Back to the Basics

There is no doubt that we are living in times of DOUBT! At least once every 5 minutes, someone is proclaiming that the end of the world is near and the sky is certainly about to fall. Lots of people are losing everything - my family has been touched by the loss of material things, too. And it is only human at those instances to ask the universal, timeless question: Why? Why me? Why this? Why now? Why?

Now after the fabulous set-up, the reader automatically expects an answer - sorry to disappoint, but I don't have one. I'm not sure why the economy is faltering, why it is affecting good people, why it can't be short-lived, why it is happening now, or why it has to happen. But, I will tell you a little secret - I'm hopeful. Hopeful because in times where life is not quite easy and people face tough choices, they remember where their strength truly lies: not in the economy, politics, government programs, or even church activities - but in God alone.

There are many promises in the Bible concerning His faithfulness in times of need. The one that I came across this morning is in Deuteronomy 30:9-10.

9) And the Lord thy God will make thee plenteous in every work of thine hand, in the fruit of thy body, and in the fruit of thy cattle, and in the fruit of thy land, for good: for the Lord will again rejoice over thee for good, as he rejoiced over thy fathers:

10) If thou shalt hearken unto the voice of the Lord thy God, to keep his commandments and his statutes which are written in the book of the law, and if thou turn unto the Lord thy God with all thine heart, and with all thy soul.

I grew up in the Apostolic Pentecostal church (and I'm still there!) hearing about the great revivals that had occurred shortly before my birth. The early 70s. And, honestly, I've been waiting since then to see something on that scale again - more than a good "revival" set of services, more than a good night of worship, but a real calling to the people: dedicate, commit, live for Me, sacrifice. I've seen many a powerful church service, but, honestly again, I've seen very little personal dedication, and as a consequence, very little "follow-up" to that fabulous service. It's time for that to change.

The promise is there - if we will dedicate ourselves, He will respond as He has since time began. He will be faithful. Our finances will improve, our jobs become sound, and our toys return to their home in the garage. But those are just side effects to the whole: we will be of one purpose with Him. We will see souls not just saved, but irrevocably changed into WHOLENESS. Not just HEALED, but made WHOLE.

I hear the whisper of His words. The question for the reader is simple: do you?

Promises, promises . . .

Genesis 11 was quite personal to me today. God speaks to Abram and tells him to GO. Abram GOES. God makes promises:  

Genesis 11:7 And the Lord appeared unto Abram, and said, "Unto thy seed will I give this land:" and there builded he an altar unto the LORD, who appeared unto him.  

If I were Abram, I would be so excited. I would be waking up every morning and looking around for all the great - stuff - that God was promising. I can almost hear Abram waking up and singing - This land is my land! This land is my land! God said it's my land! The land of Canaan! And for a childless man - that his children would have the land? WOW.  

And then . . . nothing. Crickets chirped. Famine ensued. And, yep, still no children for Abram and Sarai. Interesting incidents with Abram asking Sarai to lie about being his sister, but no land was his land. And even if it were, there weren't any children to give it to.  

Abram believed in the promise, but it gets harder to believe when you wait and wait and wait and wait - and it still doesn't happen. God kept renewing the promise and blessing Abram in other ways, but still no son. Not for a long time. And no land to call his own. For the majority of his life, Abra(ha)m was a nomad.  

Most of us would love for God to promise us something, but we would have the fortitude to wait on it the way that Abraham did? Would our faith grow faint in waiting? God has promised me some things, and I often find myself getting frustrated because it is taking SO LONG to get there. Why can't God just hurry up, or at least give me a peek at the blueprints so that I will know what to expect?  

God made some promises to me a few months back. And life has been good, but not without challenges, especially for my fabulous husband. He's had to adjust to life in a new area, and God has been making serious changes to who he is becoming. Gone is the BMW, the high-octane job, the freedom and money to take endless vacations. And he's had to learn to cook, because he can't stand anything I make. I have no doubht that he's looked up several times and wondered exactly what he's gotten into and wondered where the promise is. But, like Abraham, he's a faithful man. And God is going to be faithful to him. And since I'm along for the ride too, I guess that means that eventually it will all make sense.  

I guess the answer is that God always delivers on His promises, but not necessarily in our time frame. Not necessarily the way we want to see it. Not necessarily in the manner that we expect. But He delivers. Abraham kept believing, in spite of the waiting and in spite of his "mess ups". I'm trying hard to learn to do the same thing. I'd still like to see those blueprints, though?

A Tale of Two Trees

I have found through my life that God speaks to me through images. Sometimes they are profound, other times simple. And sometimes they just help me clarify the way that I am feeling at a given moment. This morning was one of those.

I was driving from the farm (where my kids are while I'm working - that's a story for another time) to my office this morning, and I saw the strangest and most beautiful tree. It was fascinating! It had two different types of leaves, two different textures of branches! I was so amazed that I slowed down to take a better look.

And that's when I realized that I was actually looking at two trees, grown so closely together that they had intertwined to form a single 'tree'. From a distance, you saw a beautiful, fascinating sculpture. Up close, you saw the intricacy of nature at work. Two separate trunks, about 3 feet apart, that had grown into a massive and beautifully combined structure. An evergreen and a deciduous tree, in perfect harmony. And as I looked at it, I marvelled at God's creation once again, and I realized something very important about myself.

I married very young, and in the haste of what was once called puppy love. By the one-week anniversary of the union, I regretted the choice. But I viewed (and still view) the vow as sacred, and I did my best to make the marriage work. It was never happy, and I never found the comfort in the relationship that I heard other people describe; but, there was contentment in obedience to God's word. I would never have ended the marriage of my own accord - simply because it went against my principles - but when the dust settled from my rather humiliating abandonment, I found myself keeping company with an emotion that would be considered odd for an abandoned woman: relief. Home became a refuge - a place of peace, rather than strife. Yes, I was relieved and thankful. Growing alone - an independent tree - was much better than being joined to a kudzu vine, so determined to dominate that it would choke the life out of its host without thought or compunction.

But back to the trees . . .

What I realized in that moment was that - should God ever will that singleness is not the state He wishes me to occupy - I want to be like those trees. An independent soul, with my own identity, who finds a way to perfectly meld, mesh and intertwine the aspects of my life with that of another. Not to lose who I am - but to fully and completely complement someone else in such a way that we together are more than we were apart. From a distance, a wondrous and lovely entity. Up close, two distinct identities formed together by the hands of a Creator who is never far away. Cooperative. Cohesive. Beautiful. Whole.

Sound like a fairy tale? Maybe. But wasn't it God who formed man from dust and woman from a rib? Seems like He specializes in fairy tales. And until then? I stand thankful that He takes care of His own.

I Woke Up This Morning With My Mind . . . Stayed on Jesus

Anyone who has ever been a parent - or just been around a child for any length of time - will tell you that they teach you far more than you will ever teach them . . .

A couple of weeks ago, my son - the smartest, handsomest, cutest, happiest and most loving little boy on the planet (Who me, biased?) - learned a new "trick". He's 14 months old, and new tricks are a specialty with him. He's very talented, and one his most amazing abilities involves his skill as a human alarm clock . . .

Promptly at 4:45 am, he woke up his Mama. As I dragged myself bleary-eyed to a sitting position, he began a very odd ritual. He clapped his hands, threw them up into the air and began to yell "Day-zoo! Day-zoo! Day-zoo!"

Day zoo. ?

My mind started working overtime. Since Pimsleur languages has yet to offer a course in toddler, I was on my own trying to translate this bit of communication. Well, he'd been to the zoo recently. Did he want to spend the day at the zoo?

So, brightly and happily, Mama says, "Oh yes, David Earl. One day soon we will spend a day at the zoo."

Blank stare.

Ok, I'll try again. "Day at the zoo! Monkeys - screech, ooh-ooh, ah-ah. Day at the zoo!"

He's laughing at me, thinking, silly woman. You are SO wrong.

So, I pick him up and we do our daily hug-and-kiss fest before his six year old sister comes in and gets jealous. And I forget about Day-zoo, in more ways than one.

The ritual repeats itself over the next several mornings. Clap-clap-clap. Wave-wave-wave. "Day-zoo! Day-zoo! Day-zoo!" And I am still utterly clueless. Until Sunday morning.

We go to church, drop Noelle off at Sunday school and take our usual pew. I put him down beside me. And then I see it.

Clap-clap-clap. Wave-wave-wave. And with the biggest grin I have EVER seen . . . "Day-zoo! Day-zoo! Day-zoo!" My, my. How foolish am I? Day-zoo is toddler for Je-Sus. And I laughed. And others laughed. And we all thought it was cute. And I missed the point for yet another morning.

Until Monday. 4:45 a.m. I'm still asleep, but I hear it. Clap-clap-clap. Wave-wave-wave. "Day-zoo! Day-zoo! Day-zoo!" And then the Lord speaks to me in that strange way that He will sometimes. The old song began to play in my mind:

I woke up this morning with my mind . . . staid on Jesus
I woke up this morning with my mind . .. staid on Jesus

And as the melody played on in my brain, this question came with it: How many times have you sung that song? Did you ever REALLY mean it? Did you ever REALLY wake up and think of Me?

And as I watched my sweet baby son, I realized he is a whole lot smarter than I am. He's still a baby who needs assistance to do . . . everything . . . but he's learned the most important lesson of all. Where his first priority should be.

Clap-clap-clap. Wave-wave-wave. Day-zoo! Day-zoo!

I may be a slow-learner, but I know when the Master is teaching me a lesson. So I lifted my hands, and joined my son.

Clap-clap-clap. Wave-wave-wave. Day-zoo! Jesus! THIS is the way to start the day!

Four hands, two voices. One Father, watching over us both. Thank you, my son. You have this day made your mother proud, and wiser too.

Of Human Bondage . . . and Tahitian Pork Roast

We are all bound by our expectations. We anticipate that things will go a certain way, and when they don't - we become frustrated and angry. We expect God to answer our prayers OUR way, and when He doesn't . . .

I purchase food through a food co-op - you pay for a box, and they fill it up. In that box are many things - things that must be cooked. And things that offer occasions for frustration.

So - I'm sure you're wondering where this is going - in the box of food, there was a pork roast. Very nice cut. Just perfect for one can of mushroom soup, some potatoes and some carrots. Traditional meat and potatoes. I was SO ready to get it going and then . . .

I checked the cupboards. No soup. No regular potatoes. Just a can of pineapple chunks in juice and a sweet potato. It was catastrophe. It was horror. It was unimaginable. OH THE HUMANITY . . . Roast can't be cooked any other way, can it?

Hardly realizing what I was doing, I opened the pineapples and dumped them in. Well, I was committed, might as well finish it . . . I peeled the potato, chopped it and put it in there too. And then the frenzy began. What other strange things could I put in with that roast? Two oranges, an onion, the left-overs of a bottle of barbeque sauce, honey, lemon pepper, spices, salt, pepper . . .

Well, I had done it - but how would it taste? I decided that, if I liked it, I'd name it Tahitian Pork Roast, and if I didn't, I'd tell myself that the pineapples just FELL in there. Eight hours later, my kids and I ate the best pork roast that has ever been prepared within the walls of my kitchen. Tahitian Pork Roast. Which led me to the question . . .

What do we miss when we are bound up in our expectations? When we as so caught up in our expectations of what SHOULD BE, do we miss what COULD BE if only we would let go of the reins - just a little?

I suppose I could have re-wrapped that pork roast and saved it for another day. I'm sure it would have been a good pork roast in the traditional sense. But I'm glad I didn't wait. I'm glad I took the plunge.

We aren't always promised and safe and smooth voyage. And we are not always promised that we will have the ending we expect. Sometimes, you just have to take the plunge.

Tahitian Pork Roast, anyone?

Ending One Dream . . . and Beginning Another

I can distinctly remember the day 3 years and 11 months ago that I signed the papers purchasing my home. It was sunny, and I knew there was a busy afternoon of moving ahead of us. I had just completed my first year of full-time teaching. My daughter was 2. And I was idly dreaming - with every box packed, with every wall painted - of the life we would build within those walls.

Fast forward - 3 years and 11 months later . . .

Those dreams are gone. They have been mourned. But it is time to move on. To new dreams . . .

Today, I signed the papers for my house again. The weather is just as sunny, but there is no busy moving ahead (though I do need to clean up the toys in the living room and call the plumber to work on the back bathroom). I now work as a paralegal part-time and a teacher part-time. My teaching contract has renewed! My daughter is 6, and my son is 13 months. And I'm idly dreaming again, but much differently this time . . .

I know that I'm expected to feel sadness - or at the least, melancholy - about this event. I know that because each time I share my news, people tell me how sorry they are - and I'm taken aback a moment before I respond to their sympathy. I know why they are acknowledging the sadness in the moment, but I'm not feeling sadness. Or bitterness or anger, or melancholy.

Instead, I'm relieved. I'm hopeful. I'm happy. When the world fell apart, I didn't believe that there was any way my children and I would still have a home when the dust settled - but look what God has done! It's a miracle! When the world fell apart, God was STILL THERE! And I just cannot honestly say that it leaves me with anything but . . . wonder, joy and hope. It's the ultimate miracle - the one that Christ performs in every life - when He takes the broken things and makes them better than they were before they were broken! And I rejoice at what He has done!

If He has ordered my steps through the minefield of the past few years, what more do I have to fear? He will order my steps through everything else as well. And I can be nothing but thankful for the new dreams - and the plans that He has for me.

So my daydreaming this time is much more general, because I have no idea what God has planned. I only know that He is good and will walk with me through every plan He has made. Whatever they might be . . .