now in class and the tow truck fella looked at me like I was an insane middle-aged out-of-it mom... which I was and am proud of it, too. I frantically texted my child nice calm things like "NO CAR!!! WHERE IS THE CAR!! NEED TO KNOW NOW!!" And a mili-second later, "CAR! WHERE IS THE CAR?!!" hmm, wondering where she gets if from? I'm guessing the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
As the increasingly irritated tow truck guy glared at me, my child called me back and told me that it was parked in front of a fast food place at the nearby shopping center (upper classmen can eat off campus lunch). Somehow I had missed that small detail in the middle of the DEFCON 1 rant. Sigh. So the long-suffering, now probably irate, tow truck guy and I race over to the shopping center--at lunchtime mind you--to find her car. We drive around a bit amidst heavy traffic and, when we finally locate it, there are, of course, no parking spaces within a 10 mile radius. This guy surely despised me by now. But I wasn't thinking very lovely and kind thoughts about my-child-who-shall-not-be-named either. But I'm a mother, so I soldier on, undaunted and determined to get those keys.
You're probably already tired of reading this scintillating tale, so suffice it to say, we finally got the car unlocked--even though I had to double park with my lights flashing for a minute or two and had to do another run for the roses in another crowded parking lot, only this time with adults staring at me. I'm pretty sure they were sending the shopping center security after me--but I raced off in the nick of time, triumphant with car keys in hand! The thrill of victory!
And now, I sit and smile at another memory of what it means to be a mom. All those sappy hallmark cards and tear jerker commercials? Ha! Just once, I wish they would show a real mom--frazzled, exhausted, overwhelmed, discouraged, anxious, but also excited, joyous, proud, blessed, grateful beyond all reason. Thankful--even for the DEFCON 1 phone calls. Thankful even when the laundry piles up or the mail piles up or the tears pile up. Thankful even when the days are long... for the years are short. Thankful even with the mess and the noise and the ingratitude and the daily grind. For each of our children truly are priceless, infinitely treasured gifts from an extravagant Father. They are loaned to us for an all too short time, and, O, how we love them, even when they make us crazy. For they also make us want to be better than we are: to love more unselfishly, to speak with more kindness, to be wiser and stronger and holier. They drive us to our knees... and that is the best place in the world to be, with our gracious, glorious, all powerful Heavenly Father.
He knows what it feels like to have sometimes ungrateful, clueless children--but children forever beloved and precious beyond all reason. And He knows what it is to love unconditionally... He sent His Son, His only perfect Son, to prove it forever and to save us from our sins and from ourselves. What a Father. What a Savior. What a Love. Help me to love like You love, Father. I might be tired and frazzled and frantic, but I am Yours. And my children--they are Yours too. Thank You for the inestimable gift of children. All your gifts are so infinitely good and all are evidence of Your amazing grace. For every single one, we simply say, "Thank You, Lord." To God, our perfect, loving, saving, sovereign Father, be all the glory.
Sure enough, it was DEFCON 1. One of my children--who shall remain nameless--called and was frantic, a bit accusatory, as if somehow this were partly my fault--and breathlessly semi-shouted that she had locked the keys in her car and class was starting in 5 minutes and she HAD HAD HAD to have the stuff in the car and this was disastrous and terrible and awful and wretched and we needed to call AAA NOW NOW NOW, or preferably 10 minutes ago, and get her car unlocked NOW and I gotta go. Click. That is a fairly accurate translation--minus the hysteria. Motherhood.
Gee whiz, a moment earlier I had been holding a precious little cooing 5 month old baby and now I had been hurled into adolescent hyperspace with my teeth on edge and my hands gripping the steering wheel like a vise. Now that I think of it, I think I may have been clutching that steering wheel the same way I held on for dear life on that horrific roller coaster ride at Williamsburg that my children (and my friend JoAnna) shamed me into riding. The same head pounding, stomach twisting, panicked-hysteria. The things we do for our children.
My lovely day of getting a lot of chores accomplished, cleaning out clutter, catching up on some notes, laundry, reading the Word, and writing... well, instead I raced to Broughton High School to await the AAA guy to come unlock the car of the-child-who-shall-not-be-named and then somehow or other get the keys to him/her (don't want to give away anything here--but if you know my family, well then, you totally know whom I'm talking about). The fellow in the tow truck raced down the strip where all the high schoolers cars are parked, and I hope to heavens no high school kids were watching or my children may have to transfer, but I jumped out of the car and went running down the strip trying to catch him and yelling, "Hey, hey, right here!! Stop! It's me!"
Yes, go ahead and laugh. Dignity is the middle name for all us mothers. We get used to wearing baby spit-up on our tee shirts or eating left-over chicken nuggets from our children's plates or having dark circles under our eyes or wearing the same dirty socks from yesterday or frantically yelling our child's name in Target or concealing that ever so slight pouch in our stomachs. Or running down a strip of cars full of high schoolers.
After managing to stop the very nice but speeding tow truck guy (how about "You go, girl" right here! Yes, again, we mamas can stop speeding tow trucks!), we calmly proceeded to the parking lot to her.... NO CAR!!! O my stars! If there was a DEFCON Negative 1, this would be it! My child was now in class and the tow truck fella looked at me like I was an insane middle-aged out-of-it mom... which I was and am proud of it, too. I frantically texted my child nice calm things like "NO CAR!!! WHERE IS THE CAR!! NEED TO KNOW NOW!!" And a mili-second later, "CAR! WHERE IS THE CAR?!!" hmm, wondering where she gets if from? I'm guessing the apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
As the increasingly irritated tow truck guy glared at me, my child called me back and told me that it was parked in front of a fast food place at the nearby shopping center (upper classmen can eat off campus lunch). Somehow I had missed that small detail in the middle of the DEFCON 1 rant. Sigh. So the long-suffering, now probably irate, tow truck guy and I race over to the shopping center--at lunchtime mind you--to find her car. We drive around a bit amidst heavy traffic and, when we finally locate it, there are, of course, no parking spaces within a 10 mile radius. This guy surely despised me by now. But I wasn't thinking very lovely and kind thoughts about my-child-who-shall-not-be-named either. But I'm a mother, so I soldier on, undaunted and determined to get those keys.
You're probably already tired of reading this scintillating tale, so suffice it to say, we finally got the car unlocked--even though I had to double park with my lights flashing for a minute or two and had to do another run for the roses in another crowded parking lot, only this time with adults staring at me. I'm pretty sure they were sending the shopping center security after me--but I raced off in the nick of time, triumphant with car keys in hand! The thrill of victory!
And now, I sit and smile at another memory of what it means to be a mom. All those sappy hallmark cards and tear jerker commercials? Ha! Just once, I wish they would show a real mom--frazzled, exhausted, overwhelmed, discouraged, anxious, but also excited, joyous, proud, blessed, grateful beyond all reason. Thankful--even for the DEFCON 1 phone calls. Thankful even when the laundry piles up or the mail piles up or the tears pile up. Thankful even when the days are long... for the years are short. Thankful even with the mess and the noise and the ingratitude and the daily grind. For each of our children truly are priceless, infinitely treasured gifts from an extravagant Father. They are loaned to us for an all too short time, and, O, how we love them, even when they make us crazy. For they also make us want to be better than we are: to love more unselfishly, to speak with more kindness, to be wiser and stronger and holier. They drive us to our knees... and that is the best place in the world to be, with our gracious, glorious, all powerful Heavenly Father.
He knows what it feels like to have sometimes ungrateful, clueless children--but children forever beloved and precious beyond all reason. And He knows what it is to love unconditionally... He sent His Son, His only perfect Son, to prove it forever and to save us from our sins and from ourselves. What a Father. What a Savior. What a Love. Help me to love like You love, Father. I might be tired and frazzled and frantic, but I am Yours. And my children--they are Yours too. Thank You for the inestimable gift of children. All your gifts are so infinitely good and all are evidence of Your amazing grace. For every single one, we simply say, "Thank You, Lord." To God, our perfect, loving, saving, sovereign Father, be all the glory.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Robo Calls!
If I get one more "robo" call before this election, I think I'm gonna throw up! Seriously, these things just seem to proliferate like flies at a family reunion picnic--every year it gets worse and worse. Do people seriously listen to all these pre-recorded calls? I'll never forget the first time I got one of those calls a few years back and, boy, was I impressed! Wow, I thought, that is the actual President's voice on my answering machine!... well, and on a few hundred other million answering machines as well. But that was roughly 10,000 robo calls ago--I am no longer terribly impressed by the recorded voices of movie stars or political leaders or bill collectors on my phone. Been there, done that. As my wonderful Aunt Janie used to say when some poor, unknowing solicitor used to call her, "I'm not interested in that at all!" Click.
But I had to ask myself, is that how I'm demonstrating love first to my Savior and then to my family and friends and those God has so graciously placed in my life? Out of sheer busyness and preoccupation, do I sometimes (or often) "robo call" my time, my attention, my affection, my concern, my gratitude? Am I really present when I am with them, or are the lights on but nobody's home--cooking dinner, answering emails, contemplating my to-do list, worrying about one of my children, fretting over some matter and not really seeing or listening or loving the very ones with whom I most need and desire to pursue in meaningful, deep relationship. It's so easy to be shallow and quick and inattentive to those dearest to us in our relentless quest to get more things done and completed--even though, ironically, all those chores and accomplishments are most often for the very people we love and are somehow missing in our busyness and rush! We robo call those we most cherish while squandering our time and attention on all the other meaningless flotsam of life.
Or when we spend time with the Lord: how often do we "robo call" our Savior? Do we read the life-altering, life-sustaining supernatural Word of God as though we are doing our required summer reading for college? Just get it done and check it off our list... and tragically miss the Lord of the universe waiting in it's precious pages to speak to us, convict us, encourage us, change us, equip us? O forgive us, Father! We forfeit blessing upon blessing in our haste to get it done and move on to something more urgent and infinitely less important.
And, boy, how much we miss in our personal relationships when we do this! Truly, how often have you been swayed by a robo call? Me? Never! But, let me talk to my husband, or a dear friend, or one of my siblings, or a beloved child, and I am always impacted and inevitably caused to ponder and understand dilemmas or concerns in a new way. Love always causes us to be changed and challenged and comforted... but also, praise God, less conceited and self-concerned. But we have to be fully present and actively seeking to listen and empathize and encourage that other person. We can't put it on auto-pilot while we selfishly seek our own way and our own agenda.
I have been so convicted in reading through the Gospel of John--what an example from start to finish of the love of Christ--the sacrificial, perfect, sanctifying, unselfish love of the Savior. John outlived all the other disciples. And in Jerome's Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians, we are told: "When he [Apostle John] tarried at Ephesus to extreme old age, and could only with difficulty be carried to the church in the arms of his disciples, and was unable to give utterance to many words, he used to say no more at their several meetings, than this, 'Little children, love one another.' At length, the disciples and fathers who were there, wearied with always hearing the same words, said, 'Master, why dost thou always say this?' 'It is the Lord's command,' was his worthy reply, 'and if this alone be done, it is enough.'"
Amen! Read through the Gospel of John, and you will see an unrelentingly loving Savior--a Lord who loves to the uttermost and even to laying aside all the infinite glory and respect and honor due Him and gives His life for His own created beings (sinful and ungrateful though they be). And here is what He commands us: "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:34-35)
If you were taken to court for being a disciple of Christ, based upon this evidence of the way you love others, would there by enough evidence to convict? Do others know I am His by the way I love? Or do I look more like some frenzied, shallow follower who loves when it's convenient or comfortable? O Lord, You who loved so infinitely much, help me to follow closely in Your footsteps and to love--to truly love sacrificially and fully with the love of Christ. I surely cannot do it, selfish girl that I am, but You can do it through me.
No more robo calls--but only the authentic call of loving fully and sacrificially and joyfully! Loving God and loving others. After all, "It is the Lord's command, and if this alone be done, it is enough." Help us to love, Lord. To God, the author and source of all love, be the glory.
But I had to ask myself, is that how I'm demonstrating love first to my Savior and then to my family and friends and those God has so graciously placed in my life? Out of sheer busyness and preoccupation, do I sometimes (or often) "robo call" my time, my attention, my affection, my concern, my gratitude? Am I really present when I am with them, or are the lights on but nobody's home--cooking dinner, answering emails, contemplating my to-do list, worrying about one of my children, fretting over some matter and not really seeing or listening or loving the very ones with whom I most need and desire to pursue in meaningful, deep relationship. It's so easy to be shallow and quick and inattentive to those dearest to us in our relentless quest to get more things done and completed--even though, ironically, all those chores and accomplishments are most often for the very people we love and are somehow missing in our busyness and rush! We robo call those we most cherish while squandering our time and attention on all the other meaningless flotsam of life.
Or when we spend time with the Lord: how often do we "robo call" our Savior? Do we read the life-altering, life-sustaining supernatural Word of God as though we are doing our required summer reading for college? Just get it done and check it off our list... and tragically miss the Lord of the universe waiting in it's precious pages to speak to us, convict us, encourage us, change us, equip us? O forgive us, Father! We forfeit blessing upon blessing in our haste to get it done and move on to something more urgent and infinitely less important.
And, boy, how much we miss in our personal relationships when we do this! Truly, how often have you been swayed by a robo call? Me? Never! But, let me talk to my husband, or a dear friend, or one of my siblings, or a beloved child, and I am always impacted and inevitably caused to ponder and understand dilemmas or concerns in a new way. Love always causes us to be changed and challenged and comforted... but also, praise God, less conceited and self-concerned. But we have to be fully present and actively seeking to listen and empathize and encourage that other person. We can't put it on auto-pilot while we selfishly seek our own way and our own agenda.
I have been so convicted in reading through the Gospel of John--what an example from start to finish of the love of Christ--the sacrificial, perfect, sanctifying, unselfish love of the Savior. John outlived all the other disciples. And in Jerome's Commentary on the Epistle to the Galatians, we are told: "When he [Apostle John] tarried at Ephesus to extreme old age, and could only with difficulty be carried to the church in the arms of his disciples, and was unable to give utterance to many words, he used to say no more at their several meetings, than this, 'Little children, love one another.' At length, the disciples and fathers who were there, wearied with always hearing the same words, said, 'Master, why dost thou always say this?' 'It is the Lord's command,' was his worthy reply, 'and if this alone be done, it is enough.'"
Amen! Read through the Gospel of John, and you will see an unrelentingly loving Savior--a Lord who loves to the uttermost and even to laying aside all the infinite glory and respect and honor due Him and gives His life for His own created beings (sinful and ungrateful though they be). And here is what He commands us: "A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; just as I have loved you, you also are to love one another. By this all people will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another." (John 13:34-35)
If you were taken to court for being a disciple of Christ, based upon this evidence of the way you love others, would there by enough evidence to convict? Do others know I am His by the way I love? Or do I look more like some frenzied, shallow follower who loves when it's convenient or comfortable? O Lord, You who loved so infinitely much, help me to follow closely in Your footsteps and to love--to truly love sacrificially and fully with the love of Christ. I surely cannot do it, selfish girl that I am, but You can do it through me.
No more robo calls--but only the authentic call of loving fully and sacrificially and joyfully! Loving God and loving others. After all, "It is the Lord's command, and if this alone be done, it is enough." Help us to love, Lord. To God, the author and source of all love, be the glory.
Friday, May 4, 2012
Night-time Nicodemus
He came to see Jesus at night... for fear of what others might say or do or think of him. Nicodemus, "a ruler of the Jews" had a lot to lose--his position, not just in the synagogue but with his family, friends, and community, his pride, his safety, his wealth. Surely all could have been jeopardized had the other Pharisees realized that Nicodemus, too, was in danger of following that rabble-rouser, Jesus.
And so he came at night, in secret, with his questions. He had been watching and listening to Jesus, and something obviously was stirring within him. Could this be the Christ? Could this be the long-awaited Messiah? Surely not... but yet, maybe, just maybe?
Surely Nicodemus, as a respected member of the Sanhedrin, the governing body of the Jews, would have known the Scriptures backwards and forwards. He knew the prophecies. He knew the signs and had seen and heard of Jesus' miracles. When almost all of his fellow leaders of the Sanhedrin rejected and hated Jesus and sought for ways to discredit and destroy Him, Nicodemus came and asked and listened intently--seeking, searching, hoping, with a spirit open and obedient to God.
Jesus tells him "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God." (John 3:3) And a few verses later, "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16) There it is--clear as day: out of His infinite love, God sent Jesus, that WHOEVER believes in HIM, will be saved and given eternal, abundant life.
More on these astounding verses another day, but right now, I'm thinking about night-time Nicodemus. Can't we all relate to him? So fearful of other's opinions, so uncertain, so careful. He really did have a lot to lose, so I certainly can't blame him. But surely he pondered Jesus' strange and hauntingly piercing words that night for many a night and day in the months to come. He continued to watch and listen and think and remember. He must have had at least one other member of the Sanhedrin who was watching and starting to believe Jesus along with him, for when he came to Jesus that night he said "WE know that you are a teacher come from God..." (John 3:2) Surely they had been discussing it very quietly and secretly among themselves--could this be the Messiah? Should they say something? Should they oppose the mounting tide of criticism and animosity against Jesus by their fellow leaders?
And what about Jesus' mysterious words to Nicodemus that night: "No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him may have eternal life." (John 3:13-14) Jesus referred to an occasion hundreds of years earlier when the Israelites were wandering around the wilderness for 40 years. Because of their sin, poisonous snakes were killing the people right and left. God told Moses to make a bronze snake, put it up on a wooden stake and lift it up over the heads of the people. All who would look up to the snake and believe would be saved from the venomous snakes. (Numbers 21:9) Surely Nicodemus turned these words and their meaning over and over in his mind during the following months and wondered and hoped....
Months later, on that terrible Good Friday, did Nicodemus watch this God-man as He carried His cross? Surely he stood at the back of the crowd as they nailed Jesus to the cross, and then slowly, slowly raised Him above the crowd. Nicodemus saw the top of the wooden stake, then the battered, bloody head, then the bruised and torn shoulders and arms as Jesus was raised up high above the people. Could it have been at that moment that it suddenly hit Nicodemus? The very words of Jesus, playing in his mind: "so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him may have eternal life." Lifted up on that wooden stake, like the serpent. The people in the wilderness, the people at the foot of the cross, looking up, believing, and thereby gaining life. Surely then the words of Isaiah and the prophets flooded upon Nicodemus: "He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, and as one from whom men hide their faces He was despised and we esteemed Him not. Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken by God and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53:3-5)
How I wish I could have been there to ask Nicodemus, "What was the moment? When was the moment that you knew, that you believed?" For we know when he acted. He and Joseph of Arimethea, "who was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews" went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then Nicodemus and Joseph lovingly prepared Jesus' body for burial and placed it in Joseph's own brand new tomb. (John 19:36-42) O how I love this. They had nothing to gain, everything to lose. Jesus was dead. His opponents had seemingly won resoundingly.
And yet now Nicodemus and Joseph came out in the open and declared their loyalty to this One who had died for them. They now feared and loved God far more than they feared their fellow man for they had seen their Messiah beaten and battered and bruised for their sins, lifted high upon a wooden cross, and watched as this sinless One died the death that should have been theirs, and ours. They believed and loved and acted. Perhaps it was too late, but nonetheless, they would express their worship and their love in the only way they knew how: by openly caring for His body and preparing God for burial.
Until the third day. And then, O Joseph, you could have your tomb back, sanctified, glorified by the risen Savior! The Savior you had secretly followed until it was seemingly too late, but with God, it is never too late. It is never to late to go to the foot of the cross in repentance. It is never too late to begin again, by the grace of Almighty God. It is never too late to go to the Lord Jesus, to the One who was lifted up, and ask Him to forgive you and ask Him to be Your Lord and Savior. It is never too late to worship and serve and love greatly because you have been forgiven and loved so infinitely greatly.
It is never too late for you or for me. Go to the Savior. Go to the cross and look up and believe and receive the gift of salvation by "the way, the truth, the life." No matter where you have been, no matter what you have done, it is never ever too late. Come today. Come now. He is waiting. To God be the glory.
And so he came at night, in secret, with his questions. He had been watching and listening to Jesus, and something obviously was stirring within him. Could this be the Christ? Could this be the long-awaited Messiah? Surely not... but yet, maybe, just maybe?
Surely Nicodemus, as a respected member of the Sanhedrin, the governing body of the Jews, would have known the Scriptures backwards and forwards. He knew the prophecies. He knew the signs and had seen and heard of Jesus' miracles. When almost all of his fellow leaders of the Sanhedrin rejected and hated Jesus and sought for ways to discredit and destroy Him, Nicodemus came and asked and listened intently--seeking, searching, hoping, with a spirit open and obedient to God.
Jesus tells him "Truly, truly, I say to you, unless one is born again he cannot see the kingdom of God." (John 3:3) And a few verses later, "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life. (John 3:16) There it is--clear as day: out of His infinite love, God sent Jesus, that WHOEVER believes in HIM, will be saved and given eternal, abundant life.
More on these astounding verses another day, but right now, I'm thinking about night-time Nicodemus. Can't we all relate to him? So fearful of other's opinions, so uncertain, so careful. He really did have a lot to lose, so I certainly can't blame him. But surely he pondered Jesus' strange and hauntingly piercing words that night for many a night and day in the months to come. He continued to watch and listen and think and remember. He must have had at least one other member of the Sanhedrin who was watching and starting to believe Jesus along with him, for when he came to Jesus that night he said "WE know that you are a teacher come from God..." (John 3:2) Surely they had been discussing it very quietly and secretly among themselves--could this be the Messiah? Should they say something? Should they oppose the mounting tide of criticism and animosity against Jesus by their fellow leaders?
And what about Jesus' mysterious words to Nicodemus that night: "No one has ascended into heaven except he who descended from heaven, the Son of Man. And as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him may have eternal life." (John 3:13-14) Jesus referred to an occasion hundreds of years earlier when the Israelites were wandering around the wilderness for 40 years. Because of their sin, poisonous snakes were killing the people right and left. God told Moses to make a bronze snake, put it up on a wooden stake and lift it up over the heads of the people. All who would look up to the snake and believe would be saved from the venomous snakes. (Numbers 21:9) Surely Nicodemus turned these words and their meaning over and over in his mind during the following months and wondered and hoped....
Months later, on that terrible Good Friday, did Nicodemus watch this God-man as He carried His cross? Surely he stood at the back of the crowd as they nailed Jesus to the cross, and then slowly, slowly raised Him above the crowd. Nicodemus saw the top of the wooden stake, then the battered, bloody head, then the bruised and torn shoulders and arms as Jesus was raised up high above the people. Could it have been at that moment that it suddenly hit Nicodemus? The very words of Jesus, playing in his mind: "so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in Him may have eternal life." Lifted up on that wooden stake, like the serpent. The people in the wilderness, the people at the foot of the cross, looking up, believing, and thereby gaining life. Surely then the words of Isaiah and the prophets flooded upon Nicodemus: "He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief, and as one from whom men hide their faces He was despised and we esteemed Him not. Surely He has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed Him stricken by God and afflicted. But He was wounded for our transgressions; He was crushed for our iniquities; upon Him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with His stripes we are healed." (Isaiah 53:3-5)
How I wish I could have been there to ask Nicodemus, "What was the moment? When was the moment that you knew, that you believed?" For we know when he acted. He and Joseph of Arimethea, "who was a disciple of Jesus, but secretly for fear of the Jews" went to Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then Nicodemus and Joseph lovingly prepared Jesus' body for burial and placed it in Joseph's own brand new tomb. (John 19:36-42) O how I love this. They had nothing to gain, everything to lose. Jesus was dead. His opponents had seemingly won resoundingly.
And yet now Nicodemus and Joseph came out in the open and declared their loyalty to this One who had died for them. They now feared and loved God far more than they feared their fellow man for they had seen their Messiah beaten and battered and bruised for their sins, lifted high upon a wooden cross, and watched as this sinless One died the death that should have been theirs, and ours. They believed and loved and acted. Perhaps it was too late, but nonetheless, they would express their worship and their love in the only way they knew how: by openly caring for His body and preparing God for burial.
Until the third day. And then, O Joseph, you could have your tomb back, sanctified, glorified by the risen Savior! The Savior you had secretly followed until it was seemingly too late, but with God, it is never too late. It is never to late to go to the foot of the cross in repentance. It is never too late to begin again, by the grace of Almighty God. It is never too late to go to the Lord Jesus, to the One who was lifted up, and ask Him to forgive you and ask Him to be Your Lord and Savior. It is never too late to worship and serve and love greatly because you have been forgiven and loved so infinitely greatly.
It is never too late for you or for me. Go to the Savior. Go to the cross and look up and believe and receive the gift of salvation by "the way, the truth, the life." No matter where you have been, no matter what you have done, it is never ever too late. Come today. Come now. He is waiting. To God be the glory.
Thursday, May 3, 2012
A Walk in the Neighborhood
"And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only son from the Father, full of grace and truth." John 1:14
I reread these familiar, beautiful words again this morning and, as always, simply have to rejoice in amazement and wonder. Eugene Peterson's paraphrase expresses it this way: "The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, Generous inside and out, true from start to finish."
The Lord of the universe chose to come and move into our neighborhood. Incredible. He chose to get down in the mud of our daily lives and live with us, walk with us, laugh with us, cry with us. God with feet and hands and nose and teeth. Think of it: the Lord, the Creator of everything in this universe from the finest speck of dust to the greatest galaxy, came into our neighborhood and got dirty and tired. Dirt under the fingernails, tangled hair, leg cramps, stuffy nose. I bet He caught colds just like we do. Just like us--but without one speck of sin of any kind. God in His sinless perfection--fully one of us, yet fully divine and revealing the glory of God the Father. Who can comprehend that?
He surely marveled as a man at the sun rising in all it's majesty and thrilled at the gentle chorus of birds or the lap of the waves on the undulating waters--all created by Him and through Him with a word. Don't you think He must have loved laughing with his friends, telling and listening to stories, and rejoicing in the inestimable gift of fellowship? I'm guessing He loved the colors and sounds and smells of creation, and surely must have thought to Himself, "Yes, it is good! It is really really good!"
Today, how thankful I am for the Savior who came and moved into our neighborhood and became one of us in order to secure salvation for all who would believe in His Name and make Him their Lord. Our Lord is transcendent and omnipotent and omniscient... in other words, He is Almighty God and infinitely far above and beyond us, His created "dust people." And yet, who can explain it?--He became such a one as us--the infinite became finite, the unlimited became limited, and moved into our bustling, messy, muddy neighborhoods. So He understands our weaknesses, our fears, our sorrows, our temptations, our limitations, as well as our joys and loves and wonders.
Just the other night, my youngest son came into the room where I was folding the Mount Everest of laundry loads. "Mom, how about if we go outside and look for deer and maybe a fox and just get some fresh air?" (A ploy to get out of homework, perhaps?) Well, gee, that was a tough choice: fold infinite amounts of clothes by myself in our bedroom or walk outside in the cool of the evening with a son who still wants to spend time with his mama. Actually, a part of me hesitated for just a microsecond--I really really needed to get that laundry done, it was a school night, after all, and homework was surely not finished, there were still dirty dishes in the sink, phone calls needed to be returned, I was tired... blah blah blah.
Praise the Lord the Holy Spirit gently redirected my thoughts to the important rather than the urgent, and, of course, I put the laundry aside and went with my son to walk in the neighborhood.
And it was glorious. We saw no deer or foxes. But the warm spring air felt incredible--and the soft smells of honeysuckle wafted by, reminding me of childhood. And the fireflies, well, what a wonder! What an awesome Lord who would create tiny little bugs that flash on and off, of and off, in neon brightness in the spring darkness! I walked slowly behind, watching Peter race after the tiny little miracles of light, and shouting, "You know, they light up so they can meet their husbands and their wives!," and I experienced simple, pure joy in a perfect moment. "What a God," I whispered. "What a great and gracious and good God. Thank You for not allowing me to miss this."
We strolled and chatted--but very quietly lest we scare away any potential deer or foxes--and enjoyed the gift of an evening when homework and laundry could wait, but walking and worship could not, must not. How many times have I missed it, missed You, Lord? Forgive me. Teach me, as I pray so often, to number my days aright that I might gain a heart of wisdom. (Ps.90:12) As I thought about that evening, I just couldn't help but think of our Almighty Creator God, moving into our neighborhood and enjoying these simple gifts of life and creation just as much as we do--or should.
C.S. Lewis once wrote: "The great thing is to be found at one's post as a child of God, living each day as though it were our last, but planning as though our world might last a hundred years." He came into the neighborhood that we might be saved and have abundant, eternal life. We have eternity... but we only have this one day to fully live to His glory today. Live today as if it might be your last--loving God with all your heart, loving those He has placed in your path with all you have, and savoring this world He created, seeing it with the eyes of a child--with eyes of wonder and worship. Might we behold His glory this day as we live as His beloved child, overflowing with gratitude in His amazing grace. To God, the Creator, the Sustainer, the Redeemer who moved into the neighborhood with the ones He came to save, be all the glory.
I reread these familiar, beautiful words again this morning and, as always, simply have to rejoice in amazement and wonder. Eugene Peterson's paraphrase expresses it this way: "The Word became flesh and blood and moved into the neighborhood. We saw the glory with our own eyes, the one-of-a-kind glory, like Father, like Son, Generous inside and out, true from start to finish."
The Lord of the universe chose to come and move into our neighborhood. Incredible. He chose to get down in the mud of our daily lives and live with us, walk with us, laugh with us, cry with us. God with feet and hands and nose and teeth. Think of it: the Lord, the Creator of everything in this universe from the finest speck of dust to the greatest galaxy, came into our neighborhood and got dirty and tired. Dirt under the fingernails, tangled hair, leg cramps, stuffy nose. I bet He caught colds just like we do. Just like us--but without one speck of sin of any kind. God in His sinless perfection--fully one of us, yet fully divine and revealing the glory of God the Father. Who can comprehend that?
He surely marveled as a man at the sun rising in all it's majesty and thrilled at the gentle chorus of birds or the lap of the waves on the undulating waters--all created by Him and through Him with a word. Don't you think He must have loved laughing with his friends, telling and listening to stories, and rejoicing in the inestimable gift of fellowship? I'm guessing He loved the colors and sounds and smells of creation, and surely must have thought to Himself, "Yes, it is good! It is really really good!"
Today, how thankful I am for the Savior who came and moved into our neighborhood and became one of us in order to secure salvation for all who would believe in His Name and make Him their Lord. Our Lord is transcendent and omnipotent and omniscient... in other words, He is Almighty God and infinitely far above and beyond us, His created "dust people." And yet, who can explain it?--He became such a one as us--the infinite became finite, the unlimited became limited, and moved into our bustling, messy, muddy neighborhoods. So He understands our weaknesses, our fears, our sorrows, our temptations, our limitations, as well as our joys and loves and wonders.
Just the other night, my youngest son came into the room where I was folding the Mount Everest of laundry loads. "Mom, how about if we go outside and look for deer and maybe a fox and just get some fresh air?" (A ploy to get out of homework, perhaps?) Well, gee, that was a tough choice: fold infinite amounts of clothes by myself in our bedroom or walk outside in the cool of the evening with a son who still wants to spend time with his mama. Actually, a part of me hesitated for just a microsecond--I really really needed to get that laundry done, it was a school night, after all, and homework was surely not finished, there were still dirty dishes in the sink, phone calls needed to be returned, I was tired... blah blah blah.
Praise the Lord the Holy Spirit gently redirected my thoughts to the important rather than the urgent, and, of course, I put the laundry aside and went with my son to walk in the neighborhood.
And it was glorious. We saw no deer or foxes. But the warm spring air felt incredible--and the soft smells of honeysuckle wafted by, reminding me of childhood. And the fireflies, well, what a wonder! What an awesome Lord who would create tiny little bugs that flash on and off, of and off, in neon brightness in the spring darkness! I walked slowly behind, watching Peter race after the tiny little miracles of light, and shouting, "You know, they light up so they can meet their husbands and their wives!," and I experienced simple, pure joy in a perfect moment. "What a God," I whispered. "What a great and gracious and good God. Thank You for not allowing me to miss this."
We strolled and chatted--but very quietly lest we scare away any potential deer or foxes--and enjoyed the gift of an evening when homework and laundry could wait, but walking and worship could not, must not. How many times have I missed it, missed You, Lord? Forgive me. Teach me, as I pray so often, to number my days aright that I might gain a heart of wisdom. (Ps.90:12) As I thought about that evening, I just couldn't help but think of our Almighty Creator God, moving into our neighborhood and enjoying these simple gifts of life and creation just as much as we do--or should.
C.S. Lewis once wrote: "The great thing is to be found at one's post as a child of God, living each day as though it were our last, but planning as though our world might last a hundred years." He came into the neighborhood that we might be saved and have abundant, eternal life. We have eternity... but we only have this one day to fully live to His glory today. Live today as if it might be your last--loving God with all your heart, loving those He has placed in your path with all you have, and savoring this world He created, seeing it with the eyes of a child--with eyes of wonder and worship. Might we behold His glory this day as we live as His beloved child, overflowing with gratitude in His amazing grace. To God, the Creator, the Sustainer, the Redeemer who moved into the neighborhood with the ones He came to save, be all the glory.
Tuesday, May 1, 2012
Discouragement and Gideon
Whew, life just never slows down, does it? How often have we said, "Well, if I can just get past this week... or just get all my children into school... or just get this project finished... or just get through Christmas or graduation or... then I can catch my breath or get more rest or find time to read the Bible and pray or really start enjoying time with my children or spouse or parents." But that time never comes, because, life, well, life just keeps happening at a never slackening pace. Someone always gets sick or our child suffers from procrastination-panic at that looming school project deadline or we have various sporting events to attend or our work schedule goes haywire or we're in charge of teacher appreciation or prom or it's someone's birthday and on and on and on.
Well, that is how life seems to go around here anyway. Just the other day, my youngest child just had "to finish up" his school project, which he assured me was nearly completed. So the night before it was due, we sat down, and to my horror, I discovered his definition of "nearly finished" meant that he had thought about it... for a few minutes. Mercy, we were up mighty late (and up the next morning awfully early) while he worked and I typed (and fumed). Once or twice he said to me, "You are not being very encouraging." hmm. I wasn't feeling too encouraging either. That's just a microcosm of the past few weeks... well, maybe of the past few years... uh, past few decades. By the way, my daughter just walked into the house, flopped down on the chair, and while munching a chocolate chip cookie (chocolate--the universal antidote for whatever ails you) moaned "I'm never ever going to get sleep. It's just one thing piled on top of another with all this schoolwork, and I'm completely exhausted. I'm going to take a little nap so I don't die." Gee, I can't imagine where she got this tendency to exaggerate. But seriously, isn't that life?
So here's the thing: when I get overwhelmed and exhausted, I tend to grow discouraged. And we all know it, but discouragement truly is one of the enemy's greatest tools. Because when we are tired and down and out, we don't feel like reading our Bible or praying. We don't feel like crying out to God for help and hope, because we're just too wrapped up in our own messes or mundane tasks to take the time and effort to look up rather than around. We think and act based upon our feelings rather than our faith. I had that kind of morning today--overwhelmed, tired, feeling crummy from a summer cold, and therefore, a bit discouraged and disheartened.
But that is exactly how Gideon must have felt! The nation of Midian had been oppressing the Israelites at every turn for over 7 years: stealing, devouring crops, terrorizing, destroying like a hoard of locusts, the book of Judges describes it. Little old Gideon is so terrified and discouraged by this demoralizing state of affairs, that he is hiding like a scared mouse while threshing his wheat. And that's when an angel of the Lord goes to him and tells him, "The Lord is with you, O mighty man of valor." (Judges 6:12) By the way, if ever there was a clear example that God sees us not as we are but as we can be, as we might be when He transforms and empowers us, this is it! Gideon is from the dinkiest tribe in Israel, from the dinkiest family and he's the dinkiest of all in his family (his words, sort of, not mine). And he trying to hide while threshing wheat, for pete's sake. And this guy is a "mighty man of valor?" Are you kidding?
Yep. Don't you love it! God loves to use us nobodies, us no-counts, us washed-outs or worn-outs or wrung-outs. Because it's not about what we can do; it's all about what He can do through us. And if good old Gideon is any indication, well, He can do, as my mama used to say, "a gracious plenty." And more... much much infinitely more.
Gideon reminds the angel of how desperately hopeless Israel is and how insignificant and inadequate he is, and then the angel says, "Gosh, you're right. What was I thinking? Forget about it." Nope, while that is what I would have said, that is definitely not what he said. Here's what the Lord said, and mark it down, because these are some fine words for all of us: "Go in this might of yours and save Israel from the hand of Midian; do not I send you?" (Judges 6:14) In other words, get going with whatever little you have, with whatever tiny shred of faith and ability you possess, because Almighty, Omnipotent God is the One who sends you. And whoever God employs, He enables and empowers. To counter all of Gideon's continuing objections, the Lord reminds him, "But I will be with you." (v.16)
Lord, I'm tired or discouraged... but God says, "go in this might you have, for I'm sending you and I'm with you." Lord, I'm scared or overwhelmed or uncertain or unable... but the Lord declares "go in this might of yours...do not I send you?... I will be with you." And He sends us. And He goes with us. And He always completes that which He has begun in us. Our job is just to start--to just "go in this might" of ours, no matter how tiny or insignificant. Just take the first step, and trust that He will carry us the rest of the way as we look unto Him.
By the way, Gideon, well, he did pretty well and completely defeated the vast and mighty hoards of Midian with just 300 men! God plus Gideon equals victory. Or maybe I should say, God plus anybody, even the weakest, most worn out, most overwhelmed or most unable, equals victory. Because, really, it's not us plus God... it's just God-- and we go along for the ride and then get to claim the victory! Sounds like a win-win to me! Maybe, just maybe, discouraged and exhausted and overwhelmed might be the best place to be--for when we are weak, then we are strong, because His power is made perfect in our weakness. (2 Cor.12:9-10)
Today, if you are tired, or discouraged, or defeated, look to the One with all power and ask Him to be strong in your weakness and to enable you to go forth in whatever little might you have, confident that He is sending and empowering and enabling you. Stop worrying about your feelings and just start based on your faith, feeble though it might be. It's not about the amount of your faith--it's about the object of your faith--and He is infinitely worthy. The Almighty One is with you, and that's enough. Because He is always more than enough. To our Great God be all the glory forever.
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