A Very Good Friday...

I'm reading Prayer - Does it Make Any Difference? by Phillip Yancy...one of my favorite authors.  (It's SO good!)

Last night, I read a timely bit about Jesus' prayers.  The prayer he prayed for wisdom in choosing his 12 disciples and His prayers for the two disciples, Peter and Judas, who would deny and betray him.  At first glance, it would seem that God did not answer those prayers...after all, Jesus was crucified...had those two done right by Him, perhaps His life would have been spared...or does God work differently than we would think?

God used those two men to accomplish salvation for you and me.  God's "freedom-respecting" style of goodness and grace, allowed those two men to exercise their free will to do as their hearts would lead.  He gives you and I the same freedom.  That is why we need His grace.

In the book, Mr. Yancy describes the "freedom-respecting style of good and the freedom-crushing style of evil".  He examines Mark 9, where "a young boy was foaming at the mouth, gnashing his teeth and throwing himself into fire and water.  In every way, evil possession transforms the boy into a caricature of a human being, forcibly overwhelming human freedom.  Contrast that scene with possession by the Holy Spirit.  Paul warns, "Quench not the Spirit and grieve not the holy Spirit of God"  The Lord of the universe becomes so small, so freedom-respecting as to put himself somehow at our mercy."

Wow.

As I ponder Good Friday...the day we recognize as the day Jesus, God taking the form of a man, died on a cross - the most degrading form of death at the time - to pay the price of the sin of every man, past, present and future...I think of this freedom-respecting style of God.

He doesn't die for us and then get in our face and say "LOOK WHAT I DID FOR YOU!  OBEY ME!!"

No.

He loves us and waits for us.

The Lord is not slow to fulfill his promise as some count slowness, but is patient toward you, not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance. - 2 Peter 3:9 

What is His promise?  His promise is eternal life for all who accept His gift of grace...freedom from death...and the promise of eternity with Him.  

"not wishing that ANY should perish"...not one.  no matter what they've done.  no matter who they are.  no matter who they love.  no matter where they've been...or how long it's taken them to see...to accept...to repent...because all have sinned...and all need a Savior.  

I'm so thankful that God respects my freedom to choose...to believe or not to believe...

I'm so humbled that God, the God of the Universe, loved me...and you...little us...so much that He would die in our place so that we may live...

What a Good Friday!

Dumb Chicken!

This is Pearl.
She's my dumbest hen.
I've learned a lot about chickens in my time as a chicken lady...
They're chicken...as in scared...not species.
They aren't terribly smart.
They are generally followers, except for the hen at the top of the pecking order.
They're fast.
They're twitchy.
They squawk a lot.
They can destroy a patch of lawn in no time flat!
And other various things, the most important being that they are hilarious!
Pearl is a special kind of dumb.
She is near the bottom, if not ON the bottom of the pecking order.
She is a poor follower.
She is chicken...the most chicken hen I have.
I enter the pen and she starts running to get away from me,
sometimes running TOWARDS me, realizing her mistake and changing directions abruptly, squawking a warning of my aggression to her coop-mates...all of whom understand that I will be throwing them scratch and flock around my feet in anticipation...
Pearl is always on the edge of the crowd...missing the bulk of the treats.
I sometimes throw some out to her...
She runs away, frightened.
Dumb hen.
Lately, I've been letting the ladies out of the pen to feast on bugs, worms, green leafys and other goodies.  They generally stick close to the house and close together.
Even Pearl knows the drill.
Until it's time to go back into the pen.
After a few hours of scratching and nibbling and bathing in soft, dry dirt, the ladies are ready for a handful of scratch and the comforts of home.
I grab a handful of grain and call them back into the pen...
They come running...
Into the coop they go where I've thrown a handful or two of their favorite treat!
All, that is, except for Pearl.
She ALWAYS get's "stuck" outside the fence.
She runs back and forth, back and forth, back and forth...
"Where's the door...I can't find the door!" she squawks
She's in full panic mode...
Running, running, running...
back and forth...back and forth...
I say "Oh my gosh, you're so dumb!"
And I sigh and grab a little handful of scratch to give her a trail to the door...
It doesn't work.
She's too dumb to figure it out.
"It's over here!" I say
I move away from the door to give her room to come in without feeling threatened by my presence...
Nope.
She continues to panic.
She's sure the door is on that side of the pen...but WHERE did it go??
I usually give up after about 5 minutes of coaxing...By then the other ladies have eaten most of the scratch.
I go into the house and let her panic alone...the other hens watch her, I imagine what they must be thinking...it's no wonder she's on the bottom of the pecking order!
After she paces on the outside for about 15 minutes, she is calmer, perhaps able to think clearly (if that's even possible for her to do) and I go back out, into the pen again, grab some more scratch and THEN she figures it out.
It's a dance we do every single time they are allowed out of the coop...
every. single. time.
And I wonder...
Am I like Pearl?
When God wants to give me something, do I rely on my own ideas or thoughts or wisdom to find it?
Am I listening when He opens a door and says "Go right in and feast?"
Do I say "NO, you don't understand!  The door is on this side of the situation...THIS is the right way!"
The door to my coop is around a corner from where Pearl runs back and forth...
It takes a good amount of trust for a chicken hen to go around a corner...especially if the hen is as chicken as Pearl.
It takes a good amount of trust for me to step out of my own knowledge of what the situation is...to trust God's plan for my life.
I have to believe that He knows more...seems like a "duh" moment...it should be a "duh" moment, but I always seem to question and hesitate or turn the other way...I can't see the door.  I can't see that it's open.
I rely on myself, rejecting God's wisdom.
I don't want to be a Pearl...I want to go through doors the second they're opened...to reap the bounty of God's goodness...to step out in faith and not be so "chicken".
Thankfully God doesn't stand by the door saying "OH my gosh, you're so dumb!"...He lovingly waits...patiently...for me to stop being so....Pearl-like!
I'm working on it...God is good...the opportunities to grow in faith are endless and daily and I pray that someday I won't relate to creatures like Pearl!  :)
Isaiah 55:8-9  For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, declares the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts higher than your thoughts.

Texting and Trusting...

I have this daughter that goes to foreign lands to serve the Lord...and she has a mother that trusts God BUT wants to know details so she can be SURE everything is in order...that God's got all His ducks in a row...wait...that is a bit contradictory...

Here's how it went down...

I received a text message at 3am this morning...as my daughter boarded a plane in Miami, bound for Haiti...

Love you mom!!!  Talk to you in two weeks :-):-):-)

The text message chime woke me up...I read it and my heart started beating a little bit harder.

I texted her back.

Love you too!  Praying for the team and everyone you'll meet!  Have a save trip!

Love, Love, Love!

I prayed for her...I prayed for the team and for the people she would be meeting and for the children she'd fall in love with...thanking the Lord for the opportunity He'd given to her, I laid back down...closed my eyes...and...

Did she take her malaria meds?  She should have started taking them already.  She never mentioned them to me.  We went over everything she packed and she never mentioned the medicines the travel clinic gave her.  She must have.  Surely the team talked about that in their meetings.  What if she forgot them?  What if she doesn't have the medicine and she GETS malaria?  What if I get a call saying that she's deathly ill in a hospital in Haiti?  What if?  She MUST have taken it....it's probably in her backpack.  

I prayed, asking God to protect her from malaria.

Amid my swirling worry, she texted:

Love Love Love

Oh good, she's still got her phone on!  I should ask.  No, that would be silly.  What if she DID forget it and now she's going to worry too!  But I could trust God and not ask and just trust that He'll protect her.....hmmmm.....

:)

I shouldn't ask...that would be very faithless of me....but...

You're taking your malaria meds right?

Just checking!! (when you put 'just' in front of a word, it minimizes the next word...just sayin'...just checking...."I know you did, I'm just saying it out loud, I don't really need to ask...just checking.")

Love you!  Wrap it up with a little love and she'll never know I was worrying...it's hidden...she'll never know I've been stewing for the last 10 minutes...

Yes in a minute. :-)

love you don't worry

I'm in God's hands :-) 

:-)

Tears sprang to my eyes.

I won't worry!!!!  I know you are!

Schooled by my own daughter.

If I can't rest in the knowledge that she's in God's hands, I will not know rest.

God has called her to be His hands and feet.

To step in as His ambassador.

If He called her to do His work, He's not going to leave to her helpless.  

I know that in my head.

That truth sometimes gets stuck in worry on its way to my heart.

Today I'm thankful that God is with Emily and all of the people around the world sharing the Gospel with every nation.  

They're in His hands.

In His very trustworthy hands.

Philippians 4:19

And my God will supply every need of yours according to his riches in glory in Christ Jesus.

Trustworthy...

I've been praying a lot lately...
There's so much going on.
The world is hurting...
my loved ones struggle...
my kids are far away...
we are in transition...
excitement is afoot...
And just when I feel like my prayers are going up and turning to vapor...
disappearing...
falling on deaf ears...
God sends a message.
LOUD AND CLEAR
I've got this.
I heard you.
I hear you.
I love you.
Trust me.

OK...I will...and...Thank you!

Psalm 138:8
The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me;  your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever.
Do not forsake the work of your hands.

Sunday Morning Fights...

Anyone else fight on Sunday morning?
Okay, maybe not full-blown fights...how about disagreements, short tempers, snippy responses...anyone...?
Yeah, pretty typical for us on Sunday mornings...always on the way to church.
Yesterday was no different...
and after years and years of this, I finally saw it coming and decided to do something about it...
What did I do, you ask?
nothing.
nothing?
Yes, nothing.
When the disagreement began, I bowed out.
Didn't respond.
Recognized it for what it was.
What was it?
An attempt to distract me from what I was going to church to do...
to worship God.
to hear God's word.
to learn something.
to fuel up for the week.
ultimately, to bring glory to God.
So when it happened, I prayed.  I asked God to tell me how to respond.
And I got nothing in return.
which was an answer.
so that's what I did.
Not typical for me.
I like to say what's on my mind.
But I shut up.
the car was silent for a few miles.
and then I saw a bumper sticker.
It read:
"As a former fetus,
I am against abortion."
Which is freakin' awesome.
So I said so.
Which diffused the tension.
I was on to the next thing...
so he was too...
which left the negative behind...
and allowed me to let go of the irritation.
so I could worship.
and I did.
and it was good.

Then something interesting happened.
The day went on without incident.
and as we drove home from a party that evening,
he said "I'm sorry about this morning"
and I thought about it.
I couldn't remember what had happened.
He elaborated slightly.
My memory was jogged.
I said "Thank you"
I forgave him.
And God nudged me and whispered "Thank YOU for obeying me,
For keeping your pie-hole shut,
For not making things worse!"
And then it hit me.
I don't often hear "I'm sorry".
But there it was.
When I obeyed.
God is like that.
He sees.  He doesn't forget.
Even when we do.
That was better than anything I learned at church.
And it all started in the car, with a Sunday morning fight...

Proverbs 10:8
The wise of heart will receive commandments, but a babbling fool will come to ruin.

The Value of Mud

She stood on the path, blocking our way.  We approached her slowly.  She stepped to the side.  She was pretty, but she wasn’t as energetic as others that wandered nearby.  I took note of her belly…swollen.  She must be pregnant I thought.  She blew air out of her nose lazily, making a long puffing sound. Her head was down.  She wasn’t bothered by our presence, but her eyes watched.

            “She’s pretty”, I said.

            “She looks old and tired”, my husband added

            “She’s PREGNANT” I rushed to her defense…she was too tired to speak up for herself…to winny at him in protest…to rear up on her hind legs and show him her real strength.

            “Let’s go”, he said, taking my hand…let’s find some shark’s teeth!”

            We headed down the path to the small beach the ranger had said held the treasure we sought.  We already had a bag full of beautiful shells we’d found on the beach but there were sharks teeth on the other side of the island and we wanted to find a few to add to our collection.

            We arrived at the beach to feel the earth giving slightly under our steps. 

            “It’s muddy” we echoed each other

            We could see the beach just a few yards away but the mud – which was invisible under a layer of sand and grass – was like quicksand.  We kept trying, walking up and down the area surrounding the beach.  We discovered that if we walked very quickly, the ground wouldn’t have time to give.  We scampered over the grassy, muddy, sandy stretch to the beach.  Our shoes were covered in dark gray mud.  We wandered onto the sand until…it started to give way.  I quickly jumped to some more solid-looking sand…it was sinking sand too!  My shoe was sucked under and I struggled to pull it out as my other foot sank.  My husband was sinking too and he quickly ran to the safety of the land beyond the beach. 

            “If you go fast, you won’t sink!  Hurry!” he called to me.

            “ACK!  I’m sinking!”  I yelled

            “Run over this way” he called.

            “I’m coming” I replied as I stretched my legs as far as they would go, leaping from where I was to more solid ground.

            Our shoes were muddy and so were our pants.  We were a mess! 

            As we walked the path back to the dock, we noticed the horse again…this time she was lying down.  She looked up at us as we got closer but she didn’t get up.  Why was she just laying there?  I worried.  Was she okay? She didn’t seem THAT close to delivering.  As we got closer, she finally, very slowly, and with great effort, rose to her feet.  It was then that I noticed her legs.  They were muddy all the way up to her swollen belly.  She had been stuck in the mud too! 

            “OH look at her legs!” I said   She looked at me.  I could see the exhaustion in her eyes.  How awful that must have been…pregnant, heavy, struggling to get free from the sinking sand.  She must have been frantic.  No wonder she looked so old and tired.  She’d spent every ounce of her energy!  I talked to her, telling her we’d been stuck too and how scary it must have been for her.  She was muddy, very muddy, but I hadn’t noticed.  It wasn’t until I’d wrestled with the mud myself that I was able to see evidence of her struggle.

            I thought about that on the walk back to the dock.  How often do I ask God to show me how to serve others and in the same prayer, ask him to keep me from discomfort and struggle.  Trials can be the answer to the first part of that prayer.  Trials are not wasted.  They are often the tie that connects us to someone else.  Enduring a struggle can help us see a brother or sister in the midst of one, or the ability to tell them where the mud is…to warn them against the danger.  A shared trial can be a comfort to someone who feels utterly alone.   

            Perhaps when we pray for opportunity to connect with others, we could also pray for grace to withstand the inevitable mud we wander into every day...to be thankful for the trials that grow our faith and draw us nearer to God…for eyes to see the value of mud and empathy to care for those who are stuck.

James 1:2-4

Count it all joy, my brothers, when you meet trials of various kinds, for you know that the testing of your faith produces steadfastness.  And let steadfastness have its full effect, that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.

Cumberland Island is a barrier island on the Florida/Georgia border.  http://www.nps.gov/cuis/index.htm