Category: Trust

On Waiting

Posted on by Dorci

“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

Posted on by Dorci

“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,

Invisible Dogs

Posted on by Dorci

“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,

The Race is On

Posted on by Dorci

And crying with a loud voice, Jesus said, “Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit.” Luke 23:46 

Faith doesn’t come only when things are good – when the sun is shining, the bills are paid, and everyone loves us.  Who needs faith then?

But when the storms rage, the money jar is empty and the enemy knocks at the door, that is when we need faith.  That is when the exercise of our faith in God is most beautiful and He is most glorified. 

Christ is our example.  Rather than avoid it, He walked through the suffering, through the pain, through the rejection and spitting and scoffing and unbelief – even by His own friends.  Why?  Because He had faith in His Father, the Father who sent Him to the cross.  He kept faith that He had a plan and a purpose in His suffering. 

They would never know anything but how to reject, how to accuse, how to inflict pain unless He died.  Unless He offered forgiveness for their sins and they took it.  Only when their eyes were opened and their hearts were wiped clean of sin would they have the capacity for true love.  So He gave Himself so they could be forgiven and bring love into the world.

And they would go on to trust God through their own sufferings, to commit their spirits to their heavenly Father like their Savior did, so others could hear of Him, have their eyes opened and hearts wiped clean of sin.  So they could learn how to love like Jesus did, completely and unselfishly, and fill the world with it.

The torch has been passed to us, and we are called to do the same.

Grace and peace,

 

A Father’s Day We’ll Never Forget

Posted on by Dorci

And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” Matthew 28:20b

It was Sunday morning, Father’s Day.  I woke up with plans of hearing a good message at church, and then spending some precious family time together, grilling, maybe watching a movie.  Just relaxing.  But that day would soon be anything but relaxing. 

My husband was already up, and a minute or two after I’d gotten up he looked at me with a slight grin and told me our son hadn’t come home.  He’d left the night before, presumably to hang out with some friends.  One particular friend came to mind and I figured he’d gone there and just decided to stay the night.  He’d probably be home any minute. 

My husband began texting him, and we waited.  He texted again.  Still nothing. 

“Forget the texting.” I said, and I made a mad dash to my phone and started to punch in the number, but my husband was already calling.  He finally answered, and the side of the conversation I heard I didn’t like. 

“Where are you?” my husband said.

He suddenly had a confused look on his face. “What’s around you?”

Panic started to form a lump in my throat. 

A few more minutes of their back and forth and I couldn’t stand it anymore.  I pleaded to talk with him.  I asked him all the same questions.  “Where are you?  What do you mean you don’t know where you are?  Are you still driving?”

“Yes.”

We lost our phone connection.  I couldn’t imagine where he was or how he’d gotten there.  And the scariest thing was, neither could he. 

I finally got him on the phone again.  He thought he was on his way to a certain town.  That couldn’t be.  It was so far away.  He kept saying his face hurt.  His phone cut out again. 

We looked at each other and wondered out loud if he really could be on a road so far away from home.  And why did his face hurt? 

After another 20 minutes or so of 30-second conversations between being cut off, he said he was passing a sign with the name of the town he was entering.  Yes, he really had been headed in that direction, away from home. 

He said he was almost out of gas and we were sure his phone was ready to die.  He said he was pulling into a gas station to fill up.  I prayed with him and told him to stay there. We were coming to get him. 

He said he just wanted to get back on the road and come home.  His face hurt. 

I knew I’d have to call on my “mom voice” and demand that he stay put. 

“Are you on the road?” I said.

“Yes. I just want to come home.”

“Turn around and park and stay there!  We are on our way.”

The tone and decibel level of my voice told him I meant business.  He turned around and parked in a parking lot by a certain restaurant and that gave my husband just enough information to know where he was. 

We both ran around the house grabbing ice, water, ibuprofen.  I asked friends to be praying for us.  And in minutes we were in the car driving the almost two-hour trip out of town to get our son.  The trip was taking too long.  I had to remind myself to breathe. 

We finally got there, searched the parking lot for a minute and spotted his car.  All three of us hugged.  His face was scraped up and a corner of his tooth had been left on a sidewalk somewhere, but he was okay.  We took him to the emergency room around the corner to have him checked out.  His CT scan came back fine, but we figured he must have had a slight concussion. 

When we got back home my husband was able to map out his route with the few landmarks he could remember, which included a dirt road, cows and an Indian reservation. 

The worst part of looking at that map was knowing that in order for him to get where he was, he had to have taken the road we took–a road that for miles and miles wound around some mountains and had plenty of drop-offs.  Even when we showed him the route he must have taken, he still didn’t remember. 

It was nothing short of a miracle that he had made that three-hour drive.  Many miracles, in fact. A miracle he didn’t get into an accident.  A miracle he didn’t fall asleep. A miracle he didn’t run out of gas.  A miracle his phone didn’t die.  A miracle he didn’t drive off the side of a mountain.

His tooth was fixed and his face is healing well.  He had been goofing around with a friend, jumped on his back and they both fell onto the sidewalk. He apparently cushioned his friend’s blow. 

Course we had to ask him if he stopped along the way to go cow-tipping.  We got a bit of a grin out of him. 

My prayers for the next week or two consisted mainly of two words—“Thank you.”  I knew we’d been gifted with a great deal of grace that day.  The day wasn’t relaxing, we missed church and there was no movie.  But we had the best Father’s Day we could have.  We’d been given the gift of more time with our son.  So much better than any old tie. 

We don’t always have such a dramatic reminder of God’s constant presence, but He’s there just the same.  No matter where we go or what we do, He’s with us.  And even when we don’t know where we are, He does, and He’s there.

Always.