I could have fallen in love with Steve’s dark eyes and hair. Or his big burgundy Mercury Marquis with the 8-track player. He was the only boy I had ever known that wore jeans and a corduroy blazer to class…in the 70’s – just wasn’t done but it was very sexy. I was attracted to all those things about him.
But the deal clincher happened the night of our first date. We were going out for a coke and a movie. We drove to the Tastee Freeze and sat for a bit and then started the short drive back to the little town movie theater to see Funny Girl. Along the way we passed a man with car trouble on the side of the road by Henderson College. Henderson was across the street from Ouachita where we both attended classes.
We pulled into a parking place downtown and walked to the theater. When we were almost at the ticket booth, he turned to me and said, “It may make us late, but would you mind too much if we drove back to help that man out with his car?” I told him that would be fine and we drove back. Thirty-nine years have passed and I can’t remember whether we were in fact late or even whether the man was still there and we helped him. But Steve’s concern so struck me that I called my mom that night and told her I had met the man I was going to marry.
Tonight we drove the golf cart to the community center to attend a benefit dinner. The skies were darkening the way they do so many early evenings here, but we didn’t care. We just figured we’d stay through the storm that would no doubt blow through quickly. Or we’d try to outrun it. Or, what fun, just drive home in it.
Sure enough the storm hit hard and fast as we were finishing our peach cobbler. We sat and visited for a bit; then Steve got antsy to get home and I was ready to sit on the back porch for the duration.
We went out to the front porch and I started laughing. Usually when we go to some affair or other at the center, there are at least 30 or so golf carts lined up in a row and a few cars scattered around. Tonight every parking space was filled with a car and there sat our soggy little cart alone on the grass – a testament to our being community newcomers.
The rain was pouring, the lightning was flashing, the seats were wet and the water was already standing in several-inch-deep puddles. Steve told me to stay put and he bolted across the sloppy lawn to get the cart for me. They are wonderfully adaptable little machines and he made a big circle around the lot and across the grass and pulled up onto the front porch to get me. There were several amused looks as Steve and I flew off into the rain, wet and laughing.
However we only got as far as the end of the community center street when he stopped and turned to me and said, “There’s a man back there whose wife is disabled and I think he’s struggling in this rain. Would you mind if we went back and gave him a hand?” I said of course not and we went back and Steve used the cart to transport her to the front porch. And I held back nostalgic tears of pride and gratitude that God had given me this good Samaritan of a man whose heart is so very tender.
Certainly we have had years of anger and frustration. There have been years when we have been strangers to one another. But we have endured. And tonight I felt like we came full circle at this most happy time of our lives together. I praise God for giving me this good and perfect gift of a man who cares about people.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Shiny, New and Ready to Fill
A gleaming new refrigerator sits in my kitchen ready to serve. The inside is sparkling clean and ready to fill with good things. The luminous silver of the outside attracts the eye. Can you see that I’m excited about my new kitchen appliance? That’s because it was a long road getting into its proper place…
We found the side-by-side at the local appliance store. Because we live in a small town, we like to support the local businesses whenever we can and, being last year’s model, this refrigerator was priced right! And it had all the bells and whistles we were looking for.
So this morning, with the kitchen sink and a cooler full of cold and frozen food, we waited for the men to come and slide the new model into the space. They arrived. We were all in a great mood. Until we heard those words you never want to hear from a doctor or an appliance delivery man… “Uhoh. We have a problem.”
Turns out the new monster (my attitude about the refrigerator was beginning to change) was about an inch too large for the space. First and easiest adjustment – remove the quarter-round at the bottom of the wall. Done. Still too big. Next and most useless exercise, we all took turns measuring the refrigerator and the hole, over and over, as if we could change the dimensions if we just kept measuring.
Finally the man said, “As I see it, you have two options: call someone in to shave an inch off your countertop or get a smaller refrigerator.” Perhaps I should mention at this point that I was sitting at the kitchen counter praying intently – not that the size of the refrigerator would change but that I would have a sweet pliable nature. It’s not as if I had one of those to begin with but could I please just have one this morning?
I wasn’t ready yet to admit the defeat of returning to find another refrigerator. Yet contractors are hard to come by in Manning, SC, especially on a Saturday morning. So I looked at the delivery guy who had impressed me as really capable. “Okay, here’s the deal…we’re going to be replacing these countertops in a year or so. Any chance you could shave off the inch?”
Have I remarked about what a champ the guy was? He discovered that there was an inch facing under the edge of the counter on the refrigerator side. He popped it off and cut the top and, finally! slid the new side-by-side into place.
So here she sits. And I have to think about my daily process of coming before God – old, useless, messy. And I confess my sins and I think I’m ready to be filled. But sometimes the space and I are at odds. A quarter-round of attitude still needs to be taken care of. An inch of rebelliousness needs to be shaved off. He shows me what I need to deal with and then He presents me to the world – new, shiny, ready to be filled with His good things – love, joy and peace.
Jeremiah 33:8; Romans 15:13; Job 8:21; Psalm 119:171
I will cleanse them from all the sin they have committed against me and will forgive all their sins of rebellion against me…May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit…He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy…May my lips overflow with praise, for you teach me your decrees.
We found the side-by-side at the local appliance store. Because we live in a small town, we like to support the local businesses whenever we can and, being last year’s model, this refrigerator was priced right! And it had all the bells and whistles we were looking for.
So this morning, with the kitchen sink and a cooler full of cold and frozen food, we waited for the men to come and slide the new model into the space. They arrived. We were all in a great mood. Until we heard those words you never want to hear from a doctor or an appliance delivery man… “Uhoh. We have a problem.”
Turns out the new monster (my attitude about the refrigerator was beginning to change) was about an inch too large for the space. First and easiest adjustment – remove the quarter-round at the bottom of the wall. Done. Still too big. Next and most useless exercise, we all took turns measuring the refrigerator and the hole, over and over, as if we could change the dimensions if we just kept measuring.
Finally the man said, “As I see it, you have two options: call someone in to shave an inch off your countertop or get a smaller refrigerator.” Perhaps I should mention at this point that I was sitting at the kitchen counter praying intently – not that the size of the refrigerator would change but that I would have a sweet pliable nature. It’s not as if I had one of those to begin with but could I please just have one this morning?
I wasn’t ready yet to admit the defeat of returning to find another refrigerator. Yet contractors are hard to come by in Manning, SC, especially on a Saturday morning. So I looked at the delivery guy who had impressed me as really capable. “Okay, here’s the deal…we’re going to be replacing these countertops in a year or so. Any chance you could shave off the inch?”
Have I remarked about what a champ the guy was? He discovered that there was an inch facing under the edge of the counter on the refrigerator side. He popped it off and cut the top and, finally! slid the new side-by-side into place.
So here she sits. And I have to think about my daily process of coming before God – old, useless, messy. And I confess my sins and I think I’m ready to be filled. But sometimes the space and I are at odds. A quarter-round of attitude still needs to be taken care of. An inch of rebelliousness needs to be shaved off. He shows me what I need to deal with and then He presents me to the world – new, shiny, ready to be filled with His good things – love, joy and peace.
Jeremiah 33:8; Romans 15:13; Job 8:21; Psalm 119:171
I will cleanse them from all the sin they have committed against me and will forgive all their sins of rebellion against me…May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit…He will yet fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy…May my lips overflow with praise, for you teach me your decrees.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Well-watered
For some of us, the sound satisfies. The undulating roar of the waves as they break and finish their foamy roll. The gurgle of a brook on a mountain hiking path. Even the man-made ripple of a fountain in the yard.
We visited Estes Park, Colorado. The overwhelming grandeur of the Rockies, the magnificence and humor of elk roaming the streets and hanging out on porches, the blinding sun off the snow-capped peaks all took our breath away. But the impression that stays with me most was the smallest and least imposing detail of our visit. A tiny brook bubbled its way from the mountains and the park, down through the streets of the little town and on into the canyons that lead away from that village-bowl that is set in the mountains. I sat on a bench next to the murmuring brook and just listened, lost in the wonder that God would use such a tiny feature to speak to me.
The sight draws some of us to return to a place again and again. Broad ocean vistas where the horizon melts away and the sky and sea blend into one. A mountain lake with an exact duplicate reflection on glass-smooth water, a blinding slab of silver when the sun hits it just so. Waterfalls so far away that they look like fluttering white ribbons as they crash onto the rocks and rivers below. The water always pulls us back.
I spent long summer hours in front of my grandmother’s old black and white television set watching classic movies, a great many of them westerns. While I lived for the cattle stampedes – exciting stuff – the picture that stays with me still is of the cowboy lost in the desert, on his knees clawing in the sand, frantic for water.
A healthy intake of water daily consists of 64 ounces. We are made up of anywhere between 55 and 75 percent water. We need it for properly lubricated internal organs and joints, beautiful skin, healthy eyes, efficient metabolism, movement of oxygen to cells, and regulation of body temperature. Plus when we’re really, really thirsty, it’s just what satisfies best.
A search in Scripture for the word “water” yields 436 results in the NIV. God gave us a desire for it because it is so necessary for life, both current physical and eternal. Jesus said, “but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:14) Once we accept this life-saving and continually life-giving gift, we are no longer crawling in the desert. It continues to bubble up into our daily lives, available for us to drink of the love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control that it offers. (Galatians 5:22, 23a)
Come and listen to the inviting sound of a bubbling spring. And drink freely!
Ps 63:1; John 7:38
O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.”
We visited Estes Park, Colorado. The overwhelming grandeur of the Rockies, the magnificence and humor of elk roaming the streets and hanging out on porches, the blinding sun off the snow-capped peaks all took our breath away. But the impression that stays with me most was the smallest and least imposing detail of our visit. A tiny brook bubbled its way from the mountains and the park, down through the streets of the little town and on into the canyons that lead away from that village-bowl that is set in the mountains. I sat on a bench next to the murmuring brook and just listened, lost in the wonder that God would use such a tiny feature to speak to me.
The sight draws some of us to return to a place again and again. Broad ocean vistas where the horizon melts away and the sky and sea blend into one. A mountain lake with an exact duplicate reflection on glass-smooth water, a blinding slab of silver when the sun hits it just so. Waterfalls so far away that they look like fluttering white ribbons as they crash onto the rocks and rivers below. The water always pulls us back.
I spent long summer hours in front of my grandmother’s old black and white television set watching classic movies, a great many of them westerns. While I lived for the cattle stampedes – exciting stuff – the picture that stays with me still is of the cowboy lost in the desert, on his knees clawing in the sand, frantic for water.
A healthy intake of water daily consists of 64 ounces. We are made up of anywhere between 55 and 75 percent water. We need it for properly lubricated internal organs and joints, beautiful skin, healthy eyes, efficient metabolism, movement of oxygen to cells, and regulation of body temperature. Plus when we’re really, really thirsty, it’s just what satisfies best.
A search in Scripture for the word “water” yields 436 results in the NIV. God gave us a desire for it because it is so necessary for life, both current physical and eternal. Jesus said, “but whoever drinks the water I give him will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give him will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” (John 4:14) Once we accept this life-saving and continually life-giving gift, we are no longer crawling in the desert. It continues to bubble up into our daily lives, available for us to drink of the love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control that it offers. (Galatians 5:22, 23a)
Come and listen to the inviting sound of a bubbling spring. And drink freely!
Ps 63:1; John 7:38
O God, you are my God, earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you, my body longs for you, in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, streams of living water will flow from within him.”
Friday, July 17, 2009
Life in the Wild
Life pounds with excitement here at the ranch. I receive some tough family news on Wednesday. So I'm already fragile and teary. And Chloe is driving me crazy, will not shut up and will not leave the wall unit, where the books are, alone. Finally I’ve had it. Refuse to cry anymore – might as well play some Nintendo. I go over to the corner and reach down to pick up my Nintendo by the wall unit. I catch a flash of something long and slithery. I'm thinking RATS, it’s a snake. So I jump up and see this lizard about 8 inches long just as he darts back behind the wall unit.
Steve gets home from golf and I’m crying again and blubbering something about lizards. He calms me down and we call the exterminator who says there’s nothing we can do but get a broom and chase him out. Or we could go to Walmart and get some of those glue trays and trap him. So we go to Walmart.
When we get back, there he stands by the back door. I get rid of the dogs and Steve sneaks around and opens the back door via the porch. Then he comes in with a broom and says “I’m going to scare him outside.” I’m saying “NO! What if he just runs across the room and then he’s got access to the bedroom!” I park myself on a stool to watch him and Steve says, “Okay then. I’m going to the pool.” (I KNOW, right?)
He goes to the pool and for the next 2 hours the dogs and I chase the lizard all over the house. By this time I’m feeling sorry for the little guy because Chloe is...well...big! And I’m not about to glue his little feet to a trap. So Steve comes home and, you guessed it, I’m sobbing again – this time because I’m feelin’ it for the lizard. He’s trapped in the dining room and he’s too tired to even get up on the bookcase. Long story short (I know, too late) we get some big empty plastic boxes and eventually corral him and put the top on and I release him into the wild. At the time, I never thought I’d laugh about it. But I have to say, now I wish I had a video.
Then today Chloe just snaps right out of her collar chasing a rabbit. Steve’s yelling out the back, “Chloe’s loose! I’ll get the golf cart!” Understand, when she got loose in Woodbridge, I was desperate. But here? It’s more funny than anything. Steve goes charging across lawns in the golf cart yelling, “Chloe! Get in the house!” And he’s literally herding her with the golf cart from side to side. She can outrun Steve but she knows she can't outrun the cart. I’m standing in the yard thinking, I should be concerned about this but I can’t concentrate for the theme from Rawhide that’s playing in my brain. Yeehaw!
Steve gets home from golf and I’m crying again and blubbering something about lizards. He calms me down and we call the exterminator who says there’s nothing we can do but get a broom and chase him out. Or we could go to Walmart and get some of those glue trays and trap him. So we go to Walmart.
When we get back, there he stands by the back door. I get rid of the dogs and Steve sneaks around and opens the back door via the porch. Then he comes in with a broom and says “I’m going to scare him outside.” I’m saying “NO! What if he just runs across the room and then he’s got access to the bedroom!” I park myself on a stool to watch him and Steve says, “Okay then. I’m going to the pool.” (I KNOW, right?)
He goes to the pool and for the next 2 hours the dogs and I chase the lizard all over the house. By this time I’m feeling sorry for the little guy because Chloe is...well...big! And I’m not about to glue his little feet to a trap. So Steve comes home and, you guessed it, I’m sobbing again – this time because I’m feelin’ it for the lizard. He’s trapped in the dining room and he’s too tired to even get up on the bookcase. Long story short (I know, too late) we get some big empty plastic boxes and eventually corral him and put the top on and I release him into the wild. At the time, I never thought I’d laugh about it. But I have to say, now I wish I had a video.
Then today Chloe just snaps right out of her collar chasing a rabbit. Steve’s yelling out the back, “Chloe’s loose! I’ll get the golf cart!” Understand, when she got loose in Woodbridge, I was desperate. But here? It’s more funny than anything. Steve goes charging across lawns in the golf cart yelling, “Chloe! Get in the house!” And he’s literally herding her with the golf cart from side to side. She can outrun Steve but she knows she can't outrun the cart. I’m standing in the yard thinking, I should be concerned about this but I can’t concentrate for the theme from Rawhide that’s playing in my brain. Yeehaw!
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Real Heat
No devotional today. And no, this is not my opinion on gun control. These July days remind me of my growing up years in Arkansas. Hot, wet, pray-for-rain-to-cool-things-off days. As a quick aside, I have to be honest and give my Arkansas cousins their due. They're enduring heat right now that puts ours in South Carolina in the shade. (I know. It's my mother in me. ) I'm talking about heat that rises on squiggly lines off the road in front of you, leaving a water oasis that disappears as you near.
I remember sleeping on an old iron bed in the front room at my grandma's house when I was growing up. Big attic fan roaring. A slight breeze from the open window would blow the curtains inward. Life was safer then and we had nothing to fear.
Here in South Carolina, our blinds stay closed on days like this, leaving a dark house that reminds me of the big old southern houses in the movies that were always dark in the heat of the day. Old bloodhounds or coonhounds passed out from the heat on the front porch. Tall glasses filled with ice and something exotic to drink topped with a mint leaf or two.
Late afternoon the clouds seem thicker and we go out into the yard and stare up. Are they getting darker or is that just wishful thinking? Sometimes the storms start with no warning, simply huge raindrops that appear. Usually though, it's the wind that we hear first. I run for my rocker on the back porch and settle in - excitement comes easily in South Carolina.
Our porch is screened across the back and the left sides which leaves easy access for the wind to moan through. The wind chimes hide in the corner; so even a hard wind brings only a low tone or two. A post shows me how quickly the clouds are racing. I watch the darkest part of the sky for the lightening.
Flashes satisfy me but I get up and pace for streaks. My mother willed me an interesting attitude about lightening. She loved the stuff. Before I was born, my dad would take her to our little hometown airport that had a hill and they would sit and watch lightening storms. On the other hand she raised me with respect and fear - the whole package - stay away from the windows, don't use the phone, don't take a shower. Basically what she left me was a desire to experience something that I awe and respect. (Yes, I'm resisting the urge to turn this into a devotional after all. But isn't that the way faith is?)
So I pace and rock and watch the show for as long as I can stand it, until the fear kicks in and I race for the inside. By this point the rain is usually coming in sheets and the porch is half-wet anyway.
Once the storm blows over, we head out in the golf cart to enjoy the cleanness of it all, until the heat and humidity take over and start the whole process again. I love South Carolina.
I remember sleeping on an old iron bed in the front room at my grandma's house when I was growing up. Big attic fan roaring. A slight breeze from the open window would blow the curtains inward. Life was safer then and we had nothing to fear.
Here in South Carolina, our blinds stay closed on days like this, leaving a dark house that reminds me of the big old southern houses in the movies that were always dark in the heat of the day. Old bloodhounds or coonhounds passed out from the heat on the front porch. Tall glasses filled with ice and something exotic to drink topped with a mint leaf or two.
Late afternoon the clouds seem thicker and we go out into the yard and stare up. Are they getting darker or is that just wishful thinking? Sometimes the storms start with no warning, simply huge raindrops that appear. Usually though, it's the wind that we hear first. I run for my rocker on the back porch and settle in - excitement comes easily in South Carolina.
Our porch is screened across the back and the left sides which leaves easy access for the wind to moan through. The wind chimes hide in the corner; so even a hard wind brings only a low tone or two. A post shows me how quickly the clouds are racing. I watch the darkest part of the sky for the lightening.
Flashes satisfy me but I get up and pace for streaks. My mother willed me an interesting attitude about lightening. She loved the stuff. Before I was born, my dad would take her to our little hometown airport that had a hill and they would sit and watch lightening storms. On the other hand she raised me with respect and fear - the whole package - stay away from the windows, don't use the phone, don't take a shower. Basically what she left me was a desire to experience something that I awe and respect. (Yes, I'm resisting the urge to turn this into a devotional after all. But isn't that the way faith is?)
So I pace and rock and watch the show for as long as I can stand it, until the fear kicks in and I race for the inside. By this point the rain is usually coming in sheets and the porch is half-wet anyway.
Once the storm blows over, we head out in the golf cart to enjoy the cleanness of it all, until the heat and humidity take over and start the whole process again. I love South Carolina.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Nose to the Ground
Walking our treeing walker coonhound, Chloe, exercises our persistence and patience. We must keep her head up and looking forward. Only then will she move at a reasonable pace. If we allow her to put nose to the ground, our forward progress stops. We can spend several minutes in one spot while she sniffs love letters from other dogs, promises from rabbits and messages left from who knows how many wild things that may have crossed the path over the previous hours.
Scenthounds are gorgeous creatures because of those beautiful sad eyes and the large droopy ears and jowls. Those of you who love hounds know what I’m talking about. Those of you scratching your heads, or shaking them in disagreement just need to trust me. A sweeter class of dog simply doesn’t exist. True, they are woefully stubborn, but their loyalty and personality make up for it.
Specializing in following a smell, the hound has droopy ears and extra folds of skin that help collect scent from the air and keep it near the dog's face and nose. Most of these breeds have deep, booming voices and they are entertaining to hear…for a while. They do not have to be as fast as sighthounds but they must be able to stick with a scent and follow it wherever it leads.
While my ears are normal size, I do tend to resemble my coonhound in seeking the way God intends for me to go. I proceed nose to the ground, searching, searching. I’m moving slowly forward – reading and highlighting my Bible, going to Bible study, going to church – always busy. I fret because I’m concerned that I’m on the wrong path, that I may miss what He has for me to do, just like Chloe who has been known to miss spotting a rabbit because she is obsessing over a patch of weeds.
I’m studying “Discerning the Voice of God” by Priscilla Shirer. Listen to what she says:
“We look around every corner to discover God’s will. We often carry a load of responsibility because we wonder if our decisions are in God’s will. Desiring and doing His will is not our responsibility to discover; it’s His responsibility to reveal…No longer do I frantically search for God’s will; I frantically search for God. I trust that it is His responsibility to show me what He wants me to do and how to do it by speaking through the Holy Spirit and the Word of God.”[1]
Often believers who are experiencing what I am going through refer to “being in the desert.” I was active, productive and involved in Northern Virginia. I find myself now in a holding pattern. It is ludicrous for me to call my situation a desert one. God chose what is surely one of the most beautiful places on the East Coast to relocate me. And my spiritual life, my relationship with God, feels anything but dry. My time with Him is full, lush and well-watered.
My sense of direction is simply confused. But I have learned to take my nose off the ground and look up. I believe God is telling me to just dwell in Him these days. And so many times in my life, He has given me a time of rest to prepare for what is coming. Because when He gets busy, I have to run, head up. No time to stop and sniff!
Philippians 3:13b, 14
But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
[1] Priscilla Shirer, Discerning the Voice of God (Lifeway Press, 2006) 41-42
Scenthounds are gorgeous creatures because of those beautiful sad eyes and the large droopy ears and jowls. Those of you who love hounds know what I’m talking about. Those of you scratching your heads, or shaking them in disagreement just need to trust me. A sweeter class of dog simply doesn’t exist. True, they are woefully stubborn, but their loyalty and personality make up for it.
Specializing in following a smell, the hound has droopy ears and extra folds of skin that help collect scent from the air and keep it near the dog's face and nose. Most of these breeds have deep, booming voices and they are entertaining to hear…for a while. They do not have to be as fast as sighthounds but they must be able to stick with a scent and follow it wherever it leads.
While my ears are normal size, I do tend to resemble my coonhound in seeking the way God intends for me to go. I proceed nose to the ground, searching, searching. I’m moving slowly forward – reading and highlighting my Bible, going to Bible study, going to church – always busy. I fret because I’m concerned that I’m on the wrong path, that I may miss what He has for me to do, just like Chloe who has been known to miss spotting a rabbit because she is obsessing over a patch of weeds.
I’m studying “Discerning the Voice of God” by Priscilla Shirer. Listen to what she says:
“We look around every corner to discover God’s will. We often carry a load of responsibility because we wonder if our decisions are in God’s will. Desiring and doing His will is not our responsibility to discover; it’s His responsibility to reveal…No longer do I frantically search for God’s will; I frantically search for God. I trust that it is His responsibility to show me what He wants me to do and how to do it by speaking through the Holy Spirit and the Word of God.”[1]
Often believers who are experiencing what I am going through refer to “being in the desert.” I was active, productive and involved in Northern Virginia. I find myself now in a holding pattern. It is ludicrous for me to call my situation a desert one. God chose what is surely one of the most beautiful places on the East Coast to relocate me. And my spiritual life, my relationship with God, feels anything but dry. My time with Him is full, lush and well-watered.
My sense of direction is simply confused. But I have learned to take my nose off the ground and look up. I believe God is telling me to just dwell in Him these days. And so many times in my life, He has given me a time of rest to prepare for what is coming. Because when He gets busy, I have to run, head up. No time to stop and sniff!
Philippians 3:13b, 14
But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus.
[1] Priscilla Shirer, Discerning the Voice of God (Lifeway Press, 2006) 41-42
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Southern Turtles
I’ve come full circle in so many ways since moving back to the South. Take turtles, for instance. I grew up in Arkansas where turtles always ambled across the streets and highways. I had forgotten them until I took a trip home to visit my relatives. I was following Steve’s folks home from dinner when I lagged behind because I stopped to pick up a turtle and move him across the street.
You don’t see many turtles in northern Virginia. They’re either very smart or very dead. One look at a road there will tell them it isn’t safe. The dangers are obvious and many. The swamps and woods offer the best protection.
In South Carolina turtles generally approach the edge of the road and see a clear way, though I’m fairly sure they don’t check both directions. They step out, slowly…always…and begin the long journey to the other side.
Dangers approach without warning on rural Carolina roads. Cars that are coming are coming fast. And yet the turtle has rarely calculated his odds before stepping out. Either I help him across, the next driver swerves or the turtle is airborne. (I prefer not to address the other scenario.)
We often sidestep sin rather easily by avoiding the road with the vehicles flying by. The signs flash a warning. To go that way is obviously dangerous; it’s easy to bypass. It’s when the highway seems most clear, when we are drifting along without any concern or thought of wrong – considering ourselves relatively flawless and feeling smug about the fact – that we are most likely to get hit.
It’s when I’m feeling pious and holy that I’m most likely to lash out in impatience or say something snippy. When my guard is down, my pride is usually up. Doors to gossip, judging, and hypocrisy slide open. And wham! My mouth gets me in trouble. Oops, did I say that out loud? I look at someone in the store and form a wayward opinion. I treat someone in a shabby way. Bottom line…I find that I’m not at all that person I thought I was. My mom was right when she told me to look both ways.
Romans 7:15, 17-20, 24; 8:1-2
I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do…As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it…What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?
Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.
You don’t see many turtles in northern Virginia. They’re either very smart or very dead. One look at a road there will tell them it isn’t safe. The dangers are obvious and many. The swamps and woods offer the best protection.
In South Carolina turtles generally approach the edge of the road and see a clear way, though I’m fairly sure they don’t check both directions. They step out, slowly…always…and begin the long journey to the other side.
Dangers approach without warning on rural Carolina roads. Cars that are coming are coming fast. And yet the turtle has rarely calculated his odds before stepping out. Either I help him across, the next driver swerves or the turtle is airborne. (I prefer not to address the other scenario.)
We often sidestep sin rather easily by avoiding the road with the vehicles flying by. The signs flash a warning. To go that way is obviously dangerous; it’s easy to bypass. It’s when the highway seems most clear, when we are drifting along without any concern or thought of wrong – considering ourselves relatively flawless and feeling smug about the fact – that we are most likely to get hit.
It’s when I’m feeling pious and holy that I’m most likely to lash out in impatience or say something snippy. When my guard is down, my pride is usually up. Doors to gossip, judging, and hypocrisy slide open. And wham! My mouth gets me in trouble. Oops, did I say that out loud? I look at someone in the store and form a wayward opinion. I treat someone in a shabby way. Bottom line…I find that I’m not at all that person I thought I was. My mom was right when she told me to look both ways.
Romans 7:15, 17-20, 24; 8:1-2
I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do…As it is, it is no longer I myself who do it, but it is sin living in me. I know that nothing good lives in me, that is, in my sinful nature. For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For what I do is not the good I want to do; no, the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing. Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it…What a wretched man I am! Who will rescue me from this body of death?
Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
One Nation Under God
I have felt it all week. This tug. This “you should write something patriotic for the fourth”. I am patriotic. I stand, hand over heart, when the flag passes and we sing the national anthem. I pray for our country and our troops. I feel it more this time of year though. This week I do a lot of praying for our country, usually in some meeting or other when I'm called on to pray.
The rest of the year, it’s business as usual. I get riled up when I receive another email with yet one more instance of God’s being removed from our lives. We’ve all seen them. A phrase left off this memorial; words cut out or taken down in that court building. I feel strongly for ten minutes or so and then righteous anger gives way to helplessness – no way I can make a difference. So I pick up my swiffer, my Nintendo or head for Walmart.
This country was founded on a belief in religious freedom. It was also founded on a belief in God. He can be seen in so many places in our nation’s capital. For now, at least. We as a country live with His blessing and by His grace. We usually quote 2 Chronicles 7:14, “if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”
We need to remember that it’s all His anyway. He’s entrusted it to us, blessed us with this place of our birth. This needs to be my “if only we could keep Christmas every day of the year”. I will continue to pray, next week, and the week after. To pray for an entire country seems futile. But I believe God listens.
Psalm 95:1-7
Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song. For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him. The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land. Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker; for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care.
The rest of the year, it’s business as usual. I get riled up when I receive another email with yet one more instance of God’s being removed from our lives. We’ve all seen them. A phrase left off this memorial; words cut out or taken down in that court building. I feel strongly for ten minutes or so and then righteous anger gives way to helplessness – no way I can make a difference. So I pick up my swiffer, my Nintendo or head for Walmart.
This country was founded on a belief in religious freedom. It was also founded on a belief in God. He can be seen in so many places in our nation’s capital. For now, at least. We as a country live with His blessing and by His grace. We usually quote 2 Chronicles 7:14, “if my people, who are called by my name, will humble themselves and pray and seek my face and turn from their wicked ways, then will I hear from heaven and will forgive their sin and will heal their land.”
We need to remember that it’s all His anyway. He’s entrusted it to us, blessed us with this place of our birth. This needs to be my “if only we could keep Christmas every day of the year”. I will continue to pray, next week, and the week after. To pray for an entire country seems futile. But I believe God listens.
Psalm 95:1-7
Come, let us sing for joy to the Lord; let us shout aloud to the Rock of our salvation. Let us come before him with thanksgiving and extol him with music and song. For the Lord is the great God, the great King above all gods. In his hand are the depths of the earth, and the mountain peaks belong to him. The sea is his, for he made it, and his hands formed the dry land. Come, let us bow down in worship, let us kneel before the Lord our Maker; for he is our God and we are the people of his pasture, the flock under his care.
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