A little food for weekend thought:
From Mark Batterson: "All of us love miracles. We just don't like being in a situation that necessitates one. We hate finding ourselves between an Egyptian army and a Red Sea, but this is how God reveals His glory. We want God to part the Red Sea when the Egyptian army is still in Egypt. We want God to provide for our need before we even need it. But sometimes God waits. And then He waits longer...
So why does God wait until the very last second to make His move? Why does He let the Egyptian army get close? Because you could make a movie about that someday! And we love those kinds of movies, don't we? Unless, of course, we're in the middle of them. Once again, the God who provides just enough parts the Red Sea just in time."
Boy, can I ever relate! We want to experience God's miraculous provision in our lives...but we just aren't willing to be put in positions where we need His provision. I want God to send His manna before I even begin to feel the pangs of hunger. I want to know for certain right now that God will protect, provide for, and bless my children--but it's in their stretching and struggling and waiting that God builds into them His character. Yes, I want miracles...but without the difficulties and hardships associated with needing those miracles.
So, remind us Lord, if we want to see You working supernaturally in our lives, we must be willing to endure some waiting, some discomfort, and some uncertainty in the meantime. If we never lack, we'll never recognize our need. If we never wait or we're never desperate, we'll never make room for the God who provides "just enough, just in time."
Miracles come at a cost...but boy, when they come, they usher in God's glory and grace like nothing else. Help us, Father, to trust while we wait. To God be the glory.
Sunday, September 15, 2013
Friday, September 13, 2013
Hospital room or palatial estate?
What a tragic ending to a life that held so much promise--the life of heiress Huguette Clark. I read briefly about this eccentric and reclusive daughter of copper industrialist, W. A. Clark (who was, apparently in his day, as wealthy as Rockefeller). Huguette, brilliant and talented, certainly had every material advantage known to man, but she as she grew older, she became increasingly reclusive and eccentric. Indeed, when she died at the age of 104, not a single photograph had been taken of her for many decades. And she left none of her vast $300 million estate to any of her family members. Tells you something right there about the nature of her relationships--or at least her familial ones.
But here's the thing that really struck me: Huguette owned a number of palatial estates--in California, New York (15,000 square feel on 5th Avenue!), and Connecticut to name a few. Yet the last 20 years of her life she chose to live in a tiny hospital room...despite the fact that she was perfectly healthy.
Why? Well, apparently over two decades ago, Huguette went to the hospital for some kind of relatively minor health issue. But when it came time to leave and return home, she decided that she much preferred that tiny hospital room to any of her beautiful homes. Despite her good health, she voluntarily chose a sterile hospital room over any of her gorgeous estates scattered throughout the country. Can you imagine? Who would make such a trade?
Well, who indeed. For I had to ask myself, how often do I chose a trade-off just as ridiculous--or tragic--as that? How quickly do I insist on my infinitely inferior ideas or my limited vision of a perfect plan instead of trusting the all-knowing, all-loving God for His perfect plans for my life--or the lives of those that I love.
"No, Lord, it has to be this way!' "No, Lord, this school, not that school for my child." "No, Lord, let me stay here in the safety of my comfortable status quo instead of venturing out into the great adventure of Your often not-so-controllable or predictable plan." "No, Lord. I think I'll just stick it out here in my mud puddle of sin rather than do the hard work of repentance and obedience--even though that leads to freedom!" "No thanks, Lord. I think I prefer my little hospital room of comfort and convenience rather than enjoying the freedom and beauty of Your will, Your way, Your Word."
O Lord, forgive us for our lack of faith and trust in You, Your Word, and Your will! We're tired of settling for the tiny, sterile hospital rooms of our limited plans when You long for us to have so much more...to be so much more. Help us to be willing to step out in faith and obedience into Your glorious and grand adventure for our lives. Sometimes it may be hard...unpredictable...scary...but it's ultimately gloriously good!
As C.S.Lewis said about Aslan--He's not safe...but He's good. That's our Father--not safe. Not status quo. But full of grace, love, power, hope, and joy....and O soooo good. To God be the glory.
But here's the thing that really struck me: Huguette owned a number of palatial estates--in California, New York (15,000 square feel on 5th Avenue!), and Connecticut to name a few. Yet the last 20 years of her life she chose to live in a tiny hospital room...despite the fact that she was perfectly healthy.
Why? Well, apparently over two decades ago, Huguette went to the hospital for some kind of relatively minor health issue. But when it came time to leave and return home, she decided that she much preferred that tiny hospital room to any of her beautiful homes. Despite her good health, she voluntarily chose a sterile hospital room over any of her gorgeous estates scattered throughout the country. Can you imagine? Who would make such a trade?
Well, who indeed. For I had to ask myself, how often do I chose a trade-off just as ridiculous--or tragic--as that? How quickly do I insist on my infinitely inferior ideas or my limited vision of a perfect plan instead of trusting the all-knowing, all-loving God for His perfect plans for my life--or the lives of those that I love.
"No, Lord, it has to be this way!' "No, Lord, this school, not that school for my child." "No, Lord, let me stay here in the safety of my comfortable status quo instead of venturing out into the great adventure of Your often not-so-controllable or predictable plan." "No, Lord. I think I'll just stick it out here in my mud puddle of sin rather than do the hard work of repentance and obedience--even though that leads to freedom!" "No thanks, Lord. I think I prefer my little hospital room of comfort and convenience rather than enjoying the freedom and beauty of Your will, Your way, Your Word."
O Lord, forgive us for our lack of faith and trust in You, Your Word, and Your will! We're tired of settling for the tiny, sterile hospital rooms of our limited plans when You long for us to have so much more...to be so much more. Help us to be willing to step out in faith and obedience into Your glorious and grand adventure for our lives. Sometimes it may be hard...unpredictable...scary...but it's ultimately gloriously good!
As C.S.Lewis said about Aslan--He's not safe...but He's good. That's our Father--not safe. Not status quo. But full of grace, love, power, hope, and joy....and O soooo good. To God be the glory.
Wednesday, September 11, 2013
September 11th and our Burden-Bearer
"I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth." (Ps.121:1-2)
A view of God's mountains from a Young Life camp in Malibu, British Columbia...and a reminder that He is our always and forever our Helper and Sustainer.
On this hard day of remembering, this day of September 11, might we also remember the God who sustains us in times of triumph and tragedy. The God who sometimes seems to answer our prayers in dramatic, miraculous ways...but who also sometimes seems to answer them in ways that wound us deeply and leave us wondering why.
But the older I've gotten, the more I've grown to find peace in that hard but mysterious place--that place of knowing God's ways are so much bigger and greater and deeper than anything my puny mind can even begin to conceive. And if He's allowed--or withheld--that trial in our lives, well, then, we can trust that He who knows all, does best.
In the words from a great old hymn-
God moves in a mysterious way, His wonders to perform.
He plants His footsteps in the sea and rides upon the storm..
Ye fearful saints, fresh courage take; the clouds ye so much dread
Are big with mercy and shall break in blessings on your head.
Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace;
Behind a frowning providence He hides a smiling face.
We may not understand His hand...but we can trust His heart. We may not always like His plan...but we can forever love His perfect Son, our Savior.
And He tells us to "Cast your burden on the Lord, and He shall sustain you." (Ps.55:22)
He is our Burden-Bearer even, and especially, in the midst of September 11th days.
Mark Batterson says: "Sometimes the power of prayer is the power to carry on. It doesn't always change your circumstances, but it gives you the strength to walk through them. When you pray through, the burden is taken off of your shoulders and put on the shoulders of Him who carried the cross to Calvary."
So today, we grieve for those families who lost so much on this day--shoulder their burdens Lord, and give them Your perfect peace. And for all those today who feel mired in the mystery of unanswered prayer and are weighed and worn down by those burdens, O Lord, renew their strength! Give them a fresh vision of the One who bears their burdens and gives them grace for this day, just for this day and this hour, to carry on. Might they take fresh courage knowing that those dreaded clouds are, in Your perfect plan, big with mercy and will one day, one glorious day, break with blessings upon their sometimes parched hearts.
Remind us all--we live in the "not quite yet"--You will, one day, make all things new and right and perfect...soon, but not yet. Help us persevere even in the mystery of the "not yet."
And thank You for bearing our burdens in the meantime...until that glorious day.
To God be the glory.
Monday, September 9, 2013
"Let's go to Sunday School!"
You'd have thought he was embarking on the Baatan death march.
Yesterday morning, our youngest son prepared for the first day of the new year of Sunday school. And I should add, this was not just any first day. This was the first day of going to Middle School Sunday school. It never occurred to me that this might prove anything but routine. I mean, after all, how many times have our children gone to Sunday school over the years? Hmm, well, just goes to show, you mustn't go on autopilot when it comes to your children...though that can be mighty easy and tempting to do.
We started out well enough getting ready for the morning. Dressed--check. Teeth brushed--check (after a reminder and a deep sigh). Grab Bible--check. Run out the door to the car--well, check, but it was at this moment that things started to slooooooow down a bit.
Arrive at church and jump out of the car and rush into Sunday school so we'd be almost on time--NOT check. Instead, my son inexplicably leaned over in the back seat for several moments.
"What on earth are you doing, let's go!" I shouted impatiently as I waited to lock the car doors. When the leaning over continued, I looked in the window and repeated my question--with a little more impatient frustration beginning to sound in my voice and attitude.
"I"m stretching" he responded tersely. Stretching?! Since when did he "stretch" to touch his toes before exiting the car?! I'm starting to get a wee bit suspicious.
And then began the Bataan death march. I'm telling you, slugs could've walked that parking lot faster than he did. Not to mention the amazingly circuitous route he navigated around the cars and cones and, I'm sure, ants and centipedes. It took us forever to walk the normally 2 minute walk from parking lot to front door. Now I'm really getting suspicious.
I hear an exasperated voice declare, "You GO ON! I'm coming. I know where to goooo!"
Okay, here's where I'd like to say I'm such a remarkable, sweet, patient, and wise mom that I slowed and stopped and went and hugged my child and told him how much I loved him and how much God loves him and how much everybody loves him and how much his class will love him....
But, that, of course, would not be what happened. Not on planet Fountain. If you want to hear that story, go read one of those supermom books. Sigh.
Here's what happened in our non-supermom world...cause here's the thing. I'm not a super-mom but I do have a SUPER-GOD!!! So, I praise Him that our Lord broke through--even in my aggravated state--with His still small voice that revealed that, just perhaps, our little guy was the teeniest bit intimidated about this new venture into the Middle School Sunday school world. Thank You for Your grace, Father.
So, impatient Mama finally slowed down and said "I'll wait. I'm going to go in with you to make sure you find the new classroom."
This was not greeted with excitement. O noooo.
"No, you do NOT NEED TO DO THAT!" It was that strange mixture between feeling intimidation as the new guy and absolute mortification at his parent showing her face anywhere near his fellow middle schoolers. O well, what can you say? That's part of a parent's job description: embarrass your children...and I'm pretty good at it.
Anyway, we continued the snail/slug/sloth pace down the halls of Broughton High School (where our church meets). After what seemed like an eternity, we had almost arrived at the door, when he announced: "I need to go the bathroom. You go on! I'm fine!" O yeah, I know that trick. It's amazing how frequently my youngest needs to run to the restroom when it's time for homework or chores...or, apparently, Middle School Sunday school.
"No problem, " I actually replied calmly. (Thank You Jesus--this was not me!) "I'll just wait right here outside the door. As soon as you're finished, we'll head on to class." Okay, I have to admit it, evil mom that I am, I was grinning at the time as I imagined his chagrin and heard his deep, deep sigh from inside the restroom.
"I'm still here waiting, sweetheart, whenever you're ready." Now another admission: I'm also tapping my foot like machine gun fire because I'm hating how late I'm now going to be to our adult Sunday School class. I was so determined to arrive at least close to on time, and here I was again, surely the last one to arrive and feeling like a dead-beat. O well, sometimes you have to make hard choices in life and this was one of them. Look like a dead-beat, ne'er-do-well to my friends in my class or hang in there with my middle schooler and "encourage" him to get to his class.
I chose wisely, and when I finally arrived in my seat, I prayed to myself that God would encourage his little heart and bless him in that class.
The good news--we finally made it. I'm quite certain had anyone been timing us, we'd now be in the Guinness book of records. The really great news--he LOVED it!!! After church, he went on and on about how much fun it was and how much he loved his teachers...
And you know what, I know God was smiling. Because once again, He came through. Sure, came through in answering a haggard mama's prayer about her son enjoying Sunday school, but even more remarkably, broke through in the first place to a frustrated, preoccupied, rushed Mama's heart. He gave wisdom and love and joy in a place where it was desperately needed--my selfish heart.
So thank You, Father. Thank You for never giving up on us. Thank You for always encouraging us as our Perfect Parent--our Abba, our Daddy. Even as I write that, I want to cry--God, my Daddy. Incredible. Thank You for slowing to our pace, but prodding us along when we need it. And thank You that Your grace is always and forever sufficient.
"May our Lord Jesus Christ Himself and God our Father, who loved us and by His grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and wold." (2Thess. 2:16-17) And He did and He does and He always will.
To God be the glory.
Yesterday morning, our youngest son prepared for the first day of the new year of Sunday school. And I should add, this was not just any first day. This was the first day of going to Middle School Sunday school. It never occurred to me that this might prove anything but routine. I mean, after all, how many times have our children gone to Sunday school over the years? Hmm, well, just goes to show, you mustn't go on autopilot when it comes to your children...though that can be mighty easy and tempting to do.
We started out well enough getting ready for the morning. Dressed--check. Teeth brushed--check (after a reminder and a deep sigh). Grab Bible--check. Run out the door to the car--well, check, but it was at this moment that things started to slooooooow down a bit.
Arrive at church and jump out of the car and rush into Sunday school so we'd be almost on time--NOT check. Instead, my son inexplicably leaned over in the back seat for several moments.
"What on earth are you doing, let's go!" I shouted impatiently as I waited to lock the car doors. When the leaning over continued, I looked in the window and repeated my question--with a little more impatient frustration beginning to sound in my voice and attitude.
"I"m stretching" he responded tersely. Stretching?! Since when did he "stretch" to touch his toes before exiting the car?! I'm starting to get a wee bit suspicious.
And then began the Bataan death march. I'm telling you, slugs could've walked that parking lot faster than he did. Not to mention the amazingly circuitous route he navigated around the cars and cones and, I'm sure, ants and centipedes. It took us forever to walk the normally 2 minute walk from parking lot to front door. Now I'm really getting suspicious.
I hear an exasperated voice declare, "You GO ON! I'm coming. I know where to goooo!"
Okay, here's where I'd like to say I'm such a remarkable, sweet, patient, and wise mom that I slowed and stopped and went and hugged my child and told him how much I loved him and how much God loves him and how much everybody loves him and how much his class will love him....
But, that, of course, would not be what happened. Not on planet Fountain. If you want to hear that story, go read one of those supermom books. Sigh.
Here's what happened in our non-supermom world...cause here's the thing. I'm not a super-mom but I do have a SUPER-GOD!!! So, I praise Him that our Lord broke through--even in my aggravated state--with His still small voice that revealed that, just perhaps, our little guy was the teeniest bit intimidated about this new venture into the Middle School Sunday school world. Thank You for Your grace, Father.
So, impatient Mama finally slowed down and said "I'll wait. I'm going to go in with you to make sure you find the new classroom."
This was not greeted with excitement. O noooo.
"No, you do NOT NEED TO DO THAT!" It was that strange mixture between feeling intimidation as the new guy and absolute mortification at his parent showing her face anywhere near his fellow middle schoolers. O well, what can you say? That's part of a parent's job description: embarrass your children...and I'm pretty good at it.
Anyway, we continued the snail/slug/sloth pace down the halls of Broughton High School (where our church meets). After what seemed like an eternity, we had almost arrived at the door, when he announced: "I need to go the bathroom. You go on! I'm fine!" O yeah, I know that trick. It's amazing how frequently my youngest needs to run to the restroom when it's time for homework or chores...or, apparently, Middle School Sunday school.
"No problem, " I actually replied calmly. (Thank You Jesus--this was not me!) "I'll just wait right here outside the door. As soon as you're finished, we'll head on to class." Okay, I have to admit it, evil mom that I am, I was grinning at the time as I imagined his chagrin and heard his deep, deep sigh from inside the restroom.
"I'm still here waiting, sweetheart, whenever you're ready." Now another admission: I'm also tapping my foot like machine gun fire because I'm hating how late I'm now going to be to our adult Sunday School class. I was so determined to arrive at least close to on time, and here I was again, surely the last one to arrive and feeling like a dead-beat. O well, sometimes you have to make hard choices in life and this was one of them. Look like a dead-beat, ne'er-do-well to my friends in my class or hang in there with my middle schooler and "encourage" him to get to his class.
I chose wisely, and when I finally arrived in my seat, I prayed to myself that God would encourage his little heart and bless him in that class.
The good news--we finally made it. I'm quite certain had anyone been timing us, we'd now be in the Guinness book of records. The really great news--he LOVED it!!! After church, he went on and on about how much fun it was and how much he loved his teachers...
And you know what, I know God was smiling. Because once again, He came through. Sure, came through in answering a haggard mama's prayer about her son enjoying Sunday school, but even more remarkably, broke through in the first place to a frustrated, preoccupied, rushed Mama's heart. He gave wisdom and love and joy in a place where it was desperately needed--my selfish heart.
So thank You, Father. Thank You for never giving up on us. Thank You for always encouraging us as our Perfect Parent--our Abba, our Daddy. Even as I write that, I want to cry--God, my Daddy. Incredible. Thank You for slowing to our pace, but prodding us along when we need it. And thank You that Your grace is always and forever sufficient.
"May our Lord Jesus Christ Himself and God our Father, who loved us and by His grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and wold." (2Thess. 2:16-17) And He did and He does and He always will.
To God be the glory.
Saturday, September 7, 2013
Cross out the "I!"
Just a little food for weekend thought:
I've been reading about the lives of several remarkable women. One of them, Helen Roseveare, was a medial missionary in Africa in the Congo for many years where she founded and built several hospitals and medical training facilities (and in which she also served as a doctor and teacher). A truly remarkable woman, but her workload was almost unfathomable.
She writes honestly of the times when her temper would get the best of her or she would grow impatient and snap at those around her due to overwork and exhaustion. Boy, none of us can imagine what that would be like, I'm sure! HA! Here are her powerful and convicting words after one such incident:
"I struggled on through a few more frustratingly, irritating weeks. I knew God was speaking to me, but I would not listen...I piled up the excuses--my over weariness, my taunt nerves, the load of responsibility.
Then one morning at our Bible study hour, I broke down. The Holy Spirit was working in the hearts of African students and pupils and workmen, but not in my cold, hard heart, and I could bear it no more.
Suddenly I knew I had to get away from it all and sort myself out and seek God's forgiveness and restoration, if I was to continue in the work.
Pastor Ndugu [her African pastor] had seen my spiritual need and made all the arrangements for me to go to stay in his village for a long weekend....There he gave me a room, and left me alone. I sought God's face for two unhappy days, but I could find no peace...I knew I was quite unworthy of the title 'missionary.'
Sunday evening, Pastor Ndugu called me out to the fireside where he and his wife, Tamoma, were sitting... We prayed. A great still silence wrapped us around....
Opening his Bible at Galatians 2:20, he drew a straight line in the dirt floor with his heel. 'I,' he said, 'the capital I in our lives, Self, is the great enemy...
Helen...the trouble with you is that we can see so much of Helen that we cannot see Jesus.'
...My eyes filled with tears.
'I notice that you drink much coffee,' he continued...apparently going off on a tangent. 'When they bring a mug to you...you stand there holding it, until it is cool enough to drink. May I suggest that every time, as you stand and wait, you should just lift your heart to God and pray...' and as he spoke, he moved his heel in the dirt across the I he had previously drawn, '[and say] Please God, cross out the I.'
There in the dirt was his lesson of simplified theology--the Cross--the crossed-out I life...'I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.' (Gal. 2:20)"
Lord, how often does that reflect me? Do folks fail to see Jesus because they see far too much "I?" O how prone we are to crave applause, or even just appreciation rather than desiring that Christ be magnified in our lives. And isn't our irritability or impatience with others--whether our family members or simply that slow driver in front of us--simply an indication of our uncrucified egos? Of our (or at least my) selfish desire to ultimately get our own way?
This reminds me of a line from a Chris Tomlin song..."It will be my joy to say: Your will, Your way." Can we say that? Can we truly say, "Father, it would be my joy for You to have Your will, Your way--whatever that will and way might mean--in my life and the lives of those I love?
Pastor Ndugu was so right--we have to die to ourselves. We have to daily, hourly ask God to cross out the "I" in our lives so that we can live cross-centered lives. It's the Gal.2:20 life of being crucified with Christ so that Christ lives in us.
But here's the thing--when we die to ourselves and cross out the I, we will discover that we truly live! Eternal, abundant, joyous Life, with a capital "L!"
So Father, a simple prayer, but a life-changing one: Help us this day to "cross out the I" so that others see not the "I" but Jesus. Might we die to our selfishness, unkindness, impatience, and irritability. Might we desire to reflect Jesus far more than we need to be right. O Father, help others to see Jesus as we, by Your grace and for Your glory, cross out the "I!"
To God be the glory.
I've been reading about the lives of several remarkable women. One of them, Helen Roseveare, was a medial missionary in Africa in the Congo for many years where she founded and built several hospitals and medical training facilities (and in which she also served as a doctor and teacher). A truly remarkable woman, but her workload was almost unfathomable.
She writes honestly of the times when her temper would get the best of her or she would grow impatient and snap at those around her due to overwork and exhaustion. Boy, none of us can imagine what that would be like, I'm sure! HA! Here are her powerful and convicting words after one such incident:
"I struggled on through a few more frustratingly, irritating weeks. I knew God was speaking to me, but I would not listen...I piled up the excuses--my over weariness, my taunt nerves, the load of responsibility.
Then one morning at our Bible study hour, I broke down. The Holy Spirit was working in the hearts of African students and pupils and workmen, but not in my cold, hard heart, and I could bear it no more.
Suddenly I knew I had to get away from it all and sort myself out and seek God's forgiveness and restoration, if I was to continue in the work.
Pastor Ndugu [her African pastor] had seen my spiritual need and made all the arrangements for me to go to stay in his village for a long weekend....There he gave me a room, and left me alone. I sought God's face for two unhappy days, but I could find no peace...I knew I was quite unworthy of the title 'missionary.'
Sunday evening, Pastor Ndugu called me out to the fireside where he and his wife, Tamoma, were sitting... We prayed. A great still silence wrapped us around....
Opening his Bible at Galatians 2:20, he drew a straight line in the dirt floor with his heel. 'I,' he said, 'the capital I in our lives, Self, is the great enemy...
Helen...the trouble with you is that we can see so much of Helen that we cannot see Jesus.'
...My eyes filled with tears.
'I notice that you drink much coffee,' he continued...apparently going off on a tangent. 'When they bring a mug to you...you stand there holding it, until it is cool enough to drink. May I suggest that every time, as you stand and wait, you should just lift your heart to God and pray...' and as he spoke, he moved his heel in the dirt across the I he had previously drawn, '[and say] Please God, cross out the I.'
There in the dirt was his lesson of simplified theology--the Cross--the crossed-out I life...'I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me.' (Gal. 2:20)"
Lord, how often does that reflect me? Do folks fail to see Jesus because they see far too much "I?" O how prone we are to crave applause, or even just appreciation rather than desiring that Christ be magnified in our lives. And isn't our irritability or impatience with others--whether our family members or simply that slow driver in front of us--simply an indication of our uncrucified egos? Of our (or at least my) selfish desire to ultimately get our own way?
This reminds me of a line from a Chris Tomlin song..."It will be my joy to say: Your will, Your way." Can we say that? Can we truly say, "Father, it would be my joy for You to have Your will, Your way--whatever that will and way might mean--in my life and the lives of those I love?
Pastor Ndugu was so right--we have to die to ourselves. We have to daily, hourly ask God to cross out the "I" in our lives so that we can live cross-centered lives. It's the Gal.2:20 life of being crucified with Christ so that Christ lives in us.
But here's the thing--when we die to ourselves and cross out the I, we will discover that we truly live! Eternal, abundant, joyous Life, with a capital "L!"
So Father, a simple prayer, but a life-changing one: Help us this day to "cross out the I" so that others see not the "I" but Jesus. Might we die to our selfishness, unkindness, impatience, and irritability. Might we desire to reflect Jesus far more than we need to be right. O Father, help others to see Jesus as we, by Your grace and for Your glory, cross out the "I!"
To God be the glory.
Thursday, September 5, 2013
Trouble and our Overcomer
Mary Norris and Matt made and gave this to Janie for her high school graduation. It's made of rough wooden planks that were harshly sanded, worked over, primed, and finally painted with Janie's favorite verse. It required a lot of time, effort, and, for the wood especially, hardship! True beauty often requires some painful sanding and chiseling and struggling, doesn't it?
Reminds me of the words of A.W. Tozer: "It is doubtful whether God can bless a man greatly until He has hurt him deeply." We may not understand. We may not like it. But it's simply true. The people I love and admire best on this planet are those whose hearts have been seasoned and softened by suffering and sorrow. An unmistakable beauty emerges--hard, hard won but with a "beauty from ashes" that strengthens others and glorifies God like nothing else.
And so the words on Janie's seasoned planks emerge, clear and beautiful:
"In this world you will have trouble. But take heart; I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)
Jesus' words painted across the wood that He, our Creator, made and that He, our Redeemer, chose to die upon...for us.
Even as I write this, I hear the chorus from a hymn waft drift across: "O the wonderful cross, O the wonderful cross, bids me come and die and find that I may truly live..." O thank You, Jesus, for the harsh, hated, glorious beauty of that rough wooden cross. Your beauty from ashes.
And yes, His Word once again and always not only reveals truth but is Truth. Don't we all know that trouble always seems to find us in this world?...
But Jesus!
But our Redeemer!
But our Overcomer!
O how I love seeing those two words together in the Scriptures. And we see them over and over again: "But God demonstrates His own love for us in this: While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." (Rom.8:8) "My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever." (Ps.73:26) "But God raised Him from the dead..." (Acts 2:24) "But God will redeem my life from the grave..." (Ps.49:15) "With man this is impossible, but with God all things are possible." (Mt.19:26)
Jesus--the Creator. Jesus--the Redeemer. Jesus--the Overcomer.
Yes, trouble may seem to constantly seek and find us...but our Overcoming Savior tirelessly, relentlessly, and perfectly always, always seeks and finds His beloved children. And His seeking and finding is deeper and stronger and surer and greater than all that trouble.
So today, might we praise our "Hound of Heaven" Who never tires of relentlessly seeking and saving the lost. And Who will never ever leave or forsake His own--whether through sunshine or storms, tranquility or trouble.
He has already overcome the world--
and we are in Him and He is in us. That makes us overcomers too!
To God--our Overcomer and the One through Whom we, too, will overcome--be all the glory.
Monday, September 2, 2013
Planning a wedding...
And when they came back to the house, we were all waiting with lots of hugs and kisses and tears of joy...and a delicious Casa Carbone lasagna supper. And strawberry shortcake. Really doesn't get much better than this. (This was everyone gawking over the ring!)
And then the next day, Matt's wonderful parents came up for the weekend and a couple of Mary Norris' close friends. Really really doesn't get much better than that.
Thank the Lord for dear friends who are helping and advising us. In fact, have I said lately--thank You Father for the priceless gift of friends and family?! No telling where we would be without them.
I'm quite sure I'm the most clueless mother of the bride in the history of the world. Here's my stock response when asked multiple questions from fabulous Brenda who's in charge of receptions at the club (Praise God for Brenda!!): "Well, we haven't thought about that. What do most brides do?" Or "Gee, we have no idea about that. What do you suggest?" Or "Gosh, I don't know. Can we get back to you on that?"
Here, on the other hand, is the question my husband would like for me to be asking--it's quite simple really: "Well, how much would that cost?" Because we are learning weddings are not inexpensive affairs. My dear mama always taught me that it was the teeniest bit tacky to talk about prices and cost... my husband, however, does not agree with that philosophy. And I'm just thinking we can't have a reception with nothing but cheese and crackers. But you never know...as long as there is lots and lots of cake, we ought to be good. (Now there's one aspect of wedding planning I'm really fired up about--cake tasting. Finally, something in all these details and decisions that I ought to be pretty darn good at...but that's another blog post too.)
So, there you have it. We are in great need of mercy and grace...and wisdom and joy and patience and perseverance and hope as we enter these next exciting, but wee bit challenging, months. Aren't you glad God is a God of details...especially when we aren't? And aren't you thankful He is the Lord of perfect and infinite love...especially when we can sometimes start running on fumes in the love department? O, and don't you want to praise Him for His never ending supply of grace--for us, the often ungracious and underserving...and His bountiful mercy and forgiveness--for us, the desperately needy and sinful? And don't forget His limitless strength for the weary, joy for the joyless, and hope for the anxious.
"Have you not known? Have you not heard? The Lord is the everlasting God, the Creator of the ends of the earth. He does not faint or grow weary; His understanding is unsearchable. He gives power to the weak, and to him who have no might He increases strength. Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted; but they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint." (Isa.40:28-31)
Yep, that is our God, and there is none other!
So bring it on wedding! I may be crummy at planning...but I have a Lord who planned and created everything from far flung galaxies down to microscopic cells. I think He's got this too.
And by the way, thank You, Father, for the beautiful, priceless gift of Mary Norris and Matt and their love for You and for one another. That's what it's all about. If we were to have nothing but water and crackers at the reception but we have our Lord, and Mary Norris and Matt and love, well, we are soooo good! To God be the glory.
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