PADDLE Hard!

“When the water first hits you,” our river guide said, “your instinct is to stop paddling with the shock. But you have to keep going for us to get through.” He stood on a rock on the water’s edge, pointing to first this set of rapids and then that, describing the various hazards we’d face when we boarded our raft and attempted to navigate this next quarter-mile stretch of river. He had a plan, which he was trying to communicate to us before we got back in the boat and carried it out.

The first third of the three-mile rafting trip had been a breeze, as guide and rafters got to know each other a bit before braving the rapids together. As the raft drifted lazily along we practiced forward paddling and back paddling in unison at our leader’s command. We learned that the boat would turn when one side paddled in one direction and the other side did the reverse. When our guide yelled, “Stop!” we all rested our paddles in our laps, enjoying the beautiful scenery on either bank as the raft moved along. We gazed at an osprey nest high in the trees and looked for other wildlife on the shore before the next command brought our paddles into the water once more.

The first set of rapids had been just a little thrilling as the boat rushed through them, lifting us off the sides of the raft on which we were perched. We locked our feet more securely in the bottom of the boat and laughed a little nervously as we anticipated the more difficult water ahead.

Just before we reached the foaming white water, our guide had us put the boat to the shore. We all clambered out and followed him to the point on the shore that overlooked the raging water we were soon to pass through. It was in this stretch of more arduous going that it would be so important for us to listen to his directions and follow them explicitly. Failure to do so could cause the raft to flip and the lot of us to be tossed into the chilly water. The Deschutes River we were navigating flows through land of volcanic origin, and the stones through which the river passes are rough to the touch and very hard on exposed skin. It was definitely in our best interests to stay aboard and navigate the raft successfully through this stretch of the river’s rage.

We gripped our paddles tightly as we began our run through the rocks. The first wall of water drenched us and we gasped in surprise, only to hear our guide in the back of the boat yell, “Paddle hard!” as the raft tilted and bounced as it rushed downstream in the furious water. Lost completely in the angry white foam, we concentrated on following the directions of this leader we couldn’t see but who shouted his instructions to us from the back of the boat. We paddled furiously and then cheered in exhilaration when we emerged dripping wet but deliriously happy into the slower water once more, boat and all occupants miraculously intact. Two smaller sets of rapids added excitement to the rest of the trip, but for the most part we simply relaxed, played water games, or watched the antics of the rafters in the other boats in our group.

Twenty-four hours after the experience the two-word command “Paddle hard!” still echoes in my ears. I realize how important it was that we kept our oars moving in the water at our leader’s command, despite the waterlogged chaos surrounding us. So often in life we don’t do that. We let the shock of the circumstances crashing around us stop us cold. Then we find ourselves in even greater hardship, perhaps losing our grasp on the situation and tossed into trouble from which we find it impossible to emerge unscathed. The only way to successfully navigate through our difficulties is to listen and follow the instructions of the One Who sits in the boat with us and yet knows what we do not, and to paddle hard… doing what He tells us to do without question until He tells us to stop or to do something different. It’s then that we’ll emerge victorious to the smoother sailing on the other side.

God allows us to celebrate our victories, but only for a time, reminding us to regroup and refocus for the bigger battles that are surely just around the bend.

“…fear not, but let your hands be strong.”
(Zechariah 8:13 KJV)

OVERJOYED

I understand the meaning of the word “overjoyed”. I saw it acted out before me each morning and evening – any time my husband walked back into the life of our puppy after an absence of some kind, whether it had been an 8-hour day at work or an 8-hour sleep at night. The minute he entered the room he was body-slammed by a wriggling mass of delighted dog, whose joy at being reunited with his master was expressed in every way imaginable.

All the dog’s body parts seemed to be moving at once – tail banging the door frame and furniture, feet prancing from side to side, head and body twisting back and forth as fast as those parts could move. At the same time he was growling his greeting and nipping and chewing on anything that moved in response. In his excitement he even lost control of certain bodily functions, making it necessary to mop floors and shoes when the love-fest had lost some if its initial intensity!

And my husband loved every minute of it! He never tired of it – it was not an experience that grew old in repetition. He came home from a week-long business trip one night, and happy as he was to be returning home to me and our boys, I’m sure it was the thought of the welcome he was about to receive from his dog that put the smile on his face as he drove! As it turned out, I was in the shower when he came through the door, and the boys were playing video games in the basement. But the dog didn’t disappoint him. Without being there to see it myself I know that his ears perked up at the sound of the garage door opening… and that at the slam of the car door he was up and in the doorway waiting, his body already shivering in eager anticipation.

What would happen in our church services if we waited for our Master to enter the house in the same way? If we anticipated His arrival while we were yet on our way to church, and were ready to shout our praise and welcome the moment the first chords were hit on the keyboard and God’s Presence began to fill the room? Can you imagine His delight to find those He loves so glad to see Him, so anxious to spend time with Him again, so ready to adore Him?

And sometimes we do welcome Him in just that way. Our church body shakes and shivers as people react to His Presence in various ways – some jump, others shout, groan, wave their arms or dance in joy before Him. Still others just weep, fall to their knees, or lie before Him and soak in the wonder of His Presence among us. God doesn’t mind that our church services are a little messier than they used to be. He would so much rather we react to Him like this than that we not even notice as He walks among us because our minds are so busy with other things – planning menus, making mental shopping lists or looking forward to our Sunday afternoon naps. Welcoming and rejoicing in His Presence should be the sole reason we come to church, rather than the afterthought we sometimes make it.

The dictionary defines the word “overjoyed” as simply “filled with great joy”. I don’t think that goes nearly far enough. To me it’s an overflow of the heart, as expressed in physical and verbal demonstrations of wonder and incredible happiness. However you describe it, it’s a fitting response to the entrance of the King.

“…in thy presence is fullness of joy…”
(Psalm 16:11)

NEW Experiences with Old Friends

The book came to an end just as my Florida vacation did the same. Days earlier I had been surprised and delighted to find it in the book section of my grocery store after wishing my favorite secular author would put out something new in time for my trip. I’m normally a library patron, not usually having the funds to spring for the hardcover version of the new releases on the bestseller list. I force myself to add my name to a waiting list there or postpone the read til it comes out in paperback. But not this time. With my trip just two days away, I laid my money on the counter, tucked the book under my arm and then in my carry-on bag, waiting til I was seated at the gate at the airport before cracking the cover. My anticipation of a great story and my excitement over my travel plans were both at fever pitch!

Thankfully the book didn’t disappoint me. As usual, I flipped through the pages relentlessly, staying up late after visiting all day to sneak in an extra chapter or two before falling asleep, and picking it up with delight when insomnia attacked in the middle of the night. Of all possible locations, the book was set in Italy, a place near and dear to my heart. Descriptions of the people, places and FOOD in the novel matched those I’d experienced myself in my one visit there several years ago, and catapulted what would normally have been just another good read to a literary experience of the highest caliber. I thoroughly enjoyed traveling anew to a favorite country with this writer who’s given me so many pleasurable literary vacations in the past. Truly it was a wonderful new experience with an old friend.

Those words likewise perfectly describe my Florida vacation, although perhaps in this instance the word “old” should be printed in capitals, italicized and possibly underlined, as well (just kidding, Mary!). Her birthday was the excuse I needed to visit her in far-away Florida. But it wasn’t just any birthday, mind you. This was her 40th, a biggie. How gracious of her to age to this extent, just so I could come and visit! I have fewer years to spare than she does, so if one of us had to sacrifice one for our reunion, she was definitely the one to do it. She didn’t seem to mind.

Surprisingly, I learned some things about Mary that I didn’t know before. And she discovered some new aspects to my personality, as well. Expecting me to comfort and support her as she entered her 4th decade, she was surprised that I instead took the opportunity to razz her every chance I got. I was finally honest about my feelings towards her favorite footwear, preferring the “crocs” you find in the water to the ones she wears on her feet. Surely she was also amazed that I didn’t take a single nap while in her company, despite the tedium of her senile ramblings at times. No, we were much too busy to waste time in sleep. There were sights to see, stores to shop, meals to eat, trails to hike, even alligators to find (from a distance, of course). There were movies to watch, people to meet, and of course, her birthday to celebrate. The days were packed full of new experiences with an old (OLD!) friend. I loved them all.

Those same words likewise describe my relationship with God. Our friendship dates back to a Sunday morning some 32 years ago now, and truly has become deeper and richer over time. Yet my experiences with Him are still as fresh as a new day breaking. He can still make me laugh or cry with a sentence or a look, and just one Word out of His mouth or in His Book can change my attitudes, my actions,… my life.

You know, a book is new only until you’ve traveled through its pages from cover to cover one time. My time with Mary was new only until we ran out of things to do (we didn’t) or until my return flight home eventually left the airport (it did). But my experiences with God can be new every day (Lamentations 3:23) – they never come to an end. Likewise I never have to say goodbye to Him or wait months for the next chance to see Him. He’s always available and I can walk in His Presence continually. He will never leave me nor forget the promises He’s made to me (Deuteronomy 4:31).

I love my favorite author because I trust him not to lace his characters’ conversations with profanity nor place them in lifestyle situations that would cause me to put his books aside. I likewise treasure my friendship with Mary because of its constancy. The love between us is not diminished by the difference in our ages, the miles betweens our homes nor the months in-between our chances to be together. How much more, then, do I trust God, the Author of Life, to do me good and not evil all the days of my life, to extend His mercies new to me each morning, and to be that Friend Who sticks closer than a brother…(or even an aging “sister”)?! Stories reach a conclusion, vacations come to a close, but truly a relationship with God can be a journey of joy that never comes to an end.

“Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”
(Lamentations 3:23-24 NIV)

A MOTHER'S Prayers

Her motherhood experience was a surprise from beginning to end. The first surprise came while she was lying on the examining table in the middle of her second ultrasound. Staring intently at the screen she saw something she hadn't seen in the first such procedure weeks earlier - a second baby! The technician was as surprised as she, and quickly checked the earlier results to make sure that the procedure had been done correctly and completely. Surprise turned into shock at the unexpected discovery, and then gradually dissipated into wonder and delight. She set about the task of nurturing her babies to the best of her ability for however long she'd be able to carry them.

The second surprise came in the form of labor pains that arrived in the 29th month of her pregnancy. Rushed to the hospital, her doctors worked to stop the birth process, hoping to give the babies more time in the womb. The best they could do was stall it for another week. On a cold and snowy Sunday morning in January, at only 30 weeks of age and weighing just over three pounds each, the twins made their arrival and were quickly rushed into intensive care.

The neo-natal center was not a surprise to this mother. She'd been through the worry and fear associated with this area of the hospital before, after the premature birth of her first daughter, almost exactly five years earlier. Familiar already with a routine foreign to most new parents, she resigned herself to weeks of daily commutes to the hospital to feed and connect with her twin daughters.

Those first several weeks of their lives were very different from what most mothers experience in the birth of their newborns, and so the method in which she mothered her children was likewise different as well. A new mom's day is normally filled with diaper changes, feedings and baby baths. Her days were filled with prayer. When incubators separated her babies from her touch, she touched God with her tears. Denied the opportunity to hold her children in her arms, she held God's attention with her pleas on their behalf.

Nightly before she left the hospital she would open the incubators one at a time, lay her hand on each tiny chest and ask God to do for her babies what she could not - to heal their heart murmurs, bolster their breathing abilities and soothe any digestive distress in their stomachs. She was neither shy nor quiet as she asked Him to hold them for her in the night, to cradle them in His love and rock them in His sheltering arms. When a doctor raised his eyebrows over her evening practice of prayer she looked him in the eye and said, "You have your job to do; I have mine. Your job is to treat them physically; mine, as their mother, is to pray."

Her words speak to all of us, whether our children are sleeping tonight in a hospital, are tucked safely in their beds at home or are on their own somewhere out in the world. As mothers we carry our kids in the womb for the first months of their lives and then on our hips for years after that. We carry dinner to the table, dirty laundry to the washing machine and groceries in from the car. Yet it's when we carry our children in prayer to the foot of the cross that we're most the mothers God created us to be.

“…The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.”
(James 5:16 KJV)

LIVING a LIFE of LOVE and LAUGHTER

“Whatever.”

The word jumped out at me during my devotional reading tonight. I stopped in mid-sentence and gave it another look. Taken by itself, removed from the company of its neighbors in the sentence, it has the strange ability to make me smile. It triggers a mental picture of a goofy friend of mine, a teenage cashier at the grocery store where I work, and her usual reaction to almost any suggestion or comment of mine. She rolls her eyes, forms a “W” with the thumbs and forefingers of her hands and mouths, “What-ever” in as bored a voice as she can muster. It never fails to make both of us break out in laughter.

Laughter. That is what God wants for me – a life abounding in love and laughter, according to the Scripture passage I just read: “Always be joyful. Pray continually, and give thanks whatever happens. This is what God wants for you in Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 NCV, emphasis mine).

Always be joyful. How awesome it is that we serve a God Who wants us to laugh and be happy! But many of us face real life situations that are anything but. And yet this passage seems to say that God expects a positive reaction, whatever happens to us.

Thankfully He doesn’t expect us to drum up those positive feelings on our own. Instead He Himself provides the solution to our dilemma in the three words which end the passage: “in Christ Jesus.” When we are in relationship with His Son – hidden in Him, living in Him, relying on Him – then He shoulders our problems. And with our burdens thus lifted we are left with just three responsibilities: Be joyful. Pray continually. And give thanks… whatever comes our way. Surprisingly, the first comes easy when you focus on the second and the third.

Pray continually. But God doesn’t want an endless recitation of the same problems, day after day. In His eyes, prayer is synonymous with “casting our care” (1 Peter 5:7). Yet He doesn’t mean “casting” like a fisherman casts a line, only to reel it back in and cast again. When we cast our care on God we give whatever is bothering us over to Him completely, taking our hands off of it, once and for all. Once given, it belongs to Him. He is far better able to handle our problems than we are. What a relief it is to be able to turn our troubles over to Him!

Once you’ve given away a problem, it’s only natural to thank Him for taking it. And we need to do so before we even see His solution to our concerns. That is what faith is all about – trusting that God will be true to the promises in His Word. Giving thanks ahead of time exhibits that belief and activates God. Over and over in the Scriptures we see God moving when faith, belief and trust are present. Likewise His hands are tied when they are absent. Thus we need to thank God whatever happens, so that He can fix the situation for us.

After that, it’s easy to be joyful. And what better witness is there to others about the greatness of your God than the smile on your face and the laughter in your heart?

I love it when God gives me a picture to illustrate a point. When troubles come my way He reminds me that Jesus was a teenager once, too. Can I picture Jesus rolling His eyes, forming a “W” with the fingers of His hands and muttering a bored, “What-ever” to anything His Father God has to say?! No, but it does make my laughter come bubbling forth… and that just may have been what God had in mind all along.

“I have told you these things, that My joy and delight may be in you, and that your joy and gladness may be of full measure and complete and overflowing.”
(John 15:11 AMP)

KEYBOARD Catastrophe

The pager beeped loudly in the middle of the night, causing my sleeping husband to stir in the bed beside me. Reaching slowly for his glasses and cell phone on the headboard of the bed, he was soon calling in to the office to find out what the trouble was. Minutes later he climbed out of bed and stumbled in the dark towards the computer. Mindful that his wife was hoping to fall back asleep, he kept the lights off and so didn’t see the half-full glass of Gatorade sitting on the desk. As he moved to switch on the monitor he accidentally knocked it over, dumping the contents directly on the keyboard in front of him. Then the lights came on in a hurry, and the mopping up and wiping down process began. When we had cleaned things up as best we could and he had finished the work required of him, we turned the keyboard upside down on some paper towels, hoping that any moisture left inside would drain out and not cause us any problems further down the road.

At first the keyboard seemed to have been unaffected by the ordeal it had been through. For two days after the disaster it worked perfectly. But suddenly on the third day some of the keys wouldn’t go down at all, or refused to come back up once depressed. I TRied toooooo send an email t my sister, but te sentences came oooout lking like this. It was a spell-check nightmare, to be sure. Initially I laughed, but after several minutes of struggling on in like manner I was soon so frustrated that I was ready to unplug the thing and simply toss it in the trash.

Thankfully my husband has more patience than I do. He pried off the keys that were not working properly and put them in a glass of water to soak. Then he wiped down the newly exposed interior as best he could and set it aside. When the individual keys were clean and dry he began to put the keyboard back together, piece by piece. A short time later we were able to type freely and easily on it once more.

The keyboard didn’t ask to be doused with a sports drink; it just happened. And many of the life experiences we struggle with likewise come upon us through no fault of our own. At first it may seem that we’ve come through the situation unscathed, but over time the damage to our faith and belief systems becomes apparent. Many still struggle on at this point, but gradually our unresolved hurts cause the message we are trying to convey to become garbled or lost entirely in its delivery. Our ministries then too hindered to be continued, we seem to be halted completely, not just in the work we’ve been called to, but likewise in our relationship with God. Friends, family and even sometimes we ourselves grow impatient with our inability to cope and continue on with our lives as they once were. We feel disgraced and discarded, and powerless to change a thing about our situation.

Some still plod on, despite their lack of effectiveness. Sadly, others turn away completely from the faith walk they once trod, never to return. And yet there are others who cry out to God for the help and healing they can’t find on their own, only to discover that He has been quietly waiting in the wings to provide both.

While recovery methods and times vary, often they involve a period of separation from the posts we once held, allowing us the time and freedom to soak in the Living Water of God’s Spirit while He wipes away our tears. Little by little He cleans us up and puts us back together, eventually restoring us completely to our positions of usefulness in His kingdom.

As it turned out, we brought our keyboard back to its place of purpose a little too quickly. Once again the space bar started to stick, so we again set the keyboard aside, temporarily replacing it with an older model until it received further cleaning and care. We likewise are warned not to rush God’s hand and our own healing processes, but to give both the freedom to do a complete work in us, trusting that God is able to not just restore us completely to our earlier ministries but to develop in us a greater compassion, insight and understanding toward others as a result of all we’ve been through.

Our individual “keyboard catastrophes” aren’t always the disasters we sometimes think them to be, but merely avenues to greater blessing and usefulness as tools in God’s hands to use as He chooses in the work of the Kingdom.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are called according to His purpose.”
(Romans 8:28 MKJV)

JOY in the JOURNEY

Knowing full well that I should've been changing the cats' litter box, mopping the kitchen floor or cleaning out the bedroom closet, I changed instead into my baggy sweatpants, put on my comfy tennis shoes, grabbed a map, the binoculars, my camera and the ever-present cup of coffee… and took off. I was on a mission to find the elusive great blue heron rookery that I'd read about in Sunday's paper.

I have a fascination with blue herons. Beautiful enough to look at while standing still, they are a magnificent sight in flight. Ever since the evening I was sitting in a boat on a nearby lake and saw one lift off the water and fly across the setting sun, I've been hooked. Now I look for them everywhere and occasionally see them in creeks and other waterways, or sometimes flying overhead.

And so the article in Sunday's paper caught my eye. I couldn't imagine seeing their nesting colony - large numbers of them in close proximity, working together to raise their young. I set off to find it, knowing it wouldn't be easy to track down. The columnist refused to reveal the rookery's location, noting that the herons had abandoned an earlier one in the same county when the Department of Wildlife attracted too much attention to the area. The birds like to be left alone, to nest in seclusion. The only clue to aid me in my search was a stream name the author had mentioned once in an earlier column on the same subject. I headed off in that direction, driving carefully with the radio off and my windows rolled down, hoping to hear the squawking sound of the birds together or catch sight of one in the air overhead. Looking for the large nests high in the branches of sycamore trees, I had my eyes on the skyline as much as on the road before me.

In the same way, I'm on a mission to find the glory of God - to discover His dwelling place - the secret place of the Most High. Looking for it is an adventure that causes me to abandon other pursuits and to leave other desires behind. I travel carefully, with my tools beside me; my map (the Word of God), my binoculars (the Holy Spirit), and my camera (my prayer journal, in which I record my discoveries). I travel carefully, with my ears open to the sound of His call, looking for a sign of Him that will lead me in His direction. God’s Word promises that we will find Him when we search for Him with all our hearts.

I didn't find the rookery in today's search, but I’ll look for it again another day. Yet I did see some things I'd never seen before - a huge, empty nest, perhaps built by herons, high in a sycamore tree… a pileated woodpecker on a tree by the side of the road, and a wild turkey – it’s hard to say which of us was more surprised to see the other! Most importantly, I had an absolutely wonderful time in my search… which may have been the whole point of the afternoon. Maybe the message God wanted me to glean from the experience was that the joy in the journey itself is a big part of the glory at the end of the road.

“You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.”
(Jeremiah 29:13)

Put IT Down and Leave IT Down

All puppies love to play, and ours was no exception. I suppose at almost two years of age his puppyhood was really behind him, but Zion didn’t seem to know that. Anytime any of us sat down in a chair - anywhere - inside the house or out, he invaded our space with his smiling face, a slobbery ball clenched tightly between his teeth, begging us to throw it for him. We'd have been happy to do what he asked… if he'd just let go of the ball. That he was not willing to do. In his mind the best part of the game was having you try to pry it loose from his jaws, risking the health of your fingers in the process as he fought you every wet and disgusting inch of the way.

It was a game my husband, Jim, was no longer willing to play. He'd gladly throw the ball, but he began to insist that the dog drop it out of his mouth first. Every time Zion brought him the ball from that point on, Jim gently but firmly instructed him to put it down. He refused to get involved in the game to a larger degree until the dog cooperated and dropped it down in front of him, often repeating his command with increasing volume and intensity until Zion obeyed. After that he had to add the further instruction to also leave it down, because when he did lay it down he wanted to snatch it back up again, just seconds before our extended hands could reach it.

Zion knew what he was supposed to do, he just wanted to play the game his way. He had a tendency to take his toy and go off in a corner to sulk like a frustrated child, but he learned that if he wanted Jim to participate at all, he had to play by his master's rules.

The lesson was for his own good. Few people are willing to stick their hand in a dog's wet mouth to remove a slippery ball that the animal obviously wants to keep. Thus his list of prospective playmates was small. Should he learn a new way to play the game, he'd have many more people to play with and his life would be happier as a result. For that reason I tried to support my husband in his training efforts, reinforcing the lessons by likewise limiting my willingness to play to those times when the dog did what he was supposed to do.

But it was hard. I found it hard to resist such a bundle of playful energy when he stood before me, tail wagging, his puppy heart visible in his eyes. But I knew I'd only make things more difficult for him in the long run, prolonging the training sessions and subjecting him to more open rebuke down the road if I gave in. My indulgence confused the dog and confounded my husband's training efforts. For his own good I had to be consistent in my actions.

We all too often play the same game with God. It's not our intention, of course. When we bring our burdens to Him we are rarely in a lighthearted or playful mood. But our actions reflect our immaturity in much the same way that my dog's puppy nature was revealed by his. We bring our problems to God and yet have a hard time releasing them to Him. It's almost as if we expect God to pry them loose from our tightly clenched hold. When we do finally respond to His request to lay them down, we have a tendency to snatch them up again before He can pick them up and throw them into the "Sea of Forgetfulness" where they belong. He longs to put them away forever, but we don't allow that to happen. Like my dog, who watched carefully where a thrown ball landed before racing off to retrieve it, we, too, watch where God discards our refuse only to go get it once more and bring it back to Him repeatedly to deal with again.

It's not just the bad things in our lives that we need to lay down, however. Releasing our hold on good things like our finances, our gifts and abilities, laying them down for God to pick up and use as He desires can also open the door to wonderful new experiences in Him. We have to resist the urge to pick them up again ourselves, to use as we think best. Instead they must be totally surrendered to Him and His purposes, whatever they may be.

Too often we're guilty of indulging each other, allowing our friends to bring to us what they should've left at the altar, prying for details and allowing them to chew on situations awhile that were better left to lay where they'd been dropped. In doing so we hinder God's attempts to help them reach spiritual maturity by living life God's way. If we truly love them, we'll desire for them the greater blessings that are to be found in obedience. "Put it down and leave it down" is advice that leads to a whole new ball game, not just for the dogs in God's animal kingdom, but also in Kingdom living for His kids.

"And I will give unto thee the keys of the kingdom of heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt bind on earth shall be bound in heaven: and whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth shall be loosed in heaven."
(Matthew 16:19)

From HORROR to HOPE

It began with the clocks. My son noticed that almost every day he happened to look up and check the time just as the digital display on his timepiece read 9:11. Sometimes he caught it both morning and night on the same day. The numbers followed him to his job in a clothing store, where his attention would be arrested upon handing a customer exactly $9.11 in change from the cash register. He’d be straightening the piles of size 9 jeans in the display case and suddenly note that the size 11 jeans were right above them.

Once he mentioned it to me, I began to have the same experience. It wasn’t long before I was texting him about the rump roast that went across the scanner at my register in the grocery store and rang up at nine dollars and eleven cents. Or I’d mention to him when I got home from work about the order that totaled $91.10 and likewise caught my eye.

After a while it became apparent that we weren’t the only ones who saw the numbers 9 and 11 everywhere we went. His friend had a similar experience with the clocks, always noting the time just when it was eleven minutes past the ninth hour. Even his brother mentioned an eerie experience at school in which two friends stopped by his desk to chat, both wearing football jerseys, the one on the left sporting the number 9 while the one on the right bore the number 11.

The truth is that people everywhere notice the numbers 9 and 11 together, and instantly their minds go back to the terror attacks of September 11, 2001, and the devastation that followed. I daresay never before has the numerical representation of a date in history been so etched in people’s memory that the mere reference of the two numbers together instantly causes our emotions to tumble towards despair and discouragement. Forces of evil in our world had a plan for destruction that they carried out that day. In the spiritual realm we likewise have an enemy that seeks to kill and destroy (John 10:10), and it’s not by chance that those numbers appear together before us so often, but rather his intention to continually remind us of fear and defeat.

Many people have experienced personal catastrophes that have nothing whatsoever to do with the events of September 11, 2001, but that have created devastation and havoc in their homes, hearts, and lives, just the same. And daily, they, too, are faced with inescapable reminders of that which they’ve lost. Perhaps it’s the facial features of a spouse lost to death or divorce that they see in the eyes and smiles of the children they had together. Maybe it’s the familiar landmarks in a neighborhood they still have to drive through but no longer live in due to job loss and financial collapse. Or it could be a certain curve in the road marked with a small, white cross that stamps a symbolic “9/11” across the day their world changed forever.

Nowhere, however, was the devil given dibs on the numbers 9 and 11. Perhaps God is looking to reclaim them, to instill in us the positive emotions of hope, peace and goodwill that are associated with them all through His Word. He, too, has plans for us, perhaps stated best in a signature 9/11 verse in the Bible, that found in Jeremiah 29:11, which reads, “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.’”

On a whim I started looking up the 9:11 verses in the Bible and found that hope, peace, provision and protection are associated with them throughout the Word of God. It’s in Genesis 9:11 that God promises never again to destroy the earth with a flood. Numbers 9:11 establishes the annual celebration of Passover, the day when God spared His people from death and delivered them out of slavery. The same verse in Nehemiah is a reference to when God parted the Red Sea for His people to pass through on their way to freedom, while provision and protection is promised to the widows and fatherless children in Jeremiah 49:11.

Never should we forget the lives lost on 9/11/01 and the sacrifice, courage and heroism of the first responders and those involved in later recovery efforts. But neither should we forget the sacrifice of Jesus on the cross, an action that defeated death forever and gave birth to the promises of good things to come that we find in the 9/11 verses of the New Testament (Matthew 7:9-11, 2 Corinthians 9:11, Hebrews 9:11 KJV, Revelation 19:11, ). His sacrifice is in vain if we let the devil steal away the joy and hope He purchased for us that day. May the 9/11s we see today instead inspire thoughts of a new beginning, a fresh start…a reminder of a glorious future rather than a destructive and depressing past.

It occurred to me recently that I use the 9/11 sightings in my life as an opportunity to connect with my son. God simply suggests we do the same with His.

“But [that appointed time came] when Christ (the Messiah) appeared as a High Priest of the better things that have come and are to come…”
(Hebrews 9:11 AMP, emphasis mine)

GREEN and GROWING

I sat on the balcony of our hotel room, sipping coffee and watching the gardener tend to the plants in the atrium below. In what must’ve been a morning ritual, the woman hooked a particular nozzle on to her garden hose and gave the waiting plants their morning shower. It’s strange, but I could almost feel their delight. I was reminded of feeding time at a zoo and the many times I’ve seen the lions and tigers (and bears? Oh my…) pace behind the bars of their cages in anticipation of an upcoming meal. Plants are not so mobile, but I wondered if they feel an equally intense yet less visible excitement as their caretaker approaches and hooks up her hose to the water spout! Surely their early morning watering is the high point of their day and perhaps the very reason that the conservatory which stretched below me was filled with healthy, thriving plants.

Perhaps our spiritual gardens would be as verdant if we Christians found the same delight in our morning meeting time with our Creator! Washed free of yesterday’s grime, our thirst slaked, our hunger satisfied… our only concern would then be to grow and radiate the joy of living in such a lovely spiritual place.

Returning to the balcony an hour later with a second cup of brew, I saw that the gardener was likewise back, this time clipping off the dead leaves she found and throwing them in the trash. I was surprised that she was able to find any leaves to clip - they surely weren’t visible to me in the overwhelming mass of green foliage below. But she seemed to know where to look for them, reaching deep in one pocket of greenery after another to pull out brown and curling leaves that were as yet invisible to the casual observer, removing them before their condition became more obvious and spoiled the overall look of the plant.

How awesome that God does exactly that with us. He knows the exact location of every dead and dying aspect of our existence, be it a bad attitude in one corner of our heart, an unforgiven wrong lying just beneath the surface of the face we present to the world, or a hurt of some kind that’s buried in the depths of our soul. God reaches deep and plucks that rotten part of our personality out before it becomes visible and mars the witness we present to a watching world… if He gets the chance.

You see, sometimes I don’t show up for my morning grooming. Unlike the plants I saw below me, I am able to move at will… and I frequently will myself to move in too many directions at once rather than sit for a bit and wait on God’s will.

It happened to me this morning. Away for a week on a vacation with my sister, we had a full day of activities planned. I was the first awake and felt a yearning in my soul to find a morning meeting place with God. But not wanting to disturb my sis with my pre-dawn wanderings, I succumbed to my laziness and the lure of the comfy blankets and pillows, and stayed in bed instead. There wasn’t another chance to get away with God before the day was well underway. I didn’t think about it again till many hours later when we were struggling to find our way on unfamiliar freeways in a driving rainstorm. Tension was as thick as the moisture-laden clouds above us, and I snapped an impatient response to my sister’s attempts at navigation. I quickly apologized, but later wondered if my momentary grouchiness was just the result of the stress of the moment… or perhaps was a “dead leaf” in my spiritual garden that God would’ve snipped if I’d given Him a chance to tend to my life this morning as I knew He desired.

And so I entered the New Year with new resolve. When for whatever reason I’m tempted to skip out on a morning grooming session I’ll remember the gorgeous view from that balcony and remind myself of how the healthy condition of each individual plant contributed to the beauty of the whole. Likewise I want to be a positive part of the Kingdom of God, not a weak and wilted specimen that’s destined for the compost pile because I gave in too often to the desire to dally in bed awhile.

“Search me, O God, and know my heart; try me and know my thoughts: And see if there be any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting.”
(Psalm 139:23-24 KJV)

FOOT Notes

It’s been a busy nine days, and my feet have a lot to show for it.

Frankly, they’re a mess. Blisters have erupted on the heels and in-between the toes where shoes rubbed skin that was not used to the pressure. Dirt from dusty mountain trails has worked its way so deeply into the soles that even repeated scrubbings with soap and water fail to dislodge it. They’ve plummeted through icy water on a river rafting trip, were repeatedly doused in salty seawater and have baked in the sun and hot sand they traveled through. Sunburnt and dry in some places, there are open sores in others where particles of sand were trapped between skin and sandal and rubbed the flesh raw. In short, they’ve had a rough couple of weeks and are in desperate need of some pampering. They could use a few long soaks in a tub filled with warm soap water, a good session or two with a pumice stone, lathering in lotion and maybe perhaps even a Band-Aid or two. But all that can wait till my vacation travels are over and I find myself home once more. Until then I bathe them at night, bandage the worst of the wounds by day, and walk on them some more.

Amazingly, I’m proud of them in their burnt and blistered state. Their condition boasts that they didn’t sit idle as I visited new places. Instead they’re almost a travel diary in themselves of new experiences and opportunities explored and enjoyed. And as I look at them I wonder what condition my spiritual feet are in and what they might have to say about my Christian walk I wonder if they likewise speak of new adventures in the spirit or would instead shame me with a pristine condition that speaks of too much time on the sidelines. Have I ventured out on to new paths in the Spirit that take me to the high places with God, never minding the bumps and bruises I experience along the way, or have I merely sat safely at home and read about spiritual adventures others have taken? Have I plunged into the river of God, risking the rapids that threaten to dislodge me, or merely listened to the stories of others who braved the trip, envious of the thrills and chills they experienced as a result? Have I simply looked out at the world around me or did I get out and experience it firsthand, hiking miles perhaps through wind and waves and spiritually changeable weather?

Likewise my spiritual feet won’t get the pampering they deserve until I finally arrive safely Home. Till then there’s plenty of work to be done as I go about my Father’s business. Christ still washes the feet of His servants through the saints that He sends our way, fellow Christians who use the gifts He’s placed inside of them to wash off the trail dust we’ve collected, minister to our sore spots and refresh and encourage us as we continue along the way.

The more battered my spiritual feet look to me, the better they look to God. The important thing is to keep them moving. I have a feeling He doesn’t think much of feet that simply stand still.

“How beautiful upon the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news, who proclaim peace, who bring good tidings, who proclaim salvation, who say to Zion, ‘Your God reigns!’”!
(Isaiah 52:7 NIV)

The DAYS of Our Lives

On January 8th, 2002, President George W. Bush came to Hamilton, Ohio, to sign the education reform bill into law. It was a big day for a little town. Excitement escalated rapidly in the days before his visit, as the high school principal met with Secret Service agents to discuss security measures, last-minute landscaping operations beautified the grounds around the school, and city officials worked out the details of traffic flow. It all came to a head on the morning of the day itself, when schoolchildren ran out of their classrooms into schoolyards in sub-freezing weather (without their coats!) to wave as the helicopters carrying the presidential party flew overhead. Those individuals lucky enough to obtain tickets to the event were the envy of their classmates, families and friends. And almost everyone in town, it seemed, watched the event live on the local TV broadcast.

Now, several weeks after the event, a photo collage of the occasion is being offered for sale in stores in the Hamilton area. Hundreds of tiny photos taken that day are grouped together in such a way that, when viewed as a unit from a distance, they form a picture of President Bush. Perhaps you've seen the same technique used in television and magazine ads recently. The end result is a striking image that has caught my attention each time I've stopped at the store. I always have to move in for a closer look. I'm sure that many of those people who were in the high school auditorium that day have looked to see if their likeness was perhaps captured in one of the photos that make up the image of the president. My gaze has always drifted eventually to the price list posted by the photo display, causing me to move on quickly to whatever shopping I came into the store to do.

But God used that photo to remind me that as Christians, each day of our lives is a snapshot of a moment in time with the Lord. Day after day as our lives unfold, the pictures accumulate, until at some point in time we can look back and likewise see an image form out of the collection of our days - a picture of Jesus Christ. If He truly lives in us, then He will be reflected in our lives for the world to see. The more photos in our collection (the more experiences we have in Christ), the clearer the image of Him will be.

So often we are guilty of wishing away the days of difficulty in our walk with Him. We delight in the sunshine of His blessing, but ask that the dark days of suffering and pain be spared us, or at least cut short in our lives. Yet Christ is as present with us when we hurt as He is when we're happy, and the photos of those days make a sharper image of Christ in our lives for a watching world to see.

Once we become Christians we no longer live our lives for ourselves. Rather, our whole purpose on earth now becomes to make Christ visible to others. Therefore we should delight in whatever each new day brings, be it joy unspeakable, unbearable sorrow, or any emotion inbetween, knowing that allowing Christ to have His way in us on that day will bring His image in our lives that much more in focus to others.

Once His likeness becomes visible in your life, people around you will move in for a closer look. They'll look to see if they can see themselves in any of the situations you've been through. And who knows but that what they see in your "photo collage" may propel them into a relationship with Jesus of their own, out of which the image of Christ may likewise someday arise.

To buy the picture of President Bush in that photo collection will cost you an arm and a leg. To purchase the image of Christ in the midst of our days cost Jesus His life. We should therefore live those days in a manner worthy of the price He paid.

"This is the day which the LORD hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it."
(Psalms 118:24)

I'll CARRY You

He stood in the grass, sobbing, unable to walk any further, the loose Band-Aid hanging lopsidedly from the bloody knee he'd skinned mere moments before. This three-year-old son of our associate pastor was heading to where his father was closing down an afternoon of music ministry at a local park. He wanted to show his dad what had happened to him - to be held close and comforted in his loving arms, knowing that his father would somehow make everything in his world right again.

But he couldn't get there. His sore knees made walking difficult, and so he just stood where he'd stopped, seeing his dad still impossibly far away, and crying in his pain and despair. About all I could do for him was reattach his Band-Aid and talk to him reassuringly. But his dad caught sight of him, saw his tears, and came running. I left when he arrived but took away with me the picture of this father kneeling beside his child, saying, "I'm here, Son. I'll carry you wherever you need to go."

It's not like the father didn’t have anything else to do. After an afternoon at the park his evening is filled with dismantling sound equipment, taking down a tent, and loading everything in trucks and vans to be transported back to the church. Once there it had to be unloaded and set in place in time for a church service the following evening. He had hours of work still ahead of him. But all that was forgotten when he saw his son's tears. Of all the positions he holds in life, the job title that means the most to him is "Dad". He dropped everything to be by his son's side in his time of need. Nothing is more important to him - ever - than the well being of his child.

Each of us is likely to face times in our lives when we'll stand in this little boy's shoes - wounded and in pain, wanting to get to our Father but seemingly unable to reach Him on our own. We get to a point where we feel we simply can't go on and stand there in tears, looking hopelessly to where we want to be. The limbs that have carried us to His side in times past seem to fail us just when we need them most.

It's hard to reach God on our own when we're hurt, sick or in pain. We find it more difficult during these times to stay focused on Him - it's harder to pray and study the Word, and often impossible to attend church services. The enemy tries to convince us that we're losing ground with God just when we need Him the most. But the Holy Spirit reminds us that God's love for us is in no way affected by our inability during these times to reach out to Him in the way we're accustomed to. His love for us remains strong, because it's not based on what we can do but rather on who He is - our loving Father. Like any good dad, His love is constant and perhaps directed towards us in a special way when we need it the most.

Others' attempts to minister to us during these times often accomplish little other than to straighten the Band-Aids which cover our wounds and reassure us with their words of hope. Sometimes we just need more than that. And so God comes to us. He does what this young father did - He sees our tears and comes running. And He wants us to know that if need be, He'll carry us all the way Home.

"We are children of God… So too the [Holy] Spirit comes to our aid and bears us up in our weakness… For I am persuaded beyond doubt (am sure) that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities, nor things impending and threatening nor things to come, nor powers, Nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."
(Romans 8:16,26, 38&39 AMP)

The Bethlehem BABE

"It will be worth it when you see the baby at the end."

Such was the promise of the patient church worker who herded us through the seemingly endless turnings of a line that resembled something you'd see at an amusement park rather than at a Christmas nativity display. We'd stood outside in the cold wind for the first 45 minutes of our wait before at last reaching the warmth of the lit building. But as we gratefully crossed the threshold we were dismayed to find not yet the live scene we were looking for. Rather, we entered a roomful of people moving slowly down the length and breadth of the building in long lines that snaked towards the closed and guarded door at the far side of the room. Periodically that door would open and 35-40 lucky people would head into the display, leaving the rest of us to shuffle a little closer to the front each time.

This was not what we expected when we decided to attend the Bethlehem Experience, an annual production of the Eaton Church of the Brethren in Eaton, Ohio. We thought we'd arrive at the Preble County fairgrounds only to be plunged immediately into the streets of Bethlehem, hearing the Roman soldiers shout orders over the noise of the crowd. We were ready to be jostled by busy traders selling their wares on streets that were crowded with travelers who had come to sign the census and pay their taxes, while dodging live sheep and goats that ran between our feet. Standing in line for two hours was never a part of that plan.

"It will be worth it when you see the baby at the end." The usher's words echoed in my ears but didn't resonate in my heart. I waved at a woman I knew in the crowd, a teacher's aid at my son's school. Her ready laughter was strangely absent, however, and her smile somewhat forced. Her thoughts must surely have been running along the lines of my own, those being that even the most spectacular church production rarely merits a 2-hour wait before it begins.

At long last we reached the closed door. Our group of 35 was welcomed into another room where the church's pastor discussed with us briefly what we were about to see, encouraging us to talk to citizens we'd meet and ask them about what was happening in their city at this time. And then a Roman guard appeared and shouted at us to hurry along as we at long last entered the streets of Bethlehem.

Truly the church people did a wonderful job. The scenery and props were authentic, the costuming convincing, and the actors carefully schooled not to wear, do, or say anything that wasn't appropriate to the time period being represented. The city streets were littered with sawdust and still crowded as we, now fellow travelers, made our way through the town, pestered on every side by tradespeople trying to sell their goods. We stroked the pet goats penned in a corner of one Jewish home, as well as the donkeys and sheep corralled near another. The whole production was well done and very realistic, and we admired greatly the dedication and stamina of these ordinary people who gave up so much of their non-existent spare time during the busy holiday season to make the whole thing possible.

But just as I thought to myself that the experience was too short to make up for the long wait ahead of time, we rounded the last curve in the city street, …and there we saw Him. In a last cubbyhole, almost as an afterthought, sat a tired mother, a watchful father… and a newborn infant, perfect in every way, sound asleep on his stomach despite the noise and confusion in the streets just beyond, his tiny thumb stuck in his mouth. The sight literally took my breath away. I didn't want to move past. How I wished I'd brought my camera, only to hear God say that capturing that picture in my heart was all I needed to do to hold on to the moment forever. Truly that usher was right. The tiring wait beforehand was well worth it to see the long-awaited babe at the end.

Surely Mary must've felt that way all those many years ago. She'd endured the humiliation of her condition, the long months of pregnancy, the difficult journey followed by a long night of laboring alone in the dark as she gave birth. Surely it was worth it all to see the Babe at the end.

And what of the Wise Men who traveled so long and so far, following a star for months that slowly turned into years? Hadn't there been times when they longed to return to their loved ones at home, to give up the long days of travel in pursuit of this wandering light in the sky? When at last it came to rest over the unlikely birthplace of a king, didn't they feel privileged to finally lay their gifts at the feet of the young child they found there?

And what of us? We, too, grow weary in the waiting… tired of the obstacles we face as we, too, work our way towards the promise of a Heavenly Light. There are days when we wonder if it's all worth it. Sadly, some turn back before reaching Heaven's Gates and entering the City they've heard about for so long. Thankfully God puts people in our path who pat us on the back and encourage us with the words, "Hang on. It will be worth it when you see Jesus..."

They're right, you know. If a baby in a manger can take my breath away, I'll gladly give my life away to see the King of Glory on His throne and lay my treasure at His feet. My personal Bethlehem experience has taught me that the wait will be worth it in the end.

"After they had heard the king, they went on their way, and the star they had seen in the east went ahead of them until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw the star, they were overjoyed. On coming to the house, they saw the child with his mother Mary, and they bowed down and worshiped him. Then they opened their treasures and presented him with gifts of gold and of incense and of myrrh."
(Matthew 2:9-11 NIV)

ARMED and Dangerous

Tension lingered between father and son over an incident that had happened between them more than twenty-four hours earlier, straining the atmosphere in our home. The weather continued to worsen, a sudden snow burst blanketing the ground with more than an inch of white powder, causing me to wonder what road conditions I would be dealing with on the way to work. Once there, the store manager warned those of us who were working that night that a known thief was in the building. He described him in detail and then advised us on how to deal with him should he come to our registers. Fervently I prayed he’d go through the other cashier’s line instead of mine, but as I spotted him heading straight for me it seemed that yet another of my prayers that day had gone astray. At one point I turned my eyes heavenward and asked God, “Are You even on the job today?” Surely it seemed to me that He had abandoned His post, as my peace slowly dissolved in the face of one turbulent situation after another.

I came to my Bible reading time that night almost desperate for answers. And God didn’t waste any time in giving me one. The first verse of Judges Chapter 3 tells us that God let a few enemy nations remain in the Promised Land after the Israelites entered it, and in verse 2 He tells us why: “…(he did this only to teach warfare to the descendants of the Israelites who had not had previous battle experience.” In short, they needed to learn how to fight.

Apparently so did I. Bad moods, bad weather, even bad people should not be too much for a child of God to deal with. A scripture verse suddenly came to mind: “These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace. In the world ye shall have tribulation; but be off good cheer; I have overcome the world” (John 16:33 KJV). Apparently peace was available to me, even in bad situations. And the key to finding it lay in answers I’d already been given.

Given is they key word in that sentence. My husband said in a class he taught recently that when soldiers join the army they’re not expected to bring their own guns when they enlist. Everything they need, from the food they eat to the clothes they wear to the guns they carry is provided for them. How much more then does God provide for those who enlist in His army! Everything we need, even to the weapons with which we fight the enemy, is furnished for us. How silly it would be then to leave them behind when heading off to battle. Yet too often we march off into our day without bringing our spiritual battle gear along. The Bible says that “…the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strongholds;)” (2 Corinthians 10:4). Mentally I began making a list of the weapons that are available to me.

The first that came to mind is perhaps the most important - “…the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God” (Ephesians 6:17 NIV, emphasis mine). It was Jesus’ weapon of choice when facing temptation in the wilderness. Over and over He said, “It is written…” before quoting a pertinent scripture, simply proclaiming God’s Word over every situation that attempted to overcome Him. He was victorious, and we can be, too. But to use scripture in battle we first have to know it. The hours we put in to studying God’s word sharpen the blade we swing at the devil. It’s simply time well spent.

One by one other weapons came to mind, so that soon I found myself making a list. I wrote the word prayer, remembering the biblical command to “pray without ceasing” (1 Thessalonians 5:17). Thanksgiving soon followed prayer, just as it does in Philippians 4:17 where Paul tells us how to find peace to guard our hearts and minds . Speaking of minds, one of our greatest weapons is the ability to control our thought life. We’re told to “…take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ” (2 Corinthians 10:5 NIV). We refuse to take in the thoughts that don’t line up with God’s Word and instead focus our attention on things that are true…noble…right…pure…lovely…admirable…excellent or praiseworthy (Philippians 4:8 NIV). We’re reminded to gather with other believers, for a number of reasons. For one, there’s strength in numbers…mostly because where two or three are gathered in His Name, God is in their midst (Matthew 18:20)! But our faith is strengthened and our hearts are encouraged by spending time with others whose very testimonies of how God came through for them times past are also a weapon of choice (Revelation 12:11). And praise and worship literally break chains of bondage (Acts 16:25) and move the hand of God on our behalf.

As the list grew, so did my faith. I was suddenly aware of the many ways I can do spiritual battle on my own. Clearly there are times when God wants me to simply stand firm and let Him fight my battles for me. But at other times He’d have me remember that He’s “armed me well for this fight” (2 Samuel 22:33-50 MSG). Instead of wringing my hands when difficulties come my way I’d be better off to pick up my weapons and start swinging.

“Praise be to the Lord, my Rock, who trains my hands for war, my fingers for battle.”
(Psalm 144:1 NIV)

Broken Boards

The back door opened and Nina bounded outside, thrilled to be released into the brilliant sunshine and fresh air of another gorgeous California morning. An active German Shepherd pup, as she trotted the perimeter of the enclosed back yard, she could smell the Labrador Retriever in the yard next door, and stopped at one particular spot of the fence where the wood was rotten and breaking apart somewhat, giving her the best access to the tantalizing odors coming from the other side. She pressed her black snout hard against the barrier and breathed deep, then snorted a time or two before pressing even closer and inhaling deeply again. And suddenly, she felt the weakened wood give a little. Instinctively she moved in again, pushing a little more eagerly, the presence of the dog on the other side a magnetic force that pulled her growing frame hard against the boards between them.

Suddenly the wood gave way. With her head already through the hole, Nina was quickly able to push and wiggle the rest of her body to follow. Unfortunately what she met on the other side was not the dog she’d been dreaming of, but his owner, instead, who just happened to be coming down her back steps in time to see the intruder coming through. Quickly she hustled Nina back through the hole and blocked it somewhat before hollering to her neighbors that the barrier had been breached and they needed to bring the dog inside.

My sister owns the German Shepherd as well as a terrier of sorts named Sam, and shared the story of Nina’s Great Escape in an email in which she detailed the difficulties the broken fence now presented in their lives. The easy solution was to nail a board over the damaged section, but it was obvious that a larger scale repair job would have to be done over the weekend, weather permitting. There would be a span of several days in which the fence would be torn apart, so my sister’s family began rescheduling their days to accommodate the need to walk the dogs and take them elsewhere to run and get the exercise they require.

And so it is that many of us have fences to mend in the relationships surrounding us. The best of long-standing friendships can have a weak spot that has developed over time. When one person repeatedly pushes on that sensitive area, the other has a tendency to push back, and the result is an eventual break in the unity between them. At that point sometimes all manner of unexpected emotions come pouring through the gap, widening the break and forcing an eventual separation of two lives that once walked side-by-side in harmony.

The question then arises of what to do about it. One choice surely is to simply do nothing, to let the chips fall where they may, so they say, and leave things as they currently are. But as my sister found out, this requires a surprising amount of work in itself. Lives have to be rescheduled and habits changed to avoid confrontation with the other person, demanding time and attention that would otherwise be devoted to worthier purposes.

Too often we likewise try quick fixes in our relationships, perhaps apologizing for sharp words and offensive actions without exploring the deeper feelings which prompted the anger in the first place. Eventually the underlying issues have to be addressed or they will continue to fester unseen and erupt again somewhere further on down the road.

There are other factors to consider, as well. Mending fences can be an expensive operation. My sister weighed the price of wood and labor against the preciousness of what could be lost and found that she really had no choice - she couldn’t take the chance of her dogs getting out and being injured in some way, possibly never coming home. Similarly it may cost us something to lay down our pride and devote the time and effort necessary to make things right in our relationships. Perhaps the decision is easier when we consider the depth of friendship and the years of memories that could be tarnished or lost forever if we don’t.

The fence is finished now, the repairs complete, and the dogs are running happily in their respective yards once more. In the end it only seemed right that my sister and her neighbor split the cost of the repairs. What’s true with broken fence boards is likewise true in ruptured relationships - both sides share the blame for the break but reap the benefits of a restored one, especially when they work together to make things right.

“I urge Euodia and Syntyche to iron out their differences and make up. God doesn’t want his children holding grudges.”
(Philippians 4:2 MSG)

A Penny in His Pocket

Getting dressed for work involves more than just pulling on some clothes anymore. More important than the store uniform itself is what goes into the pants pockets. Bound by habit as well as function, I slip a cough drop, a wrapped piece of candy or two and any notes to myself (like my seemingly daily grocery list) in the left side; on the right I keep a handful of change. It’s those coins that I find I can’t do without, as they cover lack of all kinds that I encounter in an 8-hour workday. Sometimes they quiet the rumbling in a belly that needs a quick bag of chips. At other times they might buy a bagger buddy a can of pop. And then there are times that they save a customer from having to run to the parking lot and dig around the floorboard of his car for a few more cents to cover his bill. I supplement my stash daily with the change from my own transactions and the contents of the zippered coin compartment of my wallet when necessary to ensure that when I walk through the workplace doors each day, I’m fully supplied.

It’s no wonder then that preacher Randy Clark got my attention in a recent message when he asked God to make him a coin in His pocket, available for Him to spend. God likewise has work that He’s about on the earth, and His people are the tools in His shed, the weapons in His arsenal…the coins in His pocket that He uses to get it done.

When I reach into my pocket to fill a need of some kind, I pull out a mixture of coins in my hand. Pennies, nickels, dimes and quarters all come out together, and I select what’s necessary from what I find in my fingers. God simply does the same. Each of us carries a certain spiritual denomination, one that doesn’t refer to our value in God’s sight, but rather the size and kind of job we can handle, based on the giftings and talents we possess. God picks and chooses from what He has available to accomplish His goals.

The Bible says that we all are given a measure of faith, which is our starting point in our spiritual walk. It’s what we do with that faith that matters. The Parable of the Talents found in Matthew 25 tells the story of a man who entrusted his wealth to his three servants while he went away on a journey. One servant was given five portions, or talents, and used them to earn five more. The second servant put the two talents he was given to work and raised another two. But the third simply buried the one talent he was responsible for in the sand and earned nothing but his master’s scorn. His one talent was taken away and reinvested in the one who achieved the most with what he had been given.

We may start off with just a penny’s worth of faith, but we don’t have to stay that way. God reminds us that even those with faith the size of a mustard seed can move mountains in the spiritual realm. He desires that we put what faith we have into action, and watch it grow from there.

The old saying, “See a penny, pick it up, and all the day you’ll have good luck” doesn’t mean much to a lot of people any more. These days most folks walk right by a copper-colored coin they see lying on the floor, figuring it isn’t worth the effort to bend and pick it up. Thankfully God doesn’t see penny-people that way. Rather He seems to take special interest in those who are beaten down by life and abandoned on the sidelines, looking past their current circumstances to the potential hidden within, aware of what could be released if only some effort was put into restoring and polishing them. He sees their purchasing power in the spiritual realm.

Maybe the difference is that when we pick up a penny, it’s still a penny. But when God picks up a life, He makes it brand new, and the possibilities before it suddenly become endless. He already has a plan for that person (Jeremiah 29:11), and soon that “coin” is burning a hole in God’s pocket, as the saying goes, so eager is He to put it to work on His purposes.

Oh, that we would truly see ourselves as God does, line up our thinking with His, and strive to become all that He knows we can be. That’s when the abundant life we‘re promised becomes a reality, and we find ourselves shouting a slightly altered version of Isaiah’s famous prayer, “Here am I, Lord! Spend me!”

“And I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then I said, Here am I; send me!”
(Isaiah 6:8 MKJV)

The Fourth is Free

When first-of-the-month shoppers combine with Super Bowl devotees in full party preparation mode, the end result is a grocery store madhouse of people filling their shopping carts to later fill their bellies with the wares to be found on the grocery store shelves. Lines are long at each register and tempers are short.

Wanting to cash in on this early February spending frenzy, the store details incredible savings on certain products in the weekly ad to draw the buyers in. One such deal occurred in the pop aisle, where all brands and flavors were on sale.

Buy three, get one free. It seemed simple enough. But you’d be surprised at the amount of confusion that one short sentence can create.

The signs in the soda section weren’t much help. One advertised that 12-packs of pop were selling 3 for $11, or $3.67 each. Yet another read that if you bought four such 12-packs, the fourth was free. So were they 3 for $11, or 4 for $11? Both! No wonder the shoppers were confused!

In the midst of the shopping madness, grocery store cashiers tend to rush each customer through their order as quickly as possible to get to the next person waiting impatiently behind them. Yet after a week of scanning cans of pop, it’s hard not to notice when a shopper puts just three 12-packs on the belt instead of four, thus missing out on the freebie. The question is what to do about it. There is a temptation to say nothing at all, to just scan the groceries as they come down the line and push the person on through, justifying the action with the thought that the customer knows best what he wants to buy. Yet it takes just a minute to explain the deal to them and offer to scan an extra pack of pop so they can go back and get what’s coming to them. Some people are simply in a hurry to get out of the store and don’t care about the extra savings. But in this time of tight budgets, most people are genuinely grateful that the matter was brought to their attention.

Life can be difficult to understand, as well. We go about our days looking for signs to guide us and send us in the direction of the best deal to be found in all areas of our lives. Conflicting information bombards us, and too often what seems to be good information one week is like the prices on an out-of-date sale ad, simply invalid the next. Truth appears to be as elusive as the good health, emotional stability and financial success we all seek. Sometimes even our spiritual guides are not the help they should be in navigating us through this life to our forever Home.

Our Christian walk can become much like an over-busy weekend in the grocery store. Like everybody else we have too much to do in too little time, and we tend to rush through our days trying to get it all done. Yet in our interactions with people it’s hard not to notice when they haven’t fully grasped the concept of grace, that their salvation has already been paid for by Christ’s death on the cross. Many are still trying to pay for that which has been offered to them for free. It’s theirs for the asking, as well as the favor found in a Christ-filled life on this earth in terms of health, help, and hope for the future.

The question is what to do about it. As a grocery store cashier and a Christian, I live in both these scenarios. And to my shame I have to admit that I’m much more likely to point out a missing sale item than an overlooked salvation, verbally, at least. There are reasons, of course - one too many rebuffs from people who are so consumed with the here and now that they can’t consider the hereafter. It’s easy to say that salvation is a personal matter and everyone has to figure it out for themselves. Yet I can’t get past the fact that somebody risked my rejection in telling me. My soul was saved and my life dramatically changed. How can I possibly do less for somebody else?

The sale prices in our store ads are good for just a week. Salvation is likewise a limited time offer; it ends when a life does or the world does, whichever comes first. If we’re too busy, too timid or too lazy to tell somebody about it, for them it could be too late. Eternity is simply too long to think of missed opportunities.

A free pack of pop is good only as long as there are cans left in the carton, but eternal life is just that - good times without end. Consider which is the better deal, and then let your heart of compassion convince you to get the word out. God will be glad you did.

“All who call out to the Lord will be saved. How can people have faith in the Lord and ask him to save them, if they have never heard about him? And how can they hear, unless someone tells them?”
(Romans 10:13-14 CEV)

Conversations from the Heart

“Let’s see, on Monday we can eat the lasagna…,” the woman began, trying to engage her distracted husband in menu planning for the coming week as they unloaded the groceries from their cart onto the belt in my checkout lane. He was more interested in getting something to eat now, as he stopped her twice to ask if she wanted first a pop from the cooler at the end of the aisle and then a candy bar from the racks beside them. After the second interruption she responded resignedly, “That’s okay. I’ll talk to you about this later…”, and she and I shared a laugh about his clear lack of focus on the topic at hand.

We all know from experience how frustrating it can be to try to talk to someone whose mind is absorbed by something else, be it a game on the television screen, an article in a newspaper spread out before them, or a pressing problem on the job. To be 50% involved in a conversation is to be 100% rude, and yet we’ve all been on the wrong side of that equation before, myself included. It’s bad enough when we act that way with a spouse or a friend, but all too often we’re likewise distracted in our conversations with God.

I’ve noticed it myself recently in my morning devotional times. Rarely does God come to the table without a topic at hand that He’s ready to discuss. And while I may listen attentively at first, soon I’m thinking about what happened yesterday at work, what I want to write on the open journal page before me, or the list of things I want to accomplish that morning before heading out the door. In short, while I’m physically present, my mind and heart are clearly not connected to the conversation that God desires to have with me.

At times when I’m the one trying to communicate a thought with my distracted spouse, I know that he hears me talking, but I‘m painfully aware that he‘s not listening. So I’ve eventually stopped speaking, just to see how long it will be before he notices. I’ve noticed that sometimes God does the same. It’s a move that never fails to get my attention, for sure. While my verbal inactivity might be a welcome respite to my husband’s overworked ears, I need to hear God’s thoughts on everything that pertains to me, and His silence is simply more than I can bear.

These thoughts come to me just weeks before Valentine’s Day, when the promotional display at the front of the grocery store is laden with little boxes of Sweethearts candy, those little bits of heart-shaped sugar, each of which has a sweet sentiment printed on top in one or two words. A nearby sign proclaims them to be the official candy of love. All I know is that they are incredibly addicting, and that having sampled one or two, I return for handfuls of the same until the little box lies empty and crumpled in a nearby trash receptacle. I simply can’t resist them.

Neither can I resist the love of God, who uses the exact same method to bring my attention back to Him. He speaks His love to me a word at a time, knowing that those few syllables will never satisfy me and I’ll return to Him again and again to hear more of what He has to say on the subject at hand until I’ve finally understood the message in its entirety. It’s when I listen with my heart, not just my ears, that the conversation can have life-changing results.

That’s why this subject is important to God. It’s not just our lives that He’s trying to change. If we’re not hearing from Him, we likewise have nothing of real value to pass on to those around us who listen to us on a regular basis. Composer Nico Muhly once said about his work, “The first thing I ask myself with every piece: Is it preferable to silence?” And perhaps that’s a question we should ask ourselves before we open our mouths, our laptops, or the message app on our phones to “speak“, as well.

Much as the shopper in my line at the store was trying to discuss what they were to eat each day, God likewise has a daily meal plan to nourish us spiritually, conversations from His heart to ours that come to us through our ears rather than our mouths. Maybe it’s time we truly listened to what He has to say.

“He who has ears to hear, let him hear.” (Matthew 11:15 MKJV)