Hiding Behind the Baggage

Hiding Behind the Baggage

Alesha Leveritt

In reading I Samuel this morning, I was a little disappointed. I always count on my morning scripture reading for inspiration and an “idea” that sparks my mind for the rest of the day. And this morning, I just didn't get it – at least not at first.

The scriptures were I Samuel 9-12: the story of Saul's selection as king. Interesting passages, but nothing jumped out at me until I started writing out some prayer and reflection about my own life. I was talking (whining, really) to God about the fact that I would never achieve what I wanted to in my walk with Christ because of all my baggage. And then suddenly, my memory triggered back to this:

I Samuel 10:20-22 (NIV)

20. 
    
    
    When Samuel gathered all the tribes of Israel, the tribe of Benjamin was picked.
21. 
    
    
    Samuel had them pass by in family groups, and Matri's family was picked. Then he had each man of Matri's family pass by, and Saul son of Kish was picked. But when they looked for Saul, they could not find him.
22. 
    
    
    They asked the Lord, “Has Saul come here yet?”
    The Lord said, “Yes. He's hiding behind the baggage.”

Yep, there it was. Perhaps the greatest excuse for lost Christian potential. The BAGGAGE. We all have it. Of course, some of our baggage is prettier than others. You may have floral baggage with filigrees (something beautiful that you have a hard time leaving behind). My baggage looks a little more like the gym bag that got left in the back of the pick up truck in the rain (story for another time, but trust me, it's UGLY). I have it. You have it. He has it. She has it. We've all got BAGGAGE! And it creates a very convenient little place to hide when we are afraid of what God is calling us to do.

Saul didn't think he could be king. He'd started out that day searching for Daddy's lost donkeys. Donkey-hunter to king is a pretty big leap for anybody, much less with no preparation. Yes, Saul had prophesied, but only once. Yes, his heart had been changed, but that did NOT mean an absence of fear. Here was Saul, donkey-hunter, tall to the point of being awkward, and after one training session, he was to be king? Saul counted every failure he had ever experienced, every time he had made the wrong choice, every time he had spoken too soon and appeared foolish, every time someone had told him he wouldn't amount to much. He packed them in some bags and camped out behind them. The baggage was real, but more importantly, so was Saul's fear. He used the baggage to build a wall to keep him away from the destiny God had planned.

How many of us are guilty of that same thing? God calls you to do something, and you say, “Oh, no Lord. I can't possibly do that. I'm a failure. I've messed up too many times. Nobody will give me any credibility. I'm an ex-con. I'm divorced. I'm not well-educated. I'm too educated. I can't speak well. My mother dressed me funny. No, not me. These bags here will hold me back. Just move on and find someone who doesn't have all this . . . this . . . STUFF.” Do any of us realize (preaching to myself again) that when we do that, we are placing our baggage in front of God's greatness? We are basically making the statement that GOD who created heaven and earth pales in comparison to STUFF , BAGGAGE?

Today, stop hiding behind your past failures. Stop hiding behind your insecurities. Take the step of faith. Step out from behind the baggage and into the future God has promised you! 

What It Takes to be Called - Part 2

Part II:  Then Comes the Glory, but It Doesn't Seem Too Glorious . . .

The break has been a longer than expected due to Project Reclamation (which included such smaller gems as Operation Bunkbeds, Operation Keyboard, Operation Bye-Bye Teal . . .), but as I was puttering around the house this evening, the Lord said that it was once again time to write.  So here I am . . .

The last part of the examination of Isaiah's calling was about what had to happen first – the death of the King.  What came next was the glory.  We like that word a lot, at least I did growing up.  I can distinctly remember a sappy, sugary Peter Cetera song about “The Glory of Love” . . . “I am a man who will fight for your honor, I'll be the hero you've been dreaming of.  We'll live forever knowing together that we did it all for the glory of love.”  Sweet song, and that was my concept of glory – feels good, looks good, is nice to snuggle up with and cuddle.  That, folks, is NOT Biblical glory.  Not even a little bit.

My first glimpse of what Biblical glory was really about came through one of Tommy Tenney's Godchaser books.  He said (to paraphrase) that modern Christians confuse the anointing and the glory of the Lord.  The anointing puts you in the zone, feels warm and wonderful, and generally just makes the world feel right.  The glory, though, knocks you on your face.  That's just what happened to Isaiah.

Isaiah 6:3 – And one cried unto another, and said, “Holy, holy, holy, is the Lord of hosts:  the whole earth is full of his glory.

The glory of the Lord has arrived at Isaiah's doorstep.  His train is filling the temple.  Watch what happens next:

Isaiah 6:4  And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and the house was filled with smoke.

I don't know about you, but that doesn't sound really warm and wonderful to me – more like an earthquake combined with a tornado.  The very foundations of the temple trembled; it became difficult to see clearly.  There was a haze about the place that blended with Isaiah's grief.  And what was Isaiah thinking about?

Isaiah 6:5 – Then said I, “Woe is me!  For I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips:  for mine eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts.

In the midst of this majestic and quite frankly terrifying display of power, in the midst of his intense grief over loss, Isaiah realizes that he, who has faithfully worked for the kingdom, is still woefully unworthy to be in the presence of a holy God.  He realizes that he is part of a people with unclean lips living in a fallen condition, still undeserving.  Even now.  How humbling for him that must have been.  And to have seen the King – to want to approach Him so badly – and to know that you were completely undone in His presence.

Thus far, we know this, if you want to be called,
You will experience great loss as things that are not compatible with the promise are stripped away.
You will experience a tearing and a shaking in your life, as the very foundations of your faith are shaken, just as the foundations of the temple were shaken in Isaiah's time.
You will become aware that you are NOT who you need to be . . . yet.

Have you seen your foundation shaken?  Have you felt your world tremble in doubt as you faced a loss?  Have you been left unable to see the direction that you need to take?  Does your world seem hazy and full of pain?  Do you feel unworthy to do what God has called you to do because of these things?  Then look up, God may be calling . . .

There is a cleansing that must take place if you are going to fulfill His call.  And that cleansing may just lead to more pain.  Makes you wonder, when someone says that they want to be used of God, do they really understand what that means?  And as for the pain, more on that later . . .

I think that God must owe me a resurrection

Anybody who knows me knows that my identity is pretty bound up in three things: faith, family, and literature. Pretty much in that order.

In my English I classes (which are pretty lively as a general rule), I am going to finish up Romeo & Juliet in the next few weeks. We've had so much fun with it! But it is not time to begin to turn my planning attention to another one of my favorite plays of all time: The Miracle Worker by William Gibson.

The first year I taught high school, my daughter was just learning to talk, and Gibson's play fascinated me because it showed me such a window into the way that we human beings learn language. I instantly fell in love with Helen, Annie, and the dedication of one young woman to work a miracle in the life of another. The story was captivating, in so many ways, and truthfully, each year I look forward to going back over the old ground. And each year, I learn something new.

There is a point in the play where Annie, haunted by the voice of her long dead brother, squares her shoulders and faces down her benefactor with the title line: "I think that God must owe me a resurrection . . ." He instantly takes her as being impardonably sacrilegious. I on the other hand find her statement one of unrestrained faith. She, while perhaps not devout, understood some of the principles that God holds so dear. And one of them is this - He has promised us a resurrection in His word.

I don't just mean the resurrection at the end of this walk of life, but a resurrection of our souls each and every time we look to Him in the midst of a trial. He says it, over and over. Bro. Allen preached tonight from James - Draw nigh to God and He will draw nigh unto you. It is that "resurrection" of hope, of faith, of joy, that we can cling to in dark times.

Like, Annie, I too feel like making a bold statement of faith. God owes me a resurrection too. Not because I deserve it. Not because I've done anything to earn it. Because His word promised it, and the Word cannot lie.

So, I will wait on the Lord, knowing that my help comes from Him, and if I hold on, He will rebuild for me. He will resurrect, and He will redeem.

In my quest not to bury myself in the hole and hide, I was praying earlier this week for 'something' constructive to do this weekend while my kids were away. Honestly the prayer was tinged with just a little desperation. The thought of having to face an empty weekend was a little more than I could handle.

And what do you know? In the mailbox, there is a card announcing a Vicki Yohe concert. I actually attended one of her concerts before - 20 years ago to be exact, in Carthage, Mississippi. I called my friend Kim, for whom this was also going to be a difficult weekend, and she agreed to go with me. Not exactly a party, but it sure beats being at home alone.

Not sure what I was expecting - a few songs. A night out. But in the midst of the concert, the Lord truly spoke something to my heart. As Vicki Yohe was singing, she also made a statement about prayer - instead of begging God, speak your desires into existence.

Now, I know that is not a novel concept, and I'm quite sure that in 34 years of church attendance, I've heard it many times. But what I realized was that for the longest time, that's not been the way I pray. I have groveled, begged, and gotten frustrated because God didn't give me the blue lollipop instead of the red one. (You know what I mean . . . )

So I left the concert with a whole new attitude. I want a different kind of life than the one I have lived for the past 16 years. I want the Lord to use my gifts for His glory. I want to develop friendships. I want a strong family. And, in a very practical sense, I need my current house to sell so that I can start over. If I truly want those things (and groveling hasn't worked), perhaps I had best try praying the prayer of faith and speaking those desires into existence.

It's time for faith - not just begging God for something to happen, but believing that HE WILL DO IT. Anyone want to join me?

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.

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 . . .