Wound and Bound by Worry

 

I looked out the window to see two downy woodpeckers fussing with each other at the suet feeder.

 “That’s odd,” I thought to myself. Usually a bird at any of the feeders gives way to an incoming version with its wings spread intimidatingly and speed on its side. But this one refused to give ground. It stayed and retaliated with pecking motions of its own directed at the hungry visitor. Their back and forth squabbling continued as I turned away to get on with my day.

I thought it strange later in the day to see the same type of woodpecker again standing ground over the suet cage. It fluttered about the feeder but never flew away. Could it possibly be the same bird? And why was it being so territorial?

As darkness settled over the backyard I again saw the bird clinging to the rope just below the feeder… unnatural behavior for this time of day. I began to wonder if it didn’t leave because it couldn’t leave… but I went on with my evening plans.

The night was cold, with temperatures at freezing or below. So when the sun rose and I looked out on the deck, only to see the bird still clinging to the rope, I knew something was wrong. My son came upstairs looking for coffee just then, and I pointed to the woodpecker. “It’s been there since yesterday afternoon.”

He stepped out to check things out, his height negating the need for the stepladder I would’ve had to pull out to reach the high-hanging feeder. The bird flapped its wings at his approach, fluttering in tight circles around the rope but never flying away. Gently Kevin cupped his hands around the flapping wings to still the frantic escape attempts and discovered the reason they weren’t successful: a strand from the rope had knotted itself around one of the woodpecker’s legs, keeping it on a short lease. Releasing the bird momentarily to retrieve a pair of scissors, he was quickly back with them in hand. Gently collaring the bird with one hand he deftly snipped the string holding the bird bound with the other, then released it and watched as it quickly flew away to safety and freedom.

How like that bird am I when I allow my worries over a situation to hold me captive! My thoughts persistently flutter around and around the problem in increasing desperation, but my mind won’t let me leave it alone – I’m seemingly tied tightly to the problem at hand and cant escape on my own.

Thankfully there is One Who comes to my rescue and does for me what I cannot not do on my own. With His death on the cross Jesus overcame the power binding me and set me free from that which grabs my attention and holds me fast.

He cut the string… He tore the veil… He conquered the forces trying to conquer me, and when I simply remember that fact, I am suddenly released to soar freely in the heavens with Him again.

 

“Surely He will save you from the fowler’s snare…” (Psalm 91:3 NIV)

Esmee's Eyes

Her eyes are always on me.  

Seriously… her eyes are ALWAYS on me!

Esmee is my little white dog, a four-year-old bichon frise puppy mill rescue I came home with one Saturday morning shortly after my aged golden retriever had died. As I picked her out of her crate and held her at the adoption event, trying to determine if we would be a good fit, she just huddled in my arms, unresponsive… perhaps wondering what life held for her next. She was just so scared, the foster mom asserted, promising me that in no time she would be my new best friend.

I had my doubts. Because she was a purebred, the adoption fee was high. And she was a little rough looking, any grooming having been postponed until after the more immediate need of having her spayed. Her white fur was shaggy and dirty, and there were dark tear stains underneath her eyes. But my cat and I needed a new friend to fill the hole in our hearts and our home, and since Esmee needed the latter, I decided to give her a go.

I couldn’t be more glad. Now two months since that morning, my little white buddy has blossomed. She greets me every morning standing on her hind feet in her crate, then bouncing around my legs before we head outside and she races to find a spot to do her business. For the rest of the day until she returns to her crate at night, she is by my side or watching me from the couch, the rug at my feet, or any spot in which she settles that gives her a clear view of me. She still has moments of panic when something startles her or a new situation comes into her world, but they are occurring less and less as she learns that I am her place of safety. And so every waking moment of her day, she is looking my way .She never lets me out of her sight.

What a lesson there is in that for me! I, too, am a “rescue”, you see… a life that was likewise a bit of a mess with no clear direction… until the morning my boyfriend introduced me to a Man Who was willing to pay the price of His life for mine… to take me as His own, love me, care for me, and eventually take me Home. I gradually came to trust that all my needs would be met in Him, as long as I kept Him cotinually in my sight.

And so now I strive to have “Esmee Eyes”… constantly following His movements in my life, dogging His footsteps, and rejoicing in every moment we spend together.

“You can change her name if you like – she doesn’t recognize it,” said the lady from the adoption agency. But when I found out that it means “esteemed” or “beloved”, I knew I wouldn’t. Daily she is coming to recognize that she is exactly that… and teaching me new ways to see that I am, too.

“Let us keep our eyes fixed on Jesus, on whom our faith depends from beginning to end…”

(Hebrews 12:1-2 GNT)

 

Sudden Snow

“It’s snowing?” I said in disbelief as the store’s double doors opened wide and I caught a quick glimpse of the outside world.

The possibility of frozen precipitation hadn’t been mentioned in the last forecast I had heard. Apparently a lot of other people had missed it, as well, from the surprised comments I heard as shoppers brushed flakes off their clothing as they came in and stomped their feet on the mats in the doorway. But surprise soon turned to consternation as the snowflakes quickly covered the roads, then melded together in the frigid temperatures and high winds to become a solid sheet of ice.

The resultant driving difficulties were soon reported by people who were caught out in the bad weather and came slipping and sliding on into the store; cars off the road, traffic tie-ups, coworkers calling in to say they’d be late because they were stuck on the very road I needed to take to get home. The dispatch radio on the shoulder of the policeman on security duty that night cackled incessantly as he tried to give advice to customers about to head out the door.

“Which way do you have to go?” he’d ask, and then warn them that hills were especially slick and people were having trouble getting up them, forcing them to turn around when their spinning wheels could get no traction.

The store soon emptied out as people eventually stopped venturing out under the bad weather conditions. Soon we had more workers than people to wait on. Told I could leave early, I was suddenly not so sure I wanted to go. The constant stream of driving horror stories by those coming into the building had made me doubt that I wanted to head out. Since I had a grocery list of my own in my pocket, I decided to delay my departure with that and give the salt trucks a little while to work on the roads.

As I pushed my shopping cart down the now deserted aisles I remembered that my husband would likely be driving home as well from his weekly Bible study home meeting. Knowing he shouldn’t even look at his phone while driving, I yet shot him a text message asking him if he was okay and what the roads were like, secretly hoping he’d call me back and say, “Stay where you are - I’m coming to get you.”

That didn’t happen. He did call, but he said the roads weren’t so bad, and definitely navigable. “You can do this,” he said. “Just take it slow.”

Surprisingly, that was just what I needed to hear, and his words changed my perspective completely. If this man who knew me and my driving abilities (or lack thereof) thought the situation was within my capabilities, then clearly it was. When another frequent shopper stopped me in passing to feed my fear and warn me with his own story I cut him off short, saying, “My husband says I can do this. I’ll be fine.” and marched quickly away from his tale of woe.

It’s not just winter that makes travel difficult; life sometimes does the same. So many of us find ourselves at the base of hills we can’t seem to climb. Unable to catch a grip on the slippery slopes before us, we often find ourselves sliding backwards despite our best efforts to get ahead. Many are in danger of giving up and turning around. Yet God tells us in His Word that what is impossible in our own strength is possible in His; His power inside of us is what propels us over the mountains that stand in our way.

The trouble is that we sometimes forget the extent of His power and authority that are available to us to deal with any situations we face. We listen to voices of doubt and disbelief from fellow travelers, and when in our fear we call Home and ask to be rescued, the One who created us and thus knows us better than anyone else answers us with the gentle reminder that we can do all things through Christ Who gives us strength. We know that of course; sometimes we just need the reassurance and the comfort in the sound of His voice. Then we can respond to any naysayer attempting to discourage us by voicing with confidence, “My Bridegroom says I can do this. I’ll be fine.”

I did get home safely that night. I found as I set out that the salt trucks had indeed prepared the way before me, as God promises He will do for us in all our earthly travels. There was one strip of clearing pavement down the middle of the road, and as long as I kept a wheel in that and didn’t venture too far to the left or to the right, I was fine. Yet as I pulled into the driveway it was such a relief and delight to see the lights of home before me. The tension finally lifted off my shoulders as I pulled into the garage and then entered that place of safety, warmth, and joy to find the one who loves me waiting there to welcome me home.

Rest in the knowledge that one day soon you will simply do the same.

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also I me. In my Father’s house are many rooms…I am going there to prepare a place for you…that you also may be where I am.”
(John 14: 1-3 NIV)

Impact's Importance

Thump.

I was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee and finishing up my devotional time when the latter was interrupted by a sudden noise out on the back deck. Thinking that it had to be something more than just the black walnut shells the squirrels have been dropping out of the tree like crazy of late, I looked out the glass door and was shocked to see a baby squirrel lying motionless on the wooden planks…again! The shock of the moment was doubled by the realization that the same thing happened almost to the day last year, as a subsequent journal entry later proved!

Last year when the disaster occurred, the baby almost immediately started moving around and hollering for help. Home alone at the time, I was eventually able to push it into a hole high up in the tree (see Extra Effort Required, September 21, 2010). This time, however, the infant appeared to be toast. Although still breathing, it lay motionless for so long that I figured it must be mortally wounded in some way. I decided to give it some time, and finished what I was doing. But nothing changed in the squirrel’s condition. Other adult squirrels actually ran past it without paying it the least attention as they made their way to dig in the planters on the deck railing or feast on the bird seed in the feeders. Deciding it was past rescue, I resolved to move it to the woods on the other side of the fence where nature could take its course without my dogs getting to it and ripping it to shreds. But when I emerged from the garage, broom and shovel in hand, I was amazed to see that the baby had suddenly rolled over onto its feet and was moving around drunkenly, all the while crying piteously! Apparently rescue was still an option on the table. This time I was not home alone, and while I waited for my husband to be available to help, sat back down to see what would happen next.

Looking out the window and up in the tree, I finally saw Squirrel Mama looking anxiously down at her baby. In doing some research after the fact last year I learned that a mother squirrel will eventually come and get her displaced young if given a chance. So I moved out of sight and began to pray fervently that the feat would be accomplished.

Sure enough, the mother squirrel s-l-o-w-l-y came down the tree, and then ever so cautiously made her way to the infant, which she then began rolling around and around, as if looking for a place on which to get a grip with her mouth. The youngster became more agitated with its mother nearby so the process took a bit of time. Finally she got a good hold on him, and then with amazing ease, bounded on to and up the tree! I held my breath for a minute, half expecting them both to come crashing back down, then raced to another window that afforded a better view. Both squirrels were long gone. I rejoiced at the “happily ever after” ending to a story that I had thought was (literally!) dead and done long before.

Amazingly, I’d been thinking about a name on my prayer list when the whole squirrel episode dropped from the tree and physically illustrated what God had been speaking to me moments before. I had come home from a church conference a year and a half ago with what is known as an Impact List, a wallet sized card on which to record the names of people to impact in some way spiritually, to somehow love into the Kingdom of God through prayer, fellowship or ministry of one type or another. High on my list was an individual who was likewise desperately in need of rescue, physically as well as spiritually. Out of a job for close to two years, he was now rapidly running out of options and hope. I’d been praying for him month after month with little visible results. Frankly, I was growing a little discouraged myself in the process, my hope for him beginning to look a lot like the motionless squirrel spread-eagled on the wooden planks of my back deck.

But God wouldn’t let me give up. I am amazed at the number of ways He spoke that message to me. I laughed when I looked on my fridge and found posted there the Italian phrase-of-the-week I had picked at random (or so I thought) out of a year’s worth of the same: Non arrenderti mai, which means “Never give up.”! I opened the newspaper only to see a story about a high school football player who was too short to be taken seriously by the college scouts, despite his great work ethic and many physical skills. On his upper arm was tattooed his motto: Never give up. And I was shocked when at work one day a coworker ended a random conversation with me with the comment, “Never give up, Elaine! Never give up!” Surely he must’ve wondered at the look I gave him, so startled was I to hear God’s words coming out of his mouth! And so I continued to pray.

And then suddenly one night there came a phone call from that very prayer project, who told me that he had been offered a good job and was heading back to work immediately! Even as we rejoiced together, I knew that the rescue was yet incomplete, however, I was thrilled to know it was underway! While salvation remained the ultimate goal, his immediate need was to be picked up from the floor of despair into which he’d fallen and had been lying unresponsive for so long. Just as the mother squirrel spun her baby around in her paws, looking for a place to get a grip, perhaps God does the same, allowing our life situations to roll us around awhile until just the right spot in our hearts is exposed, contact is made, and He can carry us Home.

It was the impact of the squirrel hitting the deck that got my attention that morning when I was busy doing something else. And perhaps that explains the same name of my prayer list, that the persistent petitioning on behalf of the people on it gets God’s attention, and moves His heart to respond.

I recall that several other squirrels ran past the baby during its moments of distress without paying it the least bit of attention. The rodent rescue was clearly the responsibility of the one that had the connection to it. And similarly there may be people in our circle of relationships whose names are not found on anybody else’s prayer list, making our dedication to the same of eternal importance.

Finally, it was amazing to me that the situation occurred in the same manner, two years running. Obviously I didn’t get the whole message the first time around. Last year when a squirrel fell from the sky in front of me the point was made that extra effort would be required to get those people whom life has dropped by the wayside back to where they need to be. This year I learned that the main focus of that effort has to be prayer.

When I came home from that church conference two years ago with my prayer list in my pocket, it became almost a point of honor among those of us who attended the event to be able to whip out our cards on a moment’s notice if asked. Yet no impact is made if all we do is write a bunch of names down on a slip of paper and then carry it around. Rescue happens when we drop to our knees with those names on our lips and truly begin to pray.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” (Galatians 6:9 NIV)

Looking for God in All the Wrong Places

“Are you my savior?” she asked with hope in her eyes and a smile on her face. Desperate to use the restroom facilities, my friend and coworker had been pestering the floor supervisor for some time to send someone to replace her for five minutes or so. I was the long-awaited answer to her pleas. She shoved the remote control for the grocery store self-check machines at me and rushed off, leaving her question hanging in the air behind her.

Are you my savior? In these days of difficulty it seems to be the universal cry of a people looking for a way out of the problems we face. We long to feel comfortable again, to be rescued from our own circumstances and the life issues surrounding us. Almost desperately we flock to the latest rising star, hoping that maybe he or she will provide the answers we need. We look from Dr. Phil to Oprah to President Obama to right our relationships, declutter our homes, fix the economy, bring home the troops, remove the terror threat and give us affordable healthcare. In our search for answers we’re asking the right question; we’re just putting it to the wrong people.

The question is remarkably similar to the title of a children’s book by P. D. Eastman I used to read to my boys long ago entitled Are You My Mother? With a smile at the memory I delighted again in the simple story of a baby bird that hatches to find itself alone, leaves its nest, and poses its question to one unlikely candidate after another, hoping to find its source of comfort and happiness. Perhaps the only relevance my trip down memory lane has to our current need of rescue it that the answer to our dilemma is likewise found in a book… not one of the millions of self-help books that line our shelves, but in God’s Book, the Bible. Our powerlessness to save ourselves is obvious. An imperfect people, we need a perfect sacrifice to pay for our sin. We need a Savior.

God’s people in Bible times likewise found themselves in need of a Savior, One that’s promised in the early pages of the Book and then delivered. Much of the middle is about people like us who came across Jesus and asked, as did John the Baptist, “Are you the one who was to come, or should we expect someone else?” (Matthew 11:2 NIV). Are you my Savior? The answer is found in the pages that follow.

Surprisingly, the most important word in that question is the smallest. It doesn’t matter if Jesus is my pastor’s Savior, my husband’s Savior, or my best friend’s Savior. He’s not my Savior until I recognize my need, ask that question for myself and find Him speaking His response to me in some way, for He will answer.

My son showed up to take a midterm in one of his college classes recently without his textbook, unaware that a portion of the exam was an open-book test. Thankfully his professor saw that he was in need, called him out by name and offered him a copy of the volume. Your Teacher has done the same for you. Eventually there will be a moment when time will be called, all books will close and the decision-making opportunity will come to an end.

May the trumpet not sound before you have found the Savior you seek.

“…The King of Israel, even the Lord [Himself], is in the midst of you; [and after He has come to you] you shall not experience or fear evil any more…The Lord your God is in the midst of you, a Might One, a Savior [Who saves]!…”
(Zephaniah 3:15, 17 AMP)“