On Waiting

“Show me Your ways, O Lord; teach me Your paths. Lead me in Your truth, and teach me; for You are the God of my salvation; on You I wait all the day long.”  Psalm 25:4-5

I sat at the intersection waiting to turn right.  There was a boy standing on the corner next to me, violin case in hand.  We both stared at the same red light.  As the light was about to change, traffic had let up and ordinarily I would have jumped at the chance to take my turn. I saw the car behind me and knew the driver would be impatient.  But I waited the few seconds, knowing the boy would step into the intersection any minute. The light turned green and I waited for him to cross.

HONK!!  

I looked in my rear view mirror and saw that look sprawled across her face.  That angry, disgusted, I-have-somewhere-important-to-be look.

The light is green, why don’t you go?

My car and some trees kept her from seeing the boy.

I don’t know if she ever did see him and realize her impetuousness, or if her attitude had gotten her so twisted up and focused on herself that she missed him altogether.

I can be that way sometimes.

I can get that look.

Maybe not always on my face (although I’m sure that happens more than I’d want to admit), but it’s on my heart.  And God sees it.

When I’m waiting for the painful circumstances of my life to change, when I’m waiting for an answer to my prayer, when I’m waiting for someone else to MOVE!

I become impatient. Impetuous.  Rash.  I move when I shouldn’t.  And I make mistakes.

I forget that I’m waiting on God, the Author and Finisher of my faith.

All good authors take time to get the details just right.

And God is a good author.  The best, in fact.

So He waits for circumstances to line up the way they need to be.  He waits for my attitude to change.  He waits for other people around me.  He waits for the timing to be just right.

But I don’t always see what He sees.  Almost never, in fact.

Much of the time I’m so focused on myself and my immediate wants that I can miss the fact that God is doing a work, not just in my life, but in my heart, and even in the people around me, and that takes time.

So He waits for me to look up.

“To you I lift up my eyes, O you who are enthroned in the heavens! Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till he has mercy upon us.” Psalm 123:1-2

Our waiting is not without purpose.

We look to Him, waiting patiently, expectantly, on a loving God to use the circumstances of our lives to mold us into the image of His Son.

We watch Him as He reveals truths, teaches lessons, grows our faith.

We wait and let Him bring us to maturity.

Sometimes the waiting is short and sometimes it’s long.  Very long.  Sometimes the consequences are small, and sometimes they’re bigger than we ever imagined.

I remember another story about a woman in a car.  A woman who loved the Lord with all her heart.  A woman who became impatient.  She sat in traffic behind a row of cars, and she was in  a hurry.  The lane next to hers was a lot shorter, and she was tempted to take it.  She heard the still, small voice of the Holy Spirit telling her to wait.  But she was in such a hurry.  She ignored the small voice and listened to her own.  Quickly she changed lanes to get ahead, but what she didn’t see was a boy crossing the street.  Before she knew it she had hit him.  He died of his injuries.  As I watched her interview, she was overcome with grief.  The thing is, she hadn’t done anything that any of us wouldn’t do.

But God saw what she didn’t, and He lovingly, patiently, tried to warn her.

Just like He tries to warn us and teach us.  The question is: are we going to listen?  Are we going to be the sheep who walk off a cliff, or who hear His voice and follow Him?  (John 10:27)

We think we know what’s best, but we don’t. Only God sees the future.  And He has much to say to us, to show us, to teach us, if we will only look up and listen to His still, small voice.

Eyes on the Ball

“Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen, since what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

“Keep your eyes on the ball!”
 

I don’t know how many times I heard those words lobbed to me as I stood at home plate, bat in my little hands, waiting for the pitcher to underhand the softball in my direction.

But I could never do it.  The ball became nothing but a blur as it spinned toward me, and then past me.  I simply could not get a fix on that little white ball.

Had I loved sports (instead of being forced to do my time by the Department of Education) I could have practiced and learned how to focus my eyes and maybe even make contact.

Learning to focus on anything, foregoing all the distractions, takes practice.

Even focusing on the Lord takes patience and lots and lots of practice. Without focus on Him, everything becomes a blur, and we forget our purpose–to glorify God in all we do.

But we first have to love Him, and in order to love Him, we have to know Him.

We have to forego other things in order to spend with Him, practicing His presence, hearing His voice.

But so much…life….can get in the way.

So much of our pains and sorrows and worries and temptations and earthly goals take us away from our time with the Lord.  Maybe we’ve been offended by God and we’ve allowed that to create distance.  Maybe it’s sin we’ve allowed to settle in our lives.  An unforgiveness.  A bitterness.  Maybe we’ve just let the little daily urgencies of life keep pushing out what’s most important.   

We can forget that those things that trouble us are not the problem, but only a temporary tool used in the hands of a loving and gracious God to bring us to full maturity.  We can forget that He is fully capable of handling them and that we don’t need to let them overcome us.  We can place them at Jesus’ feet and look into His eyes.

We can choose to take our eyes off those things…off the crowd, off the other team, off the world…and put them back on Jesus.  Back on the ball.  Only then will we find success—peace and joy and real love–in the kingdom of God.  Only then will we be able lay up real treasures in heaven where this life will be but a distant memory, and eternity will be more real than this life ever was, where our reward is waiting with Him.

I love how Francis Chan puts it in this short video:

Blessings and Peace,

It’s Time To Break Free

 

My prayer for us this year is that we would come to realize more and more the wholeness we have in Christ.

That we would submit ourselves to His loving grace and become the people we were meant to be in and through and by the Holy Spirit.  That we would let our old selves go, let His healing take place, and live in newness of life.  That we would put away all lies and live in the freedom of truth.  That we would shine with His love and grace and mercy in all we say and do.

We stay in the cocoon much too long for fear of what’s on the outside, when what’s on the outside all along is freedom!

So instead of wishing you a happy new year, because happiness is so fleeting and dependent on our circumstances, I pray for you a joyful new year.

That kind of joy that comes from deep within when our spirit meets His Spirit, and we break free of all encumbrances–all our own sin and fears and entanglements–to shine in the freedom and beauty that is ours in Christ.

Grace and peace,

The Best Things In Life Are Free

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moths and vermin destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moths and vermin do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” Matthew 6:19-21

They say the best things in life are free.  Yet every year the day after Thanksgiving (well, now you barely have time to eat your last bite of pumpkin pie) the stores open and people rush the gates like race horses at the Kentucky Derby.  Even now there are people everywhere still scrambling to find that last perfect present or two.

I wonder if we really do believe the best things in life are free.  All the frenzied waving of credit cards is really just a distraction, a way to make Christmas mean something when we fail to make it about Christ. And it’s hard to do that when He hasn’t been Lord the other 364 days a year.

Thanksgiving Day I was in the kitchen, as I am every Thanksgiving, going about the cooking I’ve now gotten down to a science, when I stole a moment to take a peek through our kitchen window which faces the front of our house.  The streets were lined with cars that had brought family and friends to spend Thanksgiving with so many neighbors.  It made me feel just a little bit lonely.

I love my family, my husband and our two sons whom we’re still blessed to have at home, but we have no extended family we’re able to spend the holidays with.

I didn’t have much of a family life growing up, so it was always my dream to have huge family gatherings at the holidays, the house full of laughing, eating, cooking, and a dozen different conversations going on a once, catching each other up on our lives, our victories and our defeats, encouraging and loving each other, so that when the day was done we’d be as full in our hearts as we were in our bellies.

A long time ago, though, I accepted the house would be a little less full and a little more quiet. That it would be just the four of us, and I’m happy with that.  Still, I couldn’t help but peer out the window a time or two (maybe three) more and caught a glimpse of all those cars in front of so many other houses.

Instead I’ve filled the holidays with one of the few talents I did have: mad baking skills.  I started baking when my kids were tiny and we didn’t have enough money for store-bought birthday cakes.  I started collecting cookbooks and practicing the art of cake making, frosting, and decorating.  I bought all kinds of frosting tips and every food coloring in the rainbow.  I practiced my royal icing roses. My mouth full of sweet teeth had me quickly expanding to almost any kind of cookie, pastry and dessert you can think of.

And when the holidays rolled around I’d have a field day.  I’d stock up on flour and sugar and butter and chocolate and peppermint candies.  I’d pore through my hundreds of recipes of Christmas cookies and delectable desserts and wonder which to bake first.  Wedding cookies or Chocolate Peppermint Pretzels?  And there are always cream cheese frostinged cinnamon rolls on Christmas morning.

But now I have health issues that make it almost impossible to enjoy eating sugar or any kind of carbohydrate. Oh I can eat it, I just have to be willing to face the consequences when I do.  My family is trying to eat healthier, too.  So every year I’ve baked less and less, and this year I haven’t done any.  Yet we are inundated with messages that for Christmas to be Christmas we should indulge in one sugar-laced treat after another.  But since I can’t it’s just one more thing that can make me feel like I’m somehow outside the party peering in.

There are other things, too, that getting older make celebrating Christmas the way I’d like very difficult or impossible.

Sometimes, when we’ve been stripped away of so much that the world says we must have and do to be happy, God is able to show us what’s most important.  To see what the best things in life really are.

No matter what gifts I’ve been given, the best by far will always be my salvation.  Ultimately, of course, I am forever indebted to Christ for dying for me, and to the Holy Spirit for pursuing me, opening my eyes, and revealing to me my need for a Savior. Regardless of what I am not able to have in this life, eternity will be filled with family and feasting.  Relationships will be restored and my body will be perfect.  This life is only temporary.  Eternity’s forever. And I’m looking forward to it!

I would not have that hope if it weren’t for the willingness of some to offer prayers and the honest teaching of God’s Word.  Those were gifts to me, gifts I could never afford.  Gifts that are free.

And now I, and many of you, are in the position to be able to offer those gifts to others.  No credit card needed.  Some may not open their gift of salvation right away, perhaps for years.  But even seeds are gifts.  Water is a gift.

So maybe it’s time to slow down and allow those things the world says we must have in order to have Christmas be stripped away.  Maybe it’s time to give a gift that would last for eternity.  Maybe you’re a seed-bearer, or a waterer.  Maybe you’re a harvester.

Wherever God would have you be in the process, give a gift of your gifts.  Your spiritual gifts have been given to you to not only encourage fellow believers, but to bring truth to unbelievers.  There is no better gift than the truth that leads to salvation.

One phrase that I hear over and over every Christmas season that’s become a pet peeve of mine, is when someone uses the word Christmas in place of the word gifts.  “She won’t be able to give her kids Christmas.”  “They won’t have a Christmas.”

Even the Grinch came to understand Christmas when he’d stripped the Whos of all he thought would make them happy, yet their joy on Christmas morning was undeterred and unrestrained.

“That’s a noise,” grinned the Grinch, “That I simply MUST hear!”
So he paused. And the Grinch put his hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising over the snow.
It started in low. Then it started to grow.
But the sound wasn’t sad! Why, this sound sounded merry!
It couldn’t be so! But it WAS merry! VERY!
He stared down at Whoville! The Grinch popped his eyes!
Then he shook! What he saw was a shocking surprise!
Every Who down in Whoville, the tall and the small,
Was singing! Without any presents at all!
He HADN’T stopped Christmas from coming! IT CAME!
Somehow or other, it came just the same!
And the Grinch, with his grinch-feet ice-cold in the snow,
Stood puzzling and puzzling: “How could it be so?”
“It came with out ribbons! It came without tags!”
“It came without packages, boxes or bags!”
And he puzzled three hours, till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before!
“Maybe Christmas,” he thought, “doesn’t come from a store.”
“Maybe Christmas…perhaps…means a little bit more!”

A little bit more indeed.  A lot more.  It means the birth of our precious Savior who came to give us the best gift of all.

So if you’re struggling this year, I hope you’ll take heart,
And know that the life we live here is only the start!
Christ was born in a stable for you and for me
And He died to give us eternity.
So wherever you are, whatever you do
Remember that Jesus, yes Jesus loves you!
He gave you salvation and that’s the key
To knowing the best thing in life is free.
So remember that Christmas doesn’t come from a mart
It comes when we let JESUS fill up our heart!
So store up for yourselves treasures in heaven
Give the gift of telling others how they can be forgiven!

Merry Christmas and God bless you!

Invisible Dogs

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind.” 2 Timothy 1:7

There was a period of time I had dreams that a wild pack of dogs was chasing me.  I never saw them, I just heard their snarling, vicious barking and my imagination ran away with thoughts of being torn limb from limb.  I’d be filled with fear and instinctively run for my life.

Night after night this nightmare invaded my dreams until one night when I heard the dogs right behind me and I thought what if I just stand here, turn around and face them?

So I did.

The barking stopped and the dogs were gone.

I never had that dream again. Later I had dreams about bears, but that’s a whole ‘nother story.

Because of a series of events throughout my life, fear is something I’ve always had to deal with.  Even when the initial event is over, that fear can linger like a pack of invisible dogs.  And I haven’t always stood my ground and stared that thing I’m afraid of in the face.  There are times I’ve run.

But the Lord’s shown me that if I keep running from the thing I’m afraid of, fear will always chase me.

We all have invisible dogs–those fears that chase after us–and for some inexplicable reason we automatically turn and run.  They don’t even have to be big things.  Sometimes we run from the little things just because we don’t want to be uncomfortable.

And running from those little things puts in motion deep inside us an undercurrent of fear that we may not even be aware is there.  And then when something big comes along, instead of being able to draw on a foundation of courage, we have none.

Trusting God to be with us in the little things grows our faith big enough to trust Him in the big things.

And there is something big God has entrusted to us.

It’s the reason Paul encourages Timothy (and us) to remember that God does not give a spirit of fear.

“Therefore I remind you to stir up the gift of God which is in you through the laying on of my hands. For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony of our Lord, nor of me His prisoner, but share with me in the sufferings for the gospel according to the power of God,  who has saved us and called us with a holy calling,”  2 Timothy 1:6

Above anything else, we can’t be afraid to use the spiritual gifts God’s given to each one of us for the good of the kingdom of God—to strengthen our brothers and sisters and to witness to those who are as of yet unsaved.

And sometimes that can be a little scary.  A little uncomfortable.

Paul suffered to share the message of the gospel with people who were dying in their sin.  But he so believed in that message—in Christ—that he was willing to risk being repeatedly imprisoned, flogged, starved, shipwrecked, in constant danger, and finally, beheaded.

I doubt any of us will ever face the trials Paul did, but we will serve Christ at a cost.  Like Paul, we are here on a mission.  We are called to share in the sufferings of Christ, to be a living sacrifice, bold and unashamed, living for His glory, not our comfort.

But oh, the gain.  The souls we’ll encourage, the lives we’ll save, the light we’ll shine, the glory we’ll reveal, the crowns we’ll receive and cast at the feet of our Lord.

If we’re willing to turn around and look fear in the face.

A lot of the time those fears will disappear when we turn to face them.  But if they don’t, if they charge us anyway, at the end of day, it won’t matter.

Paul has long forgotten his suffering.  But he will never forget the joy of serving alongside the King of kings, the glory that’s his in Christ, or the souls that are with him now, all because he was willing to use his gift.

Grace and peace,