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)

Sunday Selah

The dog already straining eagerly on the leash, I held him back long enough for me to pull the front door closed behind me and make it safely down the front steps before giving him the go ahead to run to the top of the driveway to fetch the morning newspaper, dragging me along behind. But when my feet hit the grass I stopped a minute longer, held spellbound by the splendor in the sky. The rising sun had painted the thin cloud cover a glorious shade of pink, breathtaking in its beauty. Suddenly I was as eager as the dog to get to the road for a less obstructed view and raced alongside him, not wanting to miss a moment of the surprisingly beautiful sunrise. Once there I simply stood and stared, soaking in the sight for so long that even the dog got bored, having sniffed every rock and blade of grass within a leash-length of where I stood; so long that the heavy Sunday paper finally broke through the thin plastic sleeve encasing it and spilled all over the gravel at my feet. The spell likewise broken, I bent to pick up the scattered sections and headed back to the house, a satisfied smile on my face and incredible peace in my heart. There’s simply no better way to start a day.

There’s a word for a moment like that. I find it sprinkled all through the book of Psalms in my Bible. Every couple of verses or so it’s there in italics, perhaps to give it emphasis. Selah. Somewhere I read that it means, “Pause. Think about Me.” I printed the word and it’s definition inside the front cover of my journal the last couple of years to remind me what my morning devotional time is all about. It’s those moments (illustrated by my first actions with the dog this morning) in which I pull the door closed on the events of the day before and prepare to step safely into the new dawn - I hold the hounds at bay for a moment and look up to God for love, comfort, companionship, guidance, direction, or any combination thereof. Delighted with the glimpse I get there, I run in His direction for a better view, a fuller understanding of what He might have to show me, soaking in His glory while time stops still until my heart is so filled with peace that nothing I might face that day can possibly take it away. Now I simply won’t start my day any other way.

Of course, not every sunrise is as spectacular as the one I saw today. Some days there are no puffs of vapor in the sky to be lit up with the approaching rays. The sun simply comes up over the horizon, (we are grateful!) and we go on with our day. On other mornings the clouds hang so thick and low that we never catch a glimpse of the golden orb rising or setting, and we just go on in the knowledge that it’s up there somewhere whether we can see it or not, doing its job out of our view. And likewise not always are my morning devotional times filled with mind-blowing revelation or an overwhelming sense of the nearness of God. Many are the days I drink my coffee, read my Bible and speak to Him the words that have gathered in my heart without hearing a response write-worthy of the open journal pages before me. But even on those occasions when my troubles hang so darkly around me that God is hard to see, I am comforted by my conviction that He’s still actively working on my behalf to bless and prosper me in all areas of my life and in every moment of my day. The important thing is that I’ve stopped the ever-ticking time clock long enough to look in His direction.

Selah. Pause, and think about Me.

What’s important on a daily basis is perhaps equally so on a weekly one. We are instructed in the Bible to set apart one day as holy unto God, a day to cease from our regular activities and worship Him. And yet sometimes we find that difficult to do. Our lives are so pressure-packed that taking the time to gather with other believers in unity of purpose seems impossible. We mistakenly think we need those hours to accomplish all that needs to be done, and as we give in to that deception, we lose so much more than we gain in that time we should have set aside; we lose the peace of God’s presence and the power that is found in an ongoing relationship with Him. We simply need our Sunday Selahs to refocus our minds and thoughts, to reset our priorities and to connect with the like-minded individuals God has deliberately placed around us to encourage and inspire us.

But there’s another reason the Sunday Selah is important to God. When I had made it back to the house this morning, set the dog free of the leash and dumped the disheveled paper on the kitchen table, the first thing I did was grab my phone and wonder who else might be awake, so anxious was I to share the experience with somebody. While browsing on facebook a little while later I saw that a coworker had likewise seen the sunrise on her way in for an early shift and had posted a picture and a word about how the sight made going in to a difficult work situation a little more bearable. I smiled as I read the cyber stream of conversation that was quickly developing about the event.

I’ve seen the same thing happen when people make time for God on a Sunday morning and are impacted dramatically by a word in the pastor’s message, a song in the worship service or a simple thought expressed in a video or drama presentation. Sometimes just sitting in the presence of God affects them so deeply that we read all about it in facebook posts later in the day and hear it in conversations around us all the following week. The resultant chatter must surely make God smile, as word gets out that He has a whole lot to offer, both in this life and the next, if we’ll simply stop our running long enough to take a look.

Selah. Pause, and think about Me. And then go tell somebody about what you see.

“…And let us rejoice and exult in our hope of experiencing and enjoying the glory of God.” (Romans 5:2 AMP)

"Nice" Thoughts

I carefully wrapped the ornament in Christmas paper and slipped it into the gift bag I was filling with surprises for my sister. This particular decoration was actually just the word “nice” spelled out in heavy silver metal letters. I smiled at the thought that even without checking it twice I knew on which side of Santa’s list her name could be found!

And there it would be in good company, surrounded by a lot of other people who bless my life on a regular basis. There’s my teenage bagger friend who hails my arrival at work each day and hugs me when I leave. What about the girl working the drive-thru window at McDonald’s, who told me as she handed me my sausage biscuit and peppermint mocha that she looks for me each Sunday morning? Face after face popped in my mind that morning as I sat wrapping Christmas presents, my smile growing broader and my heart growing larger by the thought of all the gifts I’m given each day by people, many of whom don’t know my name yet love on me just the same. If I couldn’t do much else, I could at least let them know that their lives make a positive difference in mine, and I am grateful. I vowed in that moment to go back to the store where I found it, buy up every such ornament they had, and then start handing them out left and right, as fast as I could, in response.

Unfortunately, I waited too long. December is synonymous with busyness, and it was a week or two before I could get back to that particular place of business. When I did finally walk through the door, it was to find that they had sold out of that particular item. They still had other word ornaments for sale, but somehow “chuckle”, “frosty” and “hoho” just didn’t say what I wanted to convey.

The opportunity to bless those people that way was lost, but a lesson remained. Much like Christmas, we, too, are only here for a season and likewise have a limited time in which to express to others what we feel in our hearts. Many times they are words of blessing, but occasionally it’s a word of correction or direction that they need to hear. It’s important then that we choose our words carefully and see that the opportunity to speak them isn’t lost in the shuffle or sold out to the busyness of life.

My idea of gifting people with a word ornament was not an original idea. So many Christmases ago, God gave us not just any word, but the Word…the only One that could truly make a difference in our lives…one Who was born to be hung on a tree for our sins, that through His actions we might all get safely Home. And now He looks to us to give that Word away to all who will receive it.

Our time here will pass but our words will last. Say what you need to say. Do it today.

“But I would strengthen and encourage you with [the words of] my mouth, and the consolation of my lips would soothe your suffering.”
(Job 16:5 AMP)

Glow Gone

The little lapel pin lay nestled in a small basket filled with more of the same, tiny metal circles that bore messages spelled out in groupings of individual words, much like the Magnetic Poetry fridge game I’ve seen for sale in stores but haven’t ever been brave enough to buy and try. Deep down I’m afraid I might not be smart enough to put the words I’m given together in a meaningful way, and who needs that kind of negative input, especially during the holidays? But as I stirred those button-sized beacons with my fingers, one truly captivated me; a picture of a radiating red heart, on top of which was the lone word “glow”.

It summed up completely the instruction I’d been hearing from God repeatedly since Thanksgiving weekend, so I grabbed it and dumped it on the counter with the rest of my fantastic finds as I tried to make my way out of the store. I considered it the best buck I’d spent all season.

Later I dug it out of the bag and set it on the windowsill over the kitchen sink, likely the place in the house I visit the most, where surely each viewing would remind me how I was to live that day. It took some time to position it correctly, tilted upward at just the right angle for the message to be visible and readable on a round object that had a tendency to roll away. When I finally had it just so, I smiled, checked to make sure the kitchen was ready for the big Christmas dinner my sons were to cook with their friends that afternoon, and headed out the door to work.

It was probably a good thing I wasn’t there to witness the meal preparation itself, but I’ve been around my sons and their friends long enough to picture the event pretty accurately. Yet somehow in all the dishtowel whacking, back slapping, elbow jabbing and food flinging, a glorious feast was prepared and served up with style. By the time I had returned home the guests had moved to the living room for what sounded like a hilarious gift exchange, so I sat at the deserted table and surveyed the damage as I downed a plate of ham and mashed potatoes. Knowing they’d object if I started the clean-up, I added my own plate and fork to the pile in the sink and told myself I’d finish what they didn’t get done in the morning, and prepared to go to bed. Lifting my eyes for one last look at my little pin, I stared in horror at the now-empty spot it had occupied on the sill.

At some point in the boisterous preparations that afternoon, it must’ve been knocked off it’s precarious perch into the sink below. Quickly I dug through the plates piled in front of me, feeling with my fingers around the pots and pans piled nearby and even sticking my hand into the muck of the garbage disposal, hoping I could rescue it before the whirling blades did their duty the next time it was turned on. All to no avail; the little treasure had simply disappeared. I consoled myself with the thoughts that it might yet reappear and that its message remained even in its absence, and went on to bed.

Perhaps the scenario hit home because the same thing had happened to me spiritually just the night before. Determined to make this last month of the year the spiritual season it was meant to be instead of just a mad dash to the December 25th finish line, I had set some goals before me to guide my behavior each day. I looked at them regularly and accomplished them as best I could, and found this Christmas season to be much more satisfying than previous ones as a result. But just the night before I had allowed myself to get caught up in the rat race once more, and soon weariness, unrealistic expectations and self-pity overtook and passed me, leaving my joy and hope stumbling along somewhere in the dust behind them. My behavior modeled my resultant mood and I was anything but the spiritual light I had hoped to be. I did look for what I’d lost, feeling around the corners of the events of the day that had knocked me off track, even reaching deep into the muck of the pressure-filled moments into which my mood had fallen,, but its presence eluded me and I headed off to bed that night feeling like a failure instead of a dedicated follower of Christ.

The good news is that I got my “glow” back. The morning after the boys’ party I went to the sink and turned on the tap to get the morning coffee flowing, and there, lying next to the bottle of dish soap, was my little pin! It was in such an obvious spot that I surely had looked there a million times the night of its disappearance, and yet there it lay, waiting for me to simply pick it up and put it back in its spot once more.

Similarly the brightness of my mood returned as well. God’s Word promises that His mercies are new every morning, that the events of the day before can be forgiven and forgotten while only the lessons learned from them remain. What He whispered to me that morning was that He chooses perseverance over perfection, that He is actually more pleased when I pick up the day’s grace that He lays before me to give it a go once more than if I’d done everything right the first time. Perhaps that’s because He knows that perfection is impossible, but resurgent effort is often a sacrificial choice on our parts that pleases Him greatly.

I think back to that basket of pins in the store that morning, and realize that there were dozens of messages available to choose from. And likewise in life we are bombarded by attitudes and anthems that we sometimes pick up and wear for awhile before discarding when the newness wears off. Perhaps God is looking for some consistency from us; urging us to make our choice based on what we hear in His voice and then pin it on daily until it simply becomes a part of who we are and what we’re all about. That’s a resolution for a new life rather than just a new year, and it doesn‘t get any “happier“ than that!

“Let the word [spoken by] Christ (the Messiah) have its home [in your hearts and minds] and dwell in you in [all its] richness…” (Colossians 3:16 AMP)

Happy Holy Days

It was the day before Thanksgiving, but the customer before me was feeling anything but thankful. He groused and grumbled and snarled and complained about commercialism having taken over the holiday season, muttering about how things weren‘t like they were when he was young. His plan was to hole up in his house with his beer and his buddy and ignore it all as best he could. He walked under such a dark cloud of negativity and unhappiness that I absolutely couldn‘t wait for him to head out the door, so anxious was I to shake the dust of my contact with him off my spirit before it settled in and made me as unhappy as he.

His complaint is a common one, however, and truly our holidays have lost much of the holiness that made them special in the first place. Surely God is as anxious as we that we get back to the Reason behind the seasons of celebration, but I wonder if our constant griping and sermonizing about the situation is as repugnant to Him as my customer’s words were to me.

That’s a sobering thought. What bothered me about the shopper’s attitude was that he was doing nothing to change the situation himself. Complaining about something is easy; making a positive difference requires effort that many of us aren’t willing to expend. I think God would remind us that if we’re going to bring holiness back into the Christmas holiday it has to begin on a personal level. He isn’t nearly as interested in what is going on with the world as a whole as He is with what’s happening in each of our hearts. Perhaps He would ask us to consider what we can do individually to make this a season of reverence, worship and spiritual joy while still enjoying the secular sights and sounds that surround us as well.

I thought back to my disappointment of a week earlier when I’d missed an opportunity to participate in the annual “Light Up Hamilton” evening, that night each year in which the switch is flipped and the Christmas lights come on downtown, Santa makes his first visit to our hometown, and businesses up and down Main Street open their doors and invite the public in to enjoy food and musical venues of one type or another. I’d been asked by the owner of one such establishment to play Christmas carol violin duets with her that night, and eagerly looked forward to the event. As I waited for her to call and schedule a practice session I was mentally rosining up my bow, rounding up my music and requesting the night off from work so I could join in the fun. The only trouble was that her call never came. The day of the event rolled around and I called her place of business, wondering if she was just expecting me to show up and wing it with her as best we could. I thus found out that she’d been so sick she hadn’t been able to put any thought into the night’s activities and would have to cancel, hoping to try and do it later in the season instead.

I told myself that an unscheduled evening in such a busy season was a gift, and funneled my enthusiasm into some other necessary task. While there was nothing to stop me from joining the crowds in town anyway, somehow attending the event as an observer rather than a participant didn’t have the same appeal. Yet a lot of us are willing to do exactly that during this holy season of the year. We go through it passively instead of getting totally involved in the task of spreading a whole lot of hope and love and joy around. God showed me that my possible involvement with “Light Up Hamilton” had nothing to do with a musical opportunity at all. Rather He was extending to me a spiritual invitation to light up the lives of the people I run into this holiday season in as many different ways as I can, in the hope that somewhere in the Christmas chaos, He suddenly is the Light that they see.

The thought has turned this advent season has into an absolute spiritual adventure, and the wonder of it is that I don’t have to wait on anybody else to begin. I remembered the advent calendars we used to hang about the place when the kids were little that had tiny flaps that were lifted or doors that were opened to reveal a prize of some kind as the days were counted down to Christmas. They kept the focus on the holiday and the excitement running high as the days passed by.

God is likewise teaching me to “number my days” this December as He daily opens doors of opportunity for me to be a blessing to somebody else and somehow make Him known to those who are looking for some Light to shine in the dark of their unbelief.

So, like Santa I suppose, I’m making a list and checking it twice, once in the morning as I plan out my day and again at night as look back on what was accomplished during the hours of daylight. Hidden away in the back of my journal, it’s not for anybody but God and me to see, but I’ve found I have to be deliberate in my actions or the best of intentions gets lost in the busyness of the season. I simply don’t want the days of December to pass by without purpose or praise to His Name.

I’ve heard it said that doing something repetitively for thirty days turns the action into a habit. Thus our efforts to make this Christmas season merry for somebody else could turn the coming year into a happy new way of living, as well.

Much like that customer standing before me, one day we’ll stand before God and have a conversation as well about the state of the world and the part we played in changing it. How wonderful it would be to have the review light up His face and bring joy to His heart because our lives did the same to the people around us. As long as we wake in the morning with breath in our bodies we have a chance to make a difference. No time to delay; let‘s start today!

“Be mindful to be a blessing…” (Galatians 6:10)

Suddenly Silent

My cold left as quickly as it had come, but it took my voice along with it in passing. It’s been a long time since my vocal chords have been that silent. Try as I might, I could produce only the smallest of sounds; a mere whisper that failed repeatedly to express my thoughts, my needs, and my increasing frustration over the situation. Obviously unable to call off work over the telephone, I dressed and showed up for duty, leaving it to management to decide if I could fulfill the requirements of my job in total silence. But common sense warned me that when you work in a grocery store and it’s just ten days before Thanksgiving, as long as there is breath in your body and you can stand and scan groceries, there is no going home for something as inconsequential as a bad case of laryngitis. Behind the register I stayed.

Throughout the long day I thought a lot about the situation that was a mere inconvenience for me, but for many is a way of life. There are multitudes of people around us who have no voice in society because they are too young or too old or too sick or too poor to capture its ear. In their frustration over their failure to make themselves heard they instead make choices that we condemn or commit acts of violence against themselves or others that leave us wondering what went wrong and where we failed to provide the help and the hope that was so desperately lacking in their lives. Surely God wants us to stand up for those who cannot speak for themselves, to right the wrongs we see and have the power to do something about when He tells us to do justly, love mercy and walk humbly before Him. (Micah 6:8)

We are all born with something to say and an entirely unique way of expressing our message, one that is refined when we are born again with a purpose to declare the works of the Lord through the gifts and talents He gives us to do so. Yet we have an enemy who works to steal away our voice and silence the message that God would have us bring forth. His attacks may be physical in nature, through sickness and disease, hoping that we become too weak and ill to pursue our callings. Some of us are defeated by discouragement over the effort it takes to get across what we are trying to say, causing us to simply give up. Or he may enter through a chink in our spiritual armor, a weakness in our faith that leads to sin and a fall from grace. Over and over again of late we’ve seen on the political stage, in the sports arena, and in celebrity circles how a wrong choice somewhere down the line resulted in a ruined reputation, a career brought to an abrupt close, and opportunities to influence brought to an end. While a tragedy on an individual level itself, there is a domino effect on those who might have been helped or touched in some way by our lives had our voices not been silenced and our opportunities to speak not been squandered by the mistakes we made.

Thankfully we serve a God of second chances. As I found out today, you can get your voice back. Mine has returned slowly but brings with it a new appreciation of an ability I previously took for granted and gratitude towards the people who helped me in its absence; those who made calls for me on the intercom, encouraged me to rest it when I had the chance and passed me water or cough drops. God used my minor physical affliction to remind me that in the kingdom realm we speak in many ways other than just those that involve vocal chords, not the least of which is the emotional, financial or spiritual support we offer to God’s actual mouthpieces. We see in God’s Word that the spoils of war go to all who took part in the victory, not just those fighting on the front lines.

My Day of Total Silence ended on a humorous note. A male customer brought his groceries through my line and was tickled to discover that I couldn’t verbally respond to him, saying, “How can you be a woman if you can’t talk?” I let his comment pass with a (silent!) laugh but was reminded on a spiritual level that I can’t be all that God created me to be without my ability to speak on His behalf.

A spiritual voice is truly a gift to be treasured. Use it, don’t abuse it, and be very careful not to lose it.

“You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men.”
(Matthew 5:13)

Be Keepers

God can sometimes speak a message using no more than two letters placed side by side.

The first such combination to get my attention was one that most church-going Christians are familiar with…the P.K.‘s, or Preacher’s Kids, among us, a segment of society with unique characteristics and traits based on their experiences while growing up in a minister’s home. But in the 1990’s the P.K.’s I heard about all the time changed to the Promise Keepers, a movement aimed at encouraging men to be true to their promises to God, their wives, and their families. Then my kids turned into teenagers, and one in particular spoke nothing but the language of B.K., or Burger King…and it was in that period of my life that I very nearly became addicted to the Whopper Jr. with cheese. Maybe it was the promise that I could have it my way that drew me back again and again. But lately the King has been drawing me with another message using the letters B.K., one that has little to do with burgers and fries. Instead it centers on the importance of living life His way, specifically in the area of being my brother’s keeper.

It’s first in Genesis that the question of our responsibilities to our siblings arises, when God questions Cain concerning the whereabouts of his brother Able, and he responds with the query, “Am I my brother’s keeper?” It’s a question God is still answering in the affirmative today.

To tell the truth, the past thirty days have been pretty rough on many of my spiritual siblings, those likewise born into the family of God who are walking the road of faith beside me. Day after day has brought little but bad news in hospital rooms, doctor’s offices, emails on my computer and text messages on my phone.

Clearly there are some things God expects of us in response. To start with, He desires that we keep an eye on our brother, to know where he’s at, spiritually rather than physically. That means, of course, that we watch our brother’s heart, not so much his comings and goings. This can only happen if we communicate regularly and have built a relationship between us, so that we are able to talk freely and honestly about the difficulties we’re having and the struggles we face without fear of being judged or condemned.

The second expectation then is that we keep our brother’s confidences to ourselves, to be people who can be trusted not to divulge that which has been shared in private conversations and counseling sessions. We’re to help keep our brother on track, steering him back on course when he gets distracted or knocked about by the cares of this world. It might be up to us to just keep him moving, to pick him up and help him along when he feels like dropping out of the race or giving up on the Christian life completely. In order to do that, of course, we have to be keepers of our own spiritual lives, that we continually have something of value to share. All of the above can be summed up in Christ’s command that we simply keep loving one another as He has loved us.

In fact, the only way we can do as God expects is to keep our eye on the one Brother who taught us how to live a life of loving others. Just as He said He did nothing except that which He saw His Father doing, so should we keep our eyes focused on the Jesus we see in the Bible constantly loving, lifting, and leading others, and who now lives in our hearts to spur us on to lives of the same.

God’s purpose in this is two-fold. He wants us all to make it to the spiritual finish line, of course. But His heart is moved by those who have yet to even enter the race. It’s His hope that they will see Him in the love we have for one another (John 13:35) and be drawn by His Light on their own dark days.

Finally, God expects us to keep our brother in prayer. A lot of the people I love are in difficult places right now, and I approached my devotional time this morning with a heavy burden on my spirit as a result. Not surprisingly, God had the solution ready and waiting for me. He told me to list those whom I was most concerned about on the open page of my prayer journal. Obediently I wrote the names of four people whose needs were foremost on my heart, acknowledging again my complete inability to alter the life situations of any of them. On a post-it note I then was told to write out the words of my favorite verse: Be anxious for nothing, but in all things, through prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall guard your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus. (Philippians 4:6,7) Next I was instructed to tape the note paper on top of the names I’d written moments earlier. When I did so, I noticed that I was unable to see the problems I’d put down earlier, covered as they were by God’s promise of peace through the simple acts of prayer and thanksgiving.

A couple of hours later, I stopped at the local Starbucks, noting that it was shortly before noon. I was surprised to see the store nearly empty, so used am I to the long lines of the early morning hours when people are looking for a hot pick-me-up on their way to work or school. But I believe that it’s never too late for a latte, especially when pumpkin spice is on the menu, and as I placed my order I soon realized that fewer people in line meant more time to chat with the brew master behind the counter. Nodding my acceptance to his offer of an extra shot of espresso, I asked how his day was going.

“Well, I’m standing up. And I know where I am. So I guess it’s a pretty good day,” came his somewhat surprising reply. My heart, so recently released from the weight of its worry about others, suddenly laughed in response. My “brothers” and I, despite the situations we’re facing together, are likewise still standing. And it doesn’t matter where we are, because we know Whose we are. Truly that makes all the difference, and any day, no matter how difficult, a good one indeed.

“…I am yours…“ (Psalm 119:94 NIV)

Positively Powerful

I resolutely pulled the bookmark out of volume, opened the cabinet door that hid the trash can and unceremoniously dumped the book in. I was done. Resolutely I put aside my desire to be pulled into a story so artistically told by an author I love that I have no choice but to flip page after captivating page. This time I simply couldn’t get past the negativity of what I’d read so far; foul language, angry people in destructive relationships deliberately hurting one another. On a mini-vacation myself, I’d picked up the story hoping for a brief escape from that which surrounds me on a daily basis; I didn’t need it to follow me even into what was supposed to be pleasure reading. What surprised me was that I waited so long before giving up. I kept hoping the tale would take a happier tone, but as the plot continued its downward spiral I made the choice not to follow it any longer. There are too many people and situations in my life that need my positive input for me to fill my mind with thoughts from the other end of the emotional spectrum. The same is true for you.

Our outlook on life is our choice, but it is fed by other decisions we make on a daily basis that often seem unrelated: how much we sleep, what we eat, who we hang out with, what we listen to and what we allow our eyes to see. Surprisingly, one of the most important influences is what we allow ourselves to think. I’ve spent the recent months considering how that last item on the list is linked to the first, in other words, the importance of what we think just before we fall asleep.

As a simple example, the local baseball team this summer seemed to display an uncanny ability to suddenly lose a nighttime ball game after leading with two outs in the bottom of the 9th inning. Disgusted and disappointed, a look at the clock tells me it’s time to turn out the lights on more than just the game and go to bed. But is that a good idea? My summertime study said absolutely not, that it would be so much better for me to turn on Conan O’Brien’s late night talk show and laugh for fifteen minutes first, maybe read a chapter in a good book (The Book, perhaps?!) or think about something else that makes me happy before closing my eyes on the day.

It’s important to end each day on a positive note. The Bible tells us not to let the sun go down on our anger, a verse we mistakenly limit to marital disharmony, a warning not to go to sleep without making up first after a fight with our spouse. But there is much more to the verse than just that. Our minds dwell on that which we were concentrating when we fall asleep. If we’re upset when we go to bed, our agitated state can give us a restless night, causing us to start the new day tired and grumpy instead of alert and refreshed. But what if the opposite were true, and we closed our eyes deliberately considering the blessings of God which fill our days, or reflecting on the goodness of some person, the beauty of a place, or the happiness associated with an event that just occurred? Surely then our morning cup of coffee would be met with a grin instead of being the necessary prelude to producing one.

The idea expanded. What if we put our interactions with people to rest the same way? Mother Teresa said, “Let no one ever come to you without leaving better and happier. Be the living expression of God’s kindness; kindness in your face, kindness in your eyes, kindness in your smile, kindness in your warm greeting.“

Can you imagine how different our relationships with others would be if we made a deliberate attempt to end each conversation on a positive note, either with a laugh or a smile, an encouraging word, or an expression of love? The key word in that sentence is deliberate. It’s not something that comes naturally to a lot of people, especially when our own lives are troubled with trials and distress. But it can become natural when we put it into practice again and again. And what better way to fight back against the woes of the world than by lightening the load, even momentarily, for somebody else? When our minds are consumed with making others feel better we often find that we do, too, despite our unchanged circumstances. And it could be that an improvement in our mental attitude is the first step in altering the life situations which challenge us.

Finally, it’s important to enter our final rest on a positive note, as well. That can only happen if we’ve settled the issue of where we’ll spend eternity, for surely that is also our choice. Either we accept God’s offer of forgiveness through His Son, Jesus Christ, and live the rest of our lives in the peaceful assurance of salvation that it brings, or we reject the concept of our need of a savior and spend our final days in fear and dread of what lies ahead.

A woman coming through my check-out lane at the grocery store the other day had among her many groceries a copy of the wonderful best-seller, Heaven is For Real, in which author Todd Burpo shares his young son’s description of a visit to Heaven he experienced while undergoing surgery. She told me that a copy of the book was given to her mother while she was in hospice just before she died, and at that time she had responded angrily over the gift, asking her mother, “Why’d she give you that book? You’re not going anywhere!”

Yet the truth is that we’re all dying. God spends a good portion of the Bible talking about death and encouraging us not to fear it. Perhaps that’s because when our hearts are at peace about the end of our lives, we can take our focus off of our dying and put it on our living, where it belongs. Then dying is just something that happens in the midst of our living out God’s plans for our lives with fervor, joy and love for whatever time we have left.

If you find at any time of the day or night that your thoughts are being pulled in a negative direction, remember that they don’t have to stay there. I like Graham Cooke’s assertion in a sermon I heard one time that you can have a better thought. Trash the old, and simply think again.

“My son, preserve sound judgment and discernment… when you lie down, you will not be afraid; when you lie down, your sleep will be sweet… for the Lord will be your confidence…” (Proverbs 3:21,24,26 NIV)