This morning, I stood at the back door, hoping to see the little finch that sometimes comes to feed. No finch joined the sparrows and jays, but instead – an incredible visual of God’s creative beauty.
Across the back acre stood a hedgeapple tree that suddenly decided to shed its leaves. No wind ruffled the morning stillness, but a bright sunbeam glittered from the tree’s branches.
Then – like a papery rainstorm, the leaves let loose of their tiny limbs and floated in a spontaneous dance to the ground. Silent. Serene.
It was as if God’s alarm had suddenly clicked and the leaves knew they were destined for a move. This was the day, the moment that they dropped and began mulching the autumn ground.
I sighed and thought, so like life. We live from day to day, just breathing, hoping to project God’s beauty in our dark world. Then one day – suddenly it’s time to make our move. To drop from sight, to begin a new ministry, to graduate from earth to heaven.
The timing is unknown yet specific. And we hang on tight until God says, “Now!”
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
The Encourager
Part of my job description involves encouraging the group leaders and the volunteers that I supervise. So I regularly send out emails and cards to let them know how great they are and how much they are appreciated.
Other encouragements are an important part of my life. Every day, I try to encourage my son and once a week I call my sister to encourage her as she lives with our “memory-challenged” mother. Every couple of weeks, I call my brother to encourage him in the daily stresses of life. Several of the people on my prayer list need encouragement, so I try to be there for them. Last week, I met with a beginning writer and encouraged her in her pursuit of the dream of publication.
But the other night, I hit the wall and wondered, who will encourage me?
As I cried out to the Lord, he answered with Isaiah 41. He reminded me that each of us encourages the other. Neighbors encourage brothers. The craftsman encourages the smelter and he who smooths metal encourages the blacksmith. We lift each other up by kind words and actions – by praying for each other in the dark corners of life.
Encouragement is such an important task in these last days. We all need to be encouraged. But the One we can always count on is the Lord Himself. “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isa. 41:10).
Then God repeats Himself. Whenever God repeats a message, we need to listen. “Do not fear…I will help you…your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel” (vs. 14). “I will not forsake you. I, the Lord, will answer” (vs. 17).
Do not fear. Do not be discouraged. The Almighty One holds your hand and upholds you. He encourages you. He is with you. He prays for you.
He is the One who nudges me to encourage others and when I hit the wall, He is the One who lovingly picks me up and holds me close.
If you’re hitting the wall today, let Him hold you.
Other encouragements are an important part of my life. Every day, I try to encourage my son and once a week I call my sister to encourage her as she lives with our “memory-challenged” mother. Every couple of weeks, I call my brother to encourage him in the daily stresses of life. Several of the people on my prayer list need encouragement, so I try to be there for them. Last week, I met with a beginning writer and encouraged her in her pursuit of the dream of publication.
But the other night, I hit the wall and wondered, who will encourage me?
As I cried out to the Lord, he answered with Isaiah 41. He reminded me that each of us encourages the other. Neighbors encourage brothers. The craftsman encourages the smelter and he who smooths metal encourages the blacksmith. We lift each other up by kind words and actions – by praying for each other in the dark corners of life.
Encouragement is such an important task in these last days. We all need to be encouraged. But the One we can always count on is the Lord Himself. “Do not fear, for I am with you; do not anxiously look about you, for I am your God. I will strengthen you, surely I will help you, surely I will uphold you with my righteous right hand” (Isa. 41:10).
Then God repeats Himself. Whenever God repeats a message, we need to listen. “Do not fear…I will help you…your Redeemer is the Holy One of Israel” (vs. 14). “I will not forsake you. I, the Lord, will answer” (vs. 17).
Do not fear. Do not be discouraged. The Almighty One holds your hand and upholds you. He encourages you. He is with you. He prays for you.
He is the One who nudges me to encourage others and when I hit the wall, He is the One who lovingly picks me up and holds me close.
If you’re hitting the wall today, let Him hold you.
Wednesday, September 28, 2011
The Value of Women
Maybe it’s because I’m working for a faith-based women’s center, and I’m seeing more of the struggles. Maybe it’s because of a phone call yesterday – a woman crying on the phone, seeking counsel for her and her boyfriend – domestic violence, pain, fear. Maybe it’s because I’ve lived long enough to wonder why the church is still silent about many women’s issues – even though women represent half the church.
Growing up in a legalistic religion, I heard about submission at least once every calendar quarter. It was drummed into us from the pulpit, in the Sunday school and in every day life. Men are the head of the home. Men should do all the really important jobs in the church. Men are in authority over women – always. Women must submit, even to the point of denying their right to live.
While some of the teaching was indeed biblical, no mention was made of the serious issues of abuse – physical, emotional or spiritual. Not once did I hear a sermon about mutual submission as recorded in Ephesians 5:21. No one ever explained why it was okay for Abraham to force Sarah to lie about their marriage, because he was afraid. The leadership of the church seemed to negate that example by pounding into my feminine brain once again that my own gifts of leadership were not acceptable in the male-dominated world of church. I wondered then and still wonder – are the sons of Abraham still afraid? Do they not know how to deal with women who might balance out their gifts, females who might be able to deal with women’s issues and exercise leadership?
Many of us women who were called to serve ended up in parachurch ministries where our abilities and gifts were acceptable and welcomed. Some of us, myself included, who wanted to attend seminary and earn a Master’s of Divinity swallowed our dreams and bowed to the authority of the traditional male model. Many of us still wonder – what if?
Last week, I read a novel where the main character was an Episcopal minister – a woman minister. In considering her call, she said, “Christ had nothing against women; he knew their value. He liked having them around.”
Of all the religious leaders in the world, Jesus Christ was the only one who truly valued women and respected their giftings. He let Mary sit at his feet when it was culturally unacceptable for a woman to learn. He inspired Aquila and Priscilla to serve with Paul and possibly (?) co-write the book of Hebrews. Jesus called Rachel Saint and Anne Graham Lotz and Joyce Meyer to teach the Gospel to anyone who would listen – male or female. And today, this Savior of the world, this Jesus reminds us that time is short and in the last days – men and women will prophecy.
I do believe that Jesus values me and likes having me around. I honor Jesus as my Husband and Maker. I find purpose in hearing him whisper, “Don’t be afraid. You are one of my chosen women. I have given you the right to serve me.”
Growing up in a legalistic religion, I heard about submission at least once every calendar quarter. It was drummed into us from the pulpit, in the Sunday school and in every day life. Men are the head of the home. Men should do all the really important jobs in the church. Men are in authority over women – always. Women must submit, even to the point of denying their right to live.
While some of the teaching was indeed biblical, no mention was made of the serious issues of abuse – physical, emotional or spiritual. Not once did I hear a sermon about mutual submission as recorded in Ephesians 5:21. No one ever explained why it was okay for Abraham to force Sarah to lie about their marriage, because he was afraid. The leadership of the church seemed to negate that example by pounding into my feminine brain once again that my own gifts of leadership were not acceptable in the male-dominated world of church. I wondered then and still wonder – are the sons of Abraham still afraid? Do they not know how to deal with women who might balance out their gifts, females who might be able to deal with women’s issues and exercise leadership?
Many of us women who were called to serve ended up in parachurch ministries where our abilities and gifts were acceptable and welcomed. Some of us, myself included, who wanted to attend seminary and earn a Master’s of Divinity swallowed our dreams and bowed to the authority of the traditional male model. Many of us still wonder – what if?
Last week, I read a novel where the main character was an Episcopal minister – a woman minister. In considering her call, she said, “Christ had nothing against women; he knew their value. He liked having them around.”
Of all the religious leaders in the world, Jesus Christ was the only one who truly valued women and respected their giftings. He let Mary sit at his feet when it was culturally unacceptable for a woman to learn. He inspired Aquila and Priscilla to serve with Paul and possibly (?) co-write the book of Hebrews. Jesus called Rachel Saint and Anne Graham Lotz and Joyce Meyer to teach the Gospel to anyone who would listen – male or female. And today, this Savior of the world, this Jesus reminds us that time is short and in the last days – men and women will prophecy.
I do believe that Jesus values me and likes having me around. I honor Jesus as my Husband and Maker. I find purpose in hearing him whisper, “Don’t be afraid. You are one of my chosen women. I have given you the right to serve me.”
Saturday, September 10, 2011
In the Bible Study Magazine, Tod Twist writes, “We all have skewed ideas about how our lives should look so that we can do what God wants us to do.”
I think he’s right. Sometimes I am certain that God wants me to suffer unabashedly for my faith and be willing to face the martyr’s blade (always hoping it won’t hurt too much). More often, I would very much like to hole up in a cabin somewhere and write incredible words that would influence the world. The pen-mightier-than-the-sword type of words.
Rarely do I consider the fact that each day and each moment might be a special calling for what God wants me to do – a service of the seemingly mundane. Washing dishes and carefully stacking them so that they’ll drip dry – at the same time, praising God for the hot water that cleanses plates and bowls.
Or answering the phone and listening – really listening – to a frantic voice on the other end, then praying with that person about a specific trauma so she can hope again.
Or kissing my son goodnight and telling him once again, “I love you.” That seems like such a normal service, yet surely God is pleased whenever we love others as we love ourselves.
This weekend as we celebrate the tenth anniversary of 9-11 and the horrible tragedy of that day, we will be reminded of all the ordinary moments those people lived. Boarding an airplane and turning into a hero over the plains of Pennsylvania. Going to work in a diner and later helping a debris-covered man phone his wife with the news, “I’m alive.” Watching the news over and over that day and holding our children close. All types of service that surely pleased the heart of God.
What does God really want us to do? Just live and love. In all the normalcies of each day, without the skewed attitude that we must be in the pulpit or on the mission field or listed as church staff in order to be accepted by God. Just live and love. Be God’s people in the everyday moments of life. And be grateful.
I think he’s right. Sometimes I am certain that God wants me to suffer unabashedly for my faith and be willing to face the martyr’s blade (always hoping it won’t hurt too much). More often, I would very much like to hole up in a cabin somewhere and write incredible words that would influence the world. The pen-mightier-than-the-sword type of words.
Rarely do I consider the fact that each day and each moment might be a special calling for what God wants me to do – a service of the seemingly mundane. Washing dishes and carefully stacking them so that they’ll drip dry – at the same time, praising God for the hot water that cleanses plates and bowls.
Or answering the phone and listening – really listening – to a frantic voice on the other end, then praying with that person about a specific trauma so she can hope again.
Or kissing my son goodnight and telling him once again, “I love you.” That seems like such a normal service, yet surely God is pleased whenever we love others as we love ourselves.
This weekend as we celebrate the tenth anniversary of 9-11 and the horrible tragedy of that day, we will be reminded of all the ordinary moments those people lived. Boarding an airplane and turning into a hero over the plains of Pennsylvania. Going to work in a diner and later helping a debris-covered man phone his wife with the news, “I’m alive.” Watching the news over and over that day and holding our children close. All types of service that surely pleased the heart of God.
What does God really want us to do? Just live and love. In all the normalcies of each day, without the skewed attitude that we must be in the pulpit or on the mission field or listed as church staff in order to be accepted by God. Just live and love. Be God’s people in the everyday moments of life. And be grateful.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Vision vs. Memories
Recently, I heard a wonderful explanation about the importance of vision. Do you know why the windshield of a car is so much larger than the rearview mirror? Because vision is more important than memories.
So many times we get caught in the pain and confusion of memories. Therapists make a living on our memories. Our journals contain page after page that relates to the past while our memoirs make sense out of the years we have lived.
We can learn much from the past, especially how to avoid repeating it. But if the past and its experiences create strongholds that hold us back from being all God created us to be – then we are in actuality traveling backwards. Our rearview mirrors have exchanged places with our windshields.
Psalm 71:17-18 reminds us to keep looking forward and keeping reaching out to the next group of memory-makers. “O God, you have taught me from my youth, and I still declare your wondrous deeds. Even when I am old and gray, O God, do not forsake me, until I declare your strength to this generation, your power to all who are to come.”
In order to reach the next generation with the power of Christ’s love, we have to have vision. We may be old and gray, but as long as God gives us breath – we can share the truth in love. We can still use our spiritual gifts, because God does not stamp them with an expiration date. We can experiment with new ways to reach out and not let tradition trap us in that rearview mirror.
Memories can be sweet, but vision propels us forward. And ultimately, it is vision that brings produces hope.
So many times we get caught in the pain and confusion of memories. Therapists make a living on our memories. Our journals contain page after page that relates to the past while our memoirs make sense out of the years we have lived.
We can learn much from the past, especially how to avoid repeating it. But if the past and its experiences create strongholds that hold us back from being all God created us to be – then we are in actuality traveling backwards. Our rearview mirrors have exchanged places with our windshields.
Psalm 71:17-18 reminds us to keep looking forward and keeping reaching out to the next group of memory-makers. “O God, you have taught me from my youth, and I still declare your wondrous deeds. Even when I am old and gray, O God, do not forsake me, until I declare your strength to this generation, your power to all who are to come.”
In order to reach the next generation with the power of Christ’s love, we have to have vision. We may be old and gray, but as long as God gives us breath – we can share the truth in love. We can still use our spiritual gifts, because God does not stamp them with an expiration date. We can experiment with new ways to reach out and not let tradition trap us in that rearview mirror.
Memories can be sweet, but vision propels us forward. And ultimately, it is vision that brings produces hope.
Friday, August 12, 2011
My Tree is Gone
After an Oklahoma-style hurricane: 96mph winds, straight-line force and no warning; the country paradise where I grew up has been decimated. The roof of the house has been lifted and transported to various sections of the pasture. Outbuildings which protected valuable machinery lie in tatters while the lovely trees are now a brush pile waiting for the farmer’s torch.
It is a time of loss for my family that involves days of sweat under the August heat, experts in appraisals and insurance as well as questions that begin with “What now?” I grieve for the disruption of all that was good in a place where I grew up with sunsets, fresh air and the freedom of childhood.
For me, the greatest loss is the felling of my special tree. This particular elm was created for climbing. With a giant knothole just the right height for boosting one’s adolescent self upward and another branch for hanging on – it took only minutes to vault from the ground into the security of upper limbs. On a quiet day – admittedly, that rarely happens in northwestern Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plains – I could hide within the still boughs of my tree and pretend I did not have to learn to wear a bra or start my period or deal with one more math quiz. In the solace of my tree, I cried out to God to rescue me from the hormonal rages I did not understand and the zits that dotted my face. That tree heard about my first boyfriend and my first heartache, about the prize I won at the county fair for my rock collection, about the first rejection from the words I sent to a New York publisher.
The tree represented safety when fear of the unknown gripped me – when I grew more and more serious about a particular boy in college and when I applied for a short-term missions trip and read the acceptance letter. Even before I walked down the aisle to marry another Okie, I spent an evening in my tree – reminiscing about childhood, knowing I would never again have the opportunity to whisper secrets therein.
In the cruel moments of one afternoon, a microburst reached down its powerful fist and toppled my tree. Nothing is left except the memories of a young girl who grew up on the plains of Oklahoma and found a solid foundation in the arms of an elm. How I wish I could climb there now.
It is a time of loss for my family that involves days of sweat under the August heat, experts in appraisals and insurance as well as questions that begin with “What now?” I grieve for the disruption of all that was good in a place where I grew up with sunsets, fresh air and the freedom of childhood.
For me, the greatest loss is the felling of my special tree. This particular elm was created for climbing. With a giant knothole just the right height for boosting one’s adolescent self upward and another branch for hanging on – it took only minutes to vault from the ground into the security of upper limbs. On a quiet day – admittedly, that rarely happens in northwestern Oklahoma where the wind comes sweeping down the plains – I could hide within the still boughs of my tree and pretend I did not have to learn to wear a bra or start my period or deal with one more math quiz. In the solace of my tree, I cried out to God to rescue me from the hormonal rages I did not understand and the zits that dotted my face. That tree heard about my first boyfriend and my first heartache, about the prize I won at the county fair for my rock collection, about the first rejection from the words I sent to a New York publisher.
The tree represented safety when fear of the unknown gripped me – when I grew more and more serious about a particular boy in college and when I applied for a short-term missions trip and read the acceptance letter. Even before I walked down the aisle to marry another Okie, I spent an evening in my tree – reminiscing about childhood, knowing I would never again have the opportunity to whisper secrets therein.
In the cruel moments of one afternoon, a microburst reached down its powerful fist and toppled my tree. Nothing is left except the memories of a young girl who grew up on the plains of Oklahoma and found a solid foundation in the arms of an elm. How I wish I could climb there now.
Friday, July 22, 2011
Where are we Hiding?
Such a curious scripture. Adam and Eve knew they had sinned. They bit into the forbidden fruit and disappointed Creator God. They forgot how he provided for all their needs and how they enjoyed those long talks with him each evening. One bite was enough to send them into panic mode. They looked for a giant bush and hid.
God walked in the garden, longing to talk with his favorite creation and asked, “Where are you?”
How strange that the One who painted dots on lady bugs and stripes on zebras asked that question. Obviously, the one true God who knew how to position planets so they wouldn’t slam into each other also knew where this fearful man and his wife were hiding.
But he asked, “Where are you?”
God asks the same of us. When he wants us to slow down our frantic pace and listen for his soft baritone – where are you? When we’re afraid to approach him because we’ve disappointed the only One who loves us completely, he knows we’re hiding from repentance. Where are you? When we’re angry because he took someone away from us or allowed us to lose jobs or didn’t rescue us from that dreadful diagnosis, he reminds us that he has a bigger plan. Where are you?
Of all the phrases in the Bible, this may be the most poignant. The question of a loving God who cares so much for our frail substance that he constantly searches. The Almighty who is lonely for his loved ones and just wants a few moments of uninterrupted conversation. The longing heart of divine intimacy, searching and pleading and always knowing the answer.
Where are you?
Hiding from God delays His loving arms wrapped around us and His whispered, “I love you.” But only for an instant. He will always find us, because He already knows where we are.
We are where we have always been – in need of Him.
God walked in the garden, longing to talk with his favorite creation and asked, “Where are you?”
How strange that the One who painted dots on lady bugs and stripes on zebras asked that question. Obviously, the one true God who knew how to position planets so they wouldn’t slam into each other also knew where this fearful man and his wife were hiding.
But he asked, “Where are you?”
God asks the same of us. When he wants us to slow down our frantic pace and listen for his soft baritone – where are you? When we’re afraid to approach him because we’ve disappointed the only One who loves us completely, he knows we’re hiding from repentance. Where are you? When we’re angry because he took someone away from us or allowed us to lose jobs or didn’t rescue us from that dreadful diagnosis, he reminds us that he has a bigger plan. Where are you?
Of all the phrases in the Bible, this may be the most poignant. The question of a loving God who cares so much for our frail substance that he constantly searches. The Almighty who is lonely for his loved ones and just wants a few moments of uninterrupted conversation. The longing heart of divine intimacy, searching and pleading and always knowing the answer.
Where are you?
Hiding from God delays His loving arms wrapped around us and His whispered, “I love you.” But only for an instant. He will always find us, because He already knows where we are.
We are where we have always been – in need of Him.
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