Picking Up Sticks

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Sometimes, I just don't know what to do next. 

I mean, the instruction book for life is pretty plain--worship God, repent, pray, hope, help others, look for heaven.

But sometimes, it's not enough.

I worship but God still seems far away. I repent but the list of my sins grows. I hope but it fades in the face of living. I help others but what I do rarely seems to have any lasting effect for either them or me. As for looking for heaven--well, I can barely manage earth.  Sometimes, it's just not working for me.

Then I realize that it doesn't matter.

It doesn't.
My disappointment, after all, is all about my feelings. I get dissatisfied because as much as I pray, as much as I hope, as much as I love God and understand what He's done both for me and the ones I love, there's still a huge gap between God's best and my reality.
A crevasse. A desert. A black hole. And it's not going away.

I can't create the heaven I want on the earth I'm given. And in the end, there's only one thing to do.
Pick up sticks.

That's right. Pick up sticks.
In those days, Elijah the prophet went to Zarephath. As he arrived at the entrance to the city, a widow was gathering sticks there; he called out to her, "Please bring me a small cupful of water to drink." She left to get it, and he called out after her, "Please bring along a bit of bread." She answered, "As the Lord your God lives, I have nothing baked; there is only a handful of flour in my jar and a little oil in my jug. Just now, I was collecting a couple of sticks to go in to prepare something for myself and my son. When we have eaten it, we shall die." 
--1Kings17
  
This woman knows she is dying. The country has lived through years of drought and she has no more food. She has enough left for one more meal for her and her son and along comes Elijah.

Elijah said to her, "Do not be afraid. Go and do as you propose. But first make a little cake and bring it to me. Then you can prepare something for yourself and your son." --1Kings 17

What? "Oh, by the way," he says, "You're dying anyway. You might as well give me some of your last meal. It won't make any difference in the end."
Thanks a lot, bud.

I can't imagine she was thrilled with what Elijah, who spoke for God, told her to do, and sometimes, neither am I. Giving him that little she had left was not going to solve anything.
But she does it.
She goes and gathers the sticks, builds the fire, bakes the bread, gives some to Elijah, and then something happens--
She left and did as Elijah had said. She was able to eat for a year, and he and her son as well; the jar of flour did not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry.--1Kings 17

She has enough. Just like that. Not enough just for that day or that week, but for a year. Enough until the drought ended, until her season of starvation was over.
That's what God does. He provides enough. When we finally come to the place where we have nothing left and know we're going to die without Him, He brings enough.

I wonder what would have happened if she didn't gather the wood, didn't make the fire, didn't bake the bread and share it with Elijah? I don't know for sure, but I suspect we wouldn't be reading about her today. She would likely have died, and her son, too. Starved for the lack of doing the one thing that was left for her to do. Because, when she did that, the only thing she could, God did the rest. God did what she could not.

And that's what I have to do.
What I can.
No matter how things look. No matter how I feel. 
Because that is when God shows up with flour and oil that never run out. 
That is where I find the cup that, in spite of circumstances, overflows.

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No matter what else is going on, no matter how hard or sad life gets, no matter how many things there are that I want to change and can't, there is always one thing left that I CAN do. And that is all God asks of me--to do what I can so that He can do what I can't. As long as there is one more thing for me to do, God is waiting for me to do it.

So, excuse me please. I'm needing God and I still have some sticks to pick up.

You Can't Change Anything From Inside the Limo

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Things change.
They do. Always. I can't do anything about that.
I don't always like it, though. Like when kids grow up and move away. Like when parents or friends or spouses die. Heck, I don't even like it when a favorite restaurant changes their menu or skirt lengths go short again.
But sometimes...sometimes I just know things HAVE to change. And, even worse, that I'm the one who's supposed to help change them.

I can't even imagine how Abraham Lincoln or Martin Luther King or Nelson Mandela felt. Yikes. They changed BIG things. My convicted changes aren't that big--not even close. But they're big to me. And, like those famous men, I have to figure out how to implement them. Whether it's school reform, or property taxes, or how my church runs their Sunday school, change sometimes calls me to work, and I am going to need a plan.

My first big experience with this came in business. I worked for a company top-heavy in wealth and privilege. The men and women who worked in our factory worked hard--really hard--and got none of the perks I saw handed out liberally to managers and executives--bonuses, both cash and non-cash. It wasn't right, I thought from my entry level office desk. If I ever got the chance to change that...well, I would.

Eventually, I got the chance.

When I got promoted to Vice President, I had big plans. I would shine a new light into the executive offices. I would make the changes I'd always seen needed making. But then, on my next business trip, the company paid for a limo to pick me up at 5AM and take me to the airport. Instead of sending it away and driving myself, I settled deep into the leather seats and napped. And a few months later, when I realized that the bonus I got that year would pay for my younger son's college education, I didn't cash the check and distribute it to those hard working men and women on the shop floor like I'd planned to do. Instead, I deposited into our savings account.

Were these things evil? Not really. But they serve to demonstrate something I learned the hard way then and in the long years that followed. Even after I'd stopped joining the excess and started fighting it, the big boys didn't care that I didn't want to play with them. It didn't matter to them at all, as long as I didn't interfere with their fun. And I didn't interfere, but not because I didn't want to. I didn't stop them from their greed because I didn't have the clout to do it. They couldn't care less what I thought or did. To them, my example was not eye opening--it was, maybe, faintly amusing. Finally, I did the only thing I could decently do. I gave up and got out.

This is what I learned: real change does not generally come from the inside.  Not unless the changer is also in charge. Kings can exert change. Sometimes very disciplined presidents and CEO's can. But not the rest of us. If we want to change something, we have to step out of it first. I saw this in business, but I also saw it in the school where I later taught and in the church we attended. There, too, we tried to enact change from the inside and found that it couldn't be done.

God knows this, too.
Example: Right after Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem to waving palm branches and cries of 'Hosanna', what did He do? He marched right over to the temple and chased out the money changers for the second time.
It is written--My house shall be called a house of prayer, but you have made it a den of thieves!--Matthew 21:13
And what happened?
The scribes and the chief priests heard it and sought out how they might destroy him.--Mark 11:18

Jesus didn't become a temple honcho first. He came in almost incognito--a young guy from a small town, but with wisdom and a mission He thoroughly understood. He could see clearly from the outside, whether from heaven or from Nazareth or from the back of a donkey, the kind of corruption so rarely visible from inside.

Obviously, I am prejudiced by my own experience. The hierarchy surrounding my own situations chewed me up and spit me out. Just like Jesus. Well, almost.

And that's my takeaway from all this. The people Christ criticized destroyed Him, or tried to. When they were finished with him, He was certainly very dead. But the same as He did, I rose up from each of my experiences remade, better than I'd begun. And amazingly, in the process, some of the things that needed changing did change. Not directly from what I did, but they did change, and some are still changing.

Just like Jesus, I left each of these situations an outcast, but not untouched, unchanged. And I learned to trust that God will use my actions in His own way. I also now know not to trust reformers with a stake in the status quo, but only those who have nothing to lose by changing it.
They have the vision. They follow the right example.

'Believe' is a Verb

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It all sounds so simple.
Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ and be saved...--Acts 16:31
All I have to do is to believe, to have faith in Christ and His saving work on the cross. I have to do nothing, bring nothing of myself to the party. I'm in.

Oh, but then, there's this:
Faith without works is dead.--James 2:26
Did I misunderstand? Maybe not.
Work out your salvation with fear and trembling.--Philippians 2:12
No, I didn't misunderstand. I need faith. I need to believe, and I need to do something about it. I need to work my faith out.

Is there anything else? Well, it turns out there is.
...this water symbolizes baptism that now saves you also--not the removal of dirt from the body, but the pledge of a clear conscience toward God--1 Peter 3:21
and this--
Whoever believes and is baptized will be saved...--Mark 16:16

OK.
So, I am to believe, and work, and be baptized.
Anything else?
Yes.

I need to endure.
He who endures to the end will be saved.--Matthew 24:13
Whoever endures to the end will be saved--Matthew 10:22

Believe. Work. Be Baptized. Endure.
Well, which one is it?

Why does it have to be just one?
Why is the instruction to be baptized more important that the others? Or the requirement to believe? Can't they all go together? Don't they have to? And more importantly, why do we beat each other up about this? Is it really that important for us to be right so that we can make everyone else wrong?

You see, I think that the  Bible is very deep. It's full of rich meaning and we could spend a lifetime unpeeling its layers of revelation, but it's also very simple. God never stutters. The simple answer is not to figure out which of these requirements for salvation apply, but to take them at face value, all of them, the plain way that God says them.

'Believe' is a verb, not just a mental exercise. Believing is not diminished by doing something about our belief.

Imagine a tightrope walker about to cross Niagra Falls. He asks the crowd, "Do you believe I can make it?" "We believe!" they answer and so he sets out. An hour later, he reaches the other side. Then he asks them, "Do you believe I can cross blindfolded?" "We believe!" they answer again. And again, he crosses successfully. The third time he asks the crowd, "Do you believe I can cross with a man on my back?" Again they answer, "We believe!" That's when he asks for a volunteer. The one not willing to go, of course, is the one who does not believe.
Belief and action go together. One is not better than the other. They all exist together. They have to. 

Grammar. Semantics. We spend way too much time, as Christians, differentiating between ourselves, pointing fingers, so sure that we are right and the folks across the street are wrong. Christ died for us all. The least we can do is to show Him that we were worth it.

Belief lives not only in our brain or our emotions. It has arms and legs. It moves and testifies. It not only changes us. It helps change the world.

What is the Gospel?

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Our faith tells us that we are taught to preach the Gospel, but I have often wondered exactly what that Gospel is. Its direct translation from Greek put simply means the Good News. OK, but what good news?

From a personal standpoint, I know well the good news Christ brought to my own life--the renewal, the hope, the transformation, and the strength. But how did He do this? Well, through His suffering, death, resurrection, you say. That's right. He has done all this through His Holy Redemption.

But that's not quite it. I think there's more.

I know what Christ did--born of a virgin; lived and taught the New Covenant principles of love, humility, and sacrifice; performed miracles; died an undeserved and public death, then rose first from it and then from the earth itself. But the key to all this isn't His activity, it's Him.  

Everything Christ did only mattered because He did it. Other people performed miracles. Other people have died, then come alive again. Other people have died sacrificially for someone else. Other people live exemplary lives. But they do not carry the same weight.  Christ does not call us to preach what He did, but the One who did it--the Son of God, Son of Man, Creator-Redeemer, Jesus Christ. The Gospel, the Good News, is not what Christ did because, had anyone else done it, it would be no news at all.

Christ didn't enact the Gospel. He is the Gospel.

So, this is how I preach--deferring attention from the act to Him, lifting Him up. I know we all love to tell our stories of redemption, and we should. Believe me, I do too, but my story doesn't begin to come close to explaining the miracle and wonder of God. Nobody's does. My story, I think, is mostly for me--to remind me who God is--how intimate and mighty and, well, involved.  It helps me stay on the road toward Him.

So how do I preach? Well, if the Gospel is not what He did, then it's not what I do either. If the Gospel is who He is, then as I am called to follow Him and resemble Him, the Gospel is me. Myself. My very person. If you are saying, 'Whoa, there--we are not like God,' well then, I say that if we are not like God, if people can't see God in us, we are not equipped to preach. If people cannot see God in us, then we have no real knowledge of the Gospel at all. 

My very presence should say, 'Here He is, friend--Jesus Christ--Savior, Redeemer, Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God. He's in me and in you, too.' My life should make people long for God. I have to live the new life Christ has put in me, living primarily before the Lord, but all the while in the company of everyone He has put in my path. I can live so that when people see me, they see Christ. I can do this because God says I can.

Is this hard? Of course it is. At least until it becomes very, very easy. In the end, I don't have the responsibility for anyone else's salvation. I just have to look out for Christ as He shows the way. And that is very Good News, indeed.

For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you but Jesus Christ and Him crucified--1Corinthians 2:2
To them God has chosen to make known among the Gentiles the glorious riches of this mystery, Christ in you, the hope of glory.--Colossians 1:27

This Very Day

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I keep forgetting that I can live my life in only one way--one day at a time.
God knows this, but I often don't.
Sure, I know all the repetitive tasks that need to be done every day--making beds, dishes, going to work, caring for children, preparing meals--as well as the ones I sneak in from my to-do list--clean the hall closet, take a meal to Mary. But one thing never appears on my list: consecrate my life to God.
I need to intentionally give my life to Christ the same way I carefully plan everything else--every day.

I don't decide to follow Christ once for all. I do it every day, every hour, with every breath. 
I know this is true whenever I open my mouth and decide to lie or speak an unkind word. I decided for myself in that moment, not for God.
I know this is true whenever I raise my hand for a third piece of cake or to push away annoyance or embrace frustration. I decided for myself, not for God.

God intends for us to live like this--to be constantly aware of the need to choose Him with every thought, every action, every word.
I have to live every day aware that I live it before the Lord.

Decide this day who you will serve--Joshua 24:15

This day is important to God. I looked it up. My concordance has nearly 1500 instances where it uses the word 'day', and many of them have numbers. They're all over the place.

At dawn the first day of the week--Matthew 28:1
On the first day, hold a sacred assembly--Exodus 12:16 
The second day of the month he did not eat--1Samuel 20:34
On the third day, He will rise again--Luke 18:33
On the fourth day, they assembled in the valley--2Chronicles 20:26
On the fifth day, prepare nine  bulls--Numbers 29:26
On the sixth day, they gathered twice as much--Exodus 16:22
On the seventh day, hold a festival--Exodus 13:6
The seventh day will be your holy day--Exodus 35:2
On the eighth day, when it was time--Luke 2:21
The evening of the ninth day of the month--Leviticus 23:32
On the tenth day of the seventh month--Leviticus 23:27
On the twelfth day of the first month, we set out--Ezra 8:31
On a single day, the thirteenth day--Esther 3:13
On the fourteenth day of the first month--Leviticus 23:5
On the fifteenth day of that month--Leviticus 23:6
On the seventeenth day of the second month--Exodus 16:1
On the twentieth day of the second month--Numbers 10:1
On the twenty-fourth day of the first month--Daniel 10:4
On the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth month--2Kings 25:27
The day after Passover, that very day--Joshua 5:11
By this time the day after tomorrow--1Samuel 20:5
I will raise him up on the last day--John 6:40

The Bible is a book of single days--not all of them rolled up together and put before us as eternity, but individual days, written one at a time, exactly as we live them. Its stories have not happened in a hazy, non-specific past, but with detailed what, who, where, and when, just like ours.

I did not know this morning when I got up whether this day would be significant in the story of my life or whether my choices would be life-altering for somebody else. But I do know where the day came from--
 This is the day the Lord has made--Psalm 118:26
 and what I am supposed to do with it.
Teach us to number our days--Psalm 90:12

This is the day I am to use my free will to choose Christ.
This is the day I am to consecrate to God.
This is the day I decide to be holy, one act, one word, one thought at a time.

This day. This day. This very day.

Stuck Between Awful and Awesome

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I didn't know this would be the hard part.

It looked so straightforward at first.
I was a sinner. That was plain. The list of my ungodly behaviors was long and shameful. But God is good. He showed my sins to me one by one, as gently as was possible, and guided me out of the dark place where I lived with them. And I learned to leave them behind, step by painful step, and the horizon cleared. I learned how to live in God's light, for the most part within His commands. I changed. A lot.

And God said it was good.

So, here I am. A new person. Walking in a new light, a new life. I look around and relax into it, nodding my head in agreement with what God has done in me, saying "Yeah. Thanks, God. I'm liking this."
I go to church every week.
I'm kind to children and animals and even cranky neighbors.
I mind, for the most part, my words and thoughts.
I help the people God brings into my world.
I concentrate hard on being a good wife and mother.
I try to work to God's glory.
I've found a rhythm to this life. It's become familiar. What I used to be and do is slowing fading into a shadowy past and this version of me has become my new, redeemed normal. 

And that's the problem. It's normal.
My new life is normal and God isn't. God is awesome. He's thrilling, exciting, beyond imagination surprising.
But if something doesn't change soon, I'm going to be stuck here. Rescued from the awful, but not reaching the awesome.

This is what nobody told me when I started on this way--
God doesn't want us to look like redeemed humans.
He wants us to look like Him.

And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into His likeness with ever-increasing glory--2 Corinthians 3:18

Darn. That's hard.
Harder than following commandments. Harder than changing behaviors. Harder than stopping habits and thought patterns.
God doesn't just want me to be the best I can be. He wants me to be like Him.
And, just for the record, I am not at all like God.

And yet.....and yet. I've nowhere else to go. It's either go back to the old me--no longer a viable alternative at this point--or it's more of the same--which is bogging me down--or it's this next thing, this glory, this transformation into something that's not only not me--it's not even human.

Not even human. That's the reason it sounds and feels so strange. God wants me to become more than I've ever seen in me or anyone else. I can never be God. I can never share all of his power or might or perfection, but He does want me to become god-like. He wants me to share His glory.

He created me to be like Him.
And God made man in his own image--Genesis 1:27
He says I can be holy.
Be ye holy as I am holy--Leviticus 19:2
He says that, as His beloved child, I am one with Him.
You are gods--you are all sons of the Most High--Psalm 82:6
He says he can make me perfect.
Be ye therefore perfect, even as your heavenly Father.--Matthew 5:48, Nehemiah 2:48

If I am ever to get unstuck, this is where I have to go.
Up. More.
He must become greater, I must become less.--John 3:30
I have to aim for what looks impossible.
I have to go to a place I can never, never reach on my own. 
And maybe that's the point.
The further I go, the more I need His help. Until, finally, we get so close that we are never apart. So close as to be almost indistinguishable.
Yes. I would like that.

No Wonder It Hurts

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The burden of life is impossible.
Always.
Every day.

Sometimes we know it.
We know it when we are losing our job and the baby is teething and it's fifteen degrees below zero and the babysitter cancels and the hot water heater breaks and the car won't start and our best friend's husband is leaving her.

And, although when things are going relatively well, we quickly forget, life is still impossible then, too.
There's a lot more that we can't control than we can.

We can't control our bodies. Our physical systems depend heavily on one another in ways we never see.
We can't control our relationships. The people we love do what they will without our permission.
We can't control our surroundings. Our comfort depends on complex agencies and services like transportation, power, and waste treatment over which we have no say or most of the time, any awareness at all.
We can't control our safety. Our security depends on men and women who guard us both locally and internationally whom we never even see unless something goes wrong.
These kinds of things fail so rarely that we have no idea what it is like to be truly alone, truly hungry, truly without resources, and we never will.
We kid ourselves about this every day.
When the house is clean and my family is content, and the bills are paid, and the snow shoveled, and the laundry done, and the boss is happy, I think I've done well. I am capable. I have used my intelligence and skill profitably. And I have, as far as they go.

But I have forgotten what I cannot accomplish.
I can't make my heart beat.
I can't stop a random bomber.
I can't deter the lethal work of a drunk driver.
I can't stop my friend from cheating on her husband.
I can't even guarantee that my groceries are free from taint or poison.
All these are completely beyond my control.

I keep forgetting that I do not bear up the world. 
In fact, I must fail to do so.
I must learn that if I fall, the world will not, and fall I must if I am to come to understand even a part of God's power and love.
Yes, I am desolate when life spins out of my control, but that is when the clarity of my place in the world comes most vividly.
And  good thing, too.
God holds the world in His hands. I cannot hold the world. I can only hold God. 

For the Lord is a great God, and a great king above all gods. In His hands are the corners of the world and the strength of the hills is His also. The sea is His and He made it and His hands prepared the dry land. O come, let us worship and fall down and kneel before the Lord our Maker. For He is the Lord our God. We are the people of His pasture and the sheep of His hand.--Psalm 95: 3-7

Believing It Will Rain

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Noah. Almost everybody knows his story.
God told him to build a boat and, in it, put all the animals two by two because He planned to flood the earth. And Noah did.
It wasn't an easy job, though. The boat had to be one and a half football fields long. It took Noah 100 years to finish the job. His neighbors made fun of him, of course, but he remained faithful to the task.
I always thought Noah was an example of perseverance, but I was wrong.
Noah is an example of faith.

By faith, Noah, being warned by God concerning events as yet unseen, took heed and constructed an ark for the saving of his household; by this he condemned the world and became an heir of the righteousness which comes by faith.--Hebrews 11:7

Remember, faith is believing in what we have never seen. So what was Noah's leap of faith?
He had never seen rain.
In his experience, water had never fallen from the sky.
Now, that gives the whole boat building thing a new twist. How could he explain to anyone--his wife, his kids, everyone he knew--what he was doing? There was no way. It would make more practical sense for me to build a rocket ship in my backyard. At least I'd be able to point to the sky and the stars and say, "See? I'm going there!"  Not Noah.

So that begs the question, if Noah is an example of faith, what is my ark? Where is my promise of rain?
That is easier.
A God I can't see. A heaven I can't touch. An inner knowledge I can't explain.
My ark. My rain. My faith.

Why Do They Get all the Good Miracles?

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A pastor in Libya is rescued from a firing squad.
A child in Zambia is healed overnight from tuberculosis.
Christ appears to a man in an Egyptian jail who comes to believe.
BUT
Here, my sweet, believing friend dies from cancer.
Here, my father dies before acknowledging the truth of the gospel.

WHY?
Why do they get the miracles and we don't?

Hm... maybe because we don't need them in the same way.

After all, God gave us, here in the U.S., different stuff.
We have relative safety.
We have abundant wealth.
We have good health care.

The people in Libya and Zambia and Egypt don't. They have active war, and famine, and poverty, and rampant disease. I don't know why, but it's true.
So when they look for God, where do they find Him? In the places they need Him most.
And He shows up there.

And how about us? Where do we need God most?
It's not in the same places.
My friend who died got excellent medical care because God made that possible. And she didn't die in a fly-blown grass hut, alone and in excruciating pain. She died in a nursing home surrounded by caring nurses and loving family.
My father did not grow up in a Muslim nation that executed Christians, but in a place where the truth of Christ poured out all around him from nearly every member of his family, and by which he was consequently well-loved his whole adult life.
My friend and my father did not need the same kind of miracles.
And they didn't get them.

So where do our miracles come? 
Where do we most need God to intervene?

Consider the lilies, how they grow; they neither toil nor spin, yet I tell you even Solomon in all his glory was not clothed like one of these. Do not seek what you are to eat and what you are to drink, or be of anxious mind. For all the nations of the world seek these things; and your Father knows that you need them. Fear not, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom.--Luke 12: 27, 29, 32

God gives us what we do not already have because there we will be most likely to see Him and His kingdom.
Only when we come to the end of our own resources will God make a miracle.
He has already given us gifts and expects us to use them.

Looking for a miracle?
Look to that place where gifts end, where strength fails.
Look to that place where only hope remains.
There is the stage set for a miracle.

Walking on What Remains

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I'm old enough now to know that I will not do everything I planned to do. 

But I am not alone in this. It happened to King David, too.
He was coming to the end of his life and he hadn't built a temple to God, a place to worship, a place for Israel to meet the magnificent King of Heaven who had kept David company all of his life.
And he would never do it. God denied it to him because, although he was a man after God's own heart, he was also a man whose life had covered his hands in blood, too much blood to make them suitable for the job he so wanted to do.
And David, like the rest of us, did not get life do-overs. 

But this is his lesson and mine--we are not always given the work we expect, but we are always given work under God.
For David, the temple preparation became his work, and he set to it with all his might.
And so it is with me, and maybe with you, too.
There are some things not permitted me because of some of the sinful paths I've chosen. However, not all ways are sealed. Some remain.

Though much is taken, much abides.
And though we are not now that strength which in old days moved earth and heaven,
that which we are, we are...*

Although we are often unfaithful, God is not.
With age, our life's stage shrinks, but until we die, it does not disappear.
My stage is no longer as broad as it once was, but I can still walk on what remains.
God still gives life in generous handfuls, and means for me, for all of us, to live it.
And, when the end does come, that living will allow me to echo David's joy:
I can sing this song every day without exception. No day lacks the beauty of God. My time will never run out. It is in Your hands.--Psalm 104: 23,24,31,3,34

*Tennyson, "Ulysses"

Taking the 'Crazy' out of Busy

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I couldn't say it better than Francis de Sales:

Flies harass us more by their numbers than by their sting. Similarly, great matters disturb us less than a multitude of small affairs. Accept the duties which are entrusted to you quietly, and try to fulfill them methodically, one after another. If you attempt to do everything at once, or with confusion, you will not only burden yourself with your own exertions, and by entangling your mind, you will probably be overwhelmed and accomplish nothing.

In all your affairs, rely on God's Providence, through which alone your plans can succeed. Meanwhile, on your part, work on in quiet cooperation with God, and then rest satisfied that, if you have entrusted your work entirely to God, you will always obtain that measure of success which is best for you, whether it seems so or not in your own judgement.

...When your own work or business is not particularly engrossing, let your heart be fixed more on God than on it; and if the work be such as to require your undivided attention, then pause from time to time and look to God, even as navigators do who set their course for the harbor by looking up at the heavens rather than down at the deeps on which they sail. Doing this, you will see that God will work with you, and for you, and your work will be blessed.

What one task can you begin to intentionally share with God? Mine is dishwashing.
Thanks, Francis.

St. Francis de Sales, Introduction to the Devout Life

The 'Rest' of Faith

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God does not take a break. 
He works all the time.
We are not like that. 
We need to rest.
But there is more than one kind of rest.
First, there is the rest we take when our work is done:
By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day, He rested from all His work.--Genesis 2:2

So, I nap on Sunday afternoon, right?
Maybe, but there is more.
The real rest God has for us is not just the break we take after digging a ditch or cooking a meal or building a house.
Our best work before God has less to do with our muscles than with our head and heart.
The real work God wants from us is to believe, and His rest is His reward.
 
"They are a people whose hearts go astray,
and they have not known my ways."
So I declared an oath in my anger,
"They shall never enter my rest."--Psalm 95:10-11

His rest is not a nap. His rest is the peace and luxury of His presence.
Like in this instance, when He denied the promised land to doubters and complainers, those of us who do not believe, who do not worship, will miss it.

God instructed the Israelites to rest on the first day of the week, so they made up a bunch of rules about walking and cooking, and that may still be necessary for workaholics. But He really wants us to have soft hearts before Him. That brings real rest.

So what are we to do on the seventh day?
We are to remember God, honor His ways, and worship Him, just like every day. But, because we have put aside our customary physical activities, we can pay special attention to Him while we do it.
Our Sunday activities are not defined by the kind of work we do as much as the One for Whom we do it. Our Sabbath is celebrated by special effort of belief, whatever that looks like.
How do I know this? Jesus said so:
The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath.--Mark 2:27

What Not to Wear

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Pull yourself up by your bootstraps!
Carry your own weight!
Don't be such a wimp!

Funny--God doesn't say that:
Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.--Matthew 11:29
My presence will go with you, and I will give you rest.--Exodus 33:14
Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed, for I am your God, and I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand.--Isaiah 41:10

Strength before God looks different from strength before men.

There are three kinds of weights in the life--.
1.   The burden of our repented sin, which Christ has removed forever.
      This is not our burden, not any more. Not since Calvary.

2.   The burden Christ gives us, which He means to share.
      We only have to pick up one end of whatever He brings. He will take the other.
3.  And the burden of unrepented sin.
      If we choose to carry this one, we do it by ourselves. (But, for the good news, see #1)

Everybody has burdens. Life brings them. God allows them, and sometimes, He assigns them.
And, if they come from Him, none of them are mistakes. None of them are too much.
It doesn't matter how they feel.
If we let our God speak to our hearts, if we admit our sins and let Him remove their guilt, only the path of life remains. And God has already guaranteed the end, however rocky the path.
Put down what you can and let Christ, your yokefellow, carry what is His.
Then heave up your end, take one step at a time, and leave the rest behind. 
Christ walks beside you--your untiring companion of infinite strength and mercy.

Photo credit:mercyhouse.org

When More is Less

Life is not random.
I'm just coming off two and a half weeks of flu and, whenever something hits that hard, I wonder why.
And that it should come now, at the beginning of a new year, at precisely the time when I'm setting goals and gearing up, well...I wonder doubly.
It is only now, as the illness begins to release its hold, that I start to get a glimpse.

For the first time in long memory, my whole life had to stop.
I was too sick to do anything, go anywhere, even talk to anyone.
I didn't clean, or shop, or cook, or go to the gym.
I didn't write.

I sat. I stared. If I felt halfway decent, I read a book.
And I thought.
Why?

Now, at nearly the end  of it, I think I know.
For the last years, I have told God I wanted more.
More of His intended life, more from my life in the body of Christ, more of Him.
And, to that end, I have picked up and put down goals and activities.
I have read and studied.
I have kept my eyes open and attentive.
I have prayed.

But I missed what was happening.
I didn't see the cage begin to turn, to pick up speed, to whir and rush.
I didn't see that I was in it.

Carried in a flood of sacrificial activity. Lost in the constant whoosh of wind.

Then it stopped. It had to. I had no choice.
I said no. And no again. And again.
Until nothing was left.
And I found it.
I found His hand.
Reaching from the emptied place.
Where He'd always waited.
And it was full of the more.

Thank you, God, for the flu.
For it is: Do ,and do, do and do, rule on rule, rule on rule, a little here, a little there...God will speak to His people, but they would not listen.  Isaiah 28:10-12

Be still and know that I am God.--Psalm 46:10

And I'm not the only one whose new year has brought this lesson.
See Sandra Heska King's How Clutter Makes Us Fat

Is It Time Yet?

I always got a kick out of our first glimpse of the adult Jesus at a party with his mother. When she asks Him to do something, He tells her He doesn't think it's a good idea.  Sounds like conversations I've had with my own thirty-something son:
"Not now, Mom."
"Really? Now?"
Sounds a bit like what Jesus said to his own mother:
Dear woman, why do you involve me? My time has not yet come.--John 2:4
At least He called her 'dear woman.'
But, aside from the common familiar comedy of it, the situation reminds me of something important.
Even in the kingdom of God, there are times for things.

Jesus knew this at the above wedding, when He told His mom that it was not yet time for Him to be acclaimed for public miracles.
He knew this later, when His friends went to Jerusalem for the festival, but He did not:
Therefore Jesus told them, “My time is not yet here; for you any time will do.--John 7:6
He also knew when His time had finally come:
Jesus replied, "The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified."--John 12:23

And He also knew when the time had not only come, but was over:
 “It is finished.”--John 19:30

It is the same for us.
There are times for things.
To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven: a time to be born, and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to reap, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to break down and a time to build up, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance...--Ecclesiastes 3:1-4

It's true.
Once a life situation begins, it will probably end.
Once we pick something up, we will probably have to put it down.
Once we take someone into our life, we will probably have to let them go.

Not worship, love, or my battle with sin, of course. Those will continue all my life.
But the others? They will all, at some time, end.
And it's OK.
Their time has either not yet come, or is over.
Really.

What We Should Be

A while back, the US Army ran an ad campaign that urged potential soldiers to "Be all You Can Be."
Good advice, I thought.  And not just for soldiers, but for anyone.
But maybe I was wrong.  At least some of the time.

After all, Jesus wasn't.
Christ Jesus, being in very nature God, did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself nothing, taking the very nature of a servant, being made in human likeness. And being found in appearance as a man, He humbled Himself and became obedient to death–even death on a cross!--Philippians 2:6-8

When He became a man, Jesus was not all He could be.
He is God.  He reached His potential when He created the world, when He defeated Satan, and will do so again when He comes back to finally reclaim this world.
As a man, Jesus was clearly underachieving.

So, in following Jesus' example, are we ever to do the same?
Maybe.
Why did Jesus do it, anyway?
...the world must learn that I love the Father and that I do exactly what my Father has commanded me.--John 14:31

And if that meant to lay aside His Godhead and become a man, so be it.
What does that look like for us?
If I love God and He wants me to teach someone how to fish rather than do the fishing myself, I must.
If I love God and He wants me to lay aside my leadership or capability in favor of a husband or an employer, I must.
If I love God and He wants me to let someone fail rather than bail them out, I must.

God gave us all gifts, but we are to exercise them only as God commands.
I not only have to consider what I can do, but must stop to think whether I should.
Perhaps the right slogan should not read "Be All You Can Be" but "Be What the God You Love Wants You to Be."

Banging on the Door

God wants to meet me alone in the dark.
He wants me to go into a quiet place, to shut the door, and to concentrate on Him alone.
No distractions, no interruptions.

When you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen.  Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.--Matthew 6:6

And then He sends me life.
A thousand details.
Every day.
Like toddlers banging on the bathroom door they come, crying, "Me, me, me..."

Make beds.  Do dishes. Change diapers. Check off lists. Make appointments. Drive someone to practice. Return phone calls. Kiss an owie. Pack a lunch. Dust.

And He sends all this stuff on purpose.
He does it to teach me to love Him.

He knows that love is born in details.
When I do something big, something significant for God, I learn to love the act, not Him, or love the result or, worse yet, myself.
"Thank you for this opportunity to serve you, God and, by the way, look at the cool thing I did. Didn't I do a good job?"
On the other hand, a temporarily dry bottom or the top of a refrigerator finally wiped clean or a prayer said on the way to the grocery never inspires such obvious congratulation.

In small works of devotion, the ones invisible to all but God Himself, we encounter Him alone.
He sent me these responsibilities.  He put them in my path.  They come from Him as gifts for communion.
And they make me more like Him.

Small, insignificant tasks become, if I let them, the prayers I say without ceasing.
Whatever you do, whether word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to the Father through Him.--Colossians 3:17

What the Marys Know

In the Bible we meet only one Martha, but three Marys--accident?  I think not.

Most of us can identify with Martha of Bethany at one time or another--hardworking, efficient, aware of others' needs, skilled, a doer of things that need doing and thus always busy and, oh yes, complaining.

The Marys, all of them--Mary Magdalen, Mary of Bethany, and the virgin mother of Christ--were lovers.  All of them.  They had "the better part."

We know we are supposed to be more like Mary but somehow we just, well, can't.  
Why not?

Because Martha is just so NECESSARY.
Dishes need doing.
Babies need feeding.
Lawns need mowing.
Who is going to do it all if all we do is hang out with God and love Him all the time?

I've decided that even Mary can mow the lawn.
What separated these Marys from Martha was not what they did, it was their attitude.

A Martha knows her Bible verses.  She goes to church.  She attends Bible studies. She helps folks in need.  She cleans the church and bakes pies for socials.
Martha marches to God's cadence.  And God loves her for it.

But Mary allows herself to be drawn into His arms and loses herself there--not forever, not so the beds never get made, but for the sheer joy of these times of communion.
She does not give up one for the sake of the other.  She has found her beloved and intends to enjoy Him.

They hurried off and found Mary and Joseph and the baby, who was lying in the manger.  When they had seen Him, they spread the word concerning what had been told them about this child, and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds said to them.  But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart.--Luke 2:16-19

Don't let the tenderness of moments with Christ escape you. 
As Marthas, we only begin our life with Christ. 
As Marys, we find its depth.

All the Wrong Places

Of all the things we are supposed to know how to do as Christians, the most basic is to love.  We are supposed to know how to love.

Oh, yeah?  Try it sometime.

What is loving, anyway?
Love does not harm to its neighbor...--Romans 13:10
Love is patient, love is kind...1Corinthians 13:4
Greater love has no one than this: that he lay down his life for his friends.--John 15:13

So we are to care about other people more than ourselves.  
Is that love? Really?
If so, any atheist could love.

No, love must be something more.
Dear friends, let us love one another, for love comes from God. Everyone who loves has been born of God and knows God.--1John 4:7
Anyone who loves his father or mother more than me is not worthy of me...--Matthew 10:37
You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and all your soul and all your mind. This is the first and great commandment...--Matthew 22:37

Love comes from God, so we have to love God first to love at all.


So, what does that look like?
It looks like this:
Love does not see the task first.  Love sees God first.
Love does not see the person first.  Love sees God first.


When the phone rings, we do not hear the phone first, or even the person on it, we hear God first.
When a child reaches up, saying "Mommy..."  we do not see primarily her sweet tears, but God.
When we pull out our wallet to buy something, we don't lead with desire for the thing, but for God.
When someone offers a mission trip, we do not see the  legions of unbelievers, we see God.
When we hear sermon, we do not listen for the pastor, but for God.
When we pick up a husband's socks for the hundredth time, we don't see the socks, we see God.

The small decisions and the big ones, they are all God's, for His glory, in His name.  Where we live, how we furnish our home or choose our friends, or spend our time.  All God's, for His sake.  No exceptions.

Does that mean we have no fun?  Absolutely not.
But God's highest will for us is to derive our primary pleasure from Him.

It means we lead with the Song of Solomon, not with the Ten Commandments.
We live with the Magnificat in our hearts.
My soul does glorify the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior...--Luke 2:46-47
How beautiful you are, Oh my darling!  How beautiful!--Song of Solomon 1:15

This is love.
From God.  Of God. For God. Back to God.
Once we know that, the rest will come.

Stop, Already!

God gave us minds to think, but we are so dumb sometimes.  We have always been that way.

The carpenter cuts down cedars...half the wood he burns in the fire...he warms himself and says, "Ah, I am warm;" from the rest he makes a god, his idol; he bows down to it and worships.  He prays to it and says, "Save me, you are my god."...No one stops to think.--Isaiah 44:14-19

No one stops to think.
No one stops.

Go, go go.  Round and round.  Motion is work.  Be not a sluggard.  Keep going.  Don't give up doing good.

Good grief.  Stop already.  Think.

We fashion our gods from our own hands.  We fail to see the wooden gods we have made.
He feeds on ashes, a deluded heart misleads him.  He cannot save himself or say, "Is not this thing in my right hand a lie?"--Isaiah 44:20

We hold our gods in our right hand, bowing to them, reverencing how they make us feel: useful, effective, efficient.  It doesn't work that way. What do we call them?
Our job.
Our to-do list.
Our church activities.
Our blog.
Our club.
Our vacation.
Our recreation.
Our quiet time.
Anything.  Absolutely anything, even an immovable and inviolable prayer time, can be turned to serve a purpose that is not God's.

God wants only one thing from us:
Remember these things, O Jacob, for you are my servant, O Israel...Return to me, for I have redeemed you.--Isaiah 44:21,22

You are my servant.  Return to me.
How can we ignore Him?
Our idols lie dead in our palm but He lives, vibrant and expectant, waiting to share power and glory.
Stop spinning and look up.  How can we say 'No'?