In Everything

"Be anxious for nothing, but
in everything, by prayer and supplication
with thanksgiving, make your requests

known to God." - Philippians 4

The above verse came to my mind today as I reviewed my Facebook news feed. So many people are so freaked out over this coronavirus "COVID-19" even though our little province has had only 27 cases, all travel-related, and all recovered with NO hospitalizations. Be that as it may, I am not one to deny the potential dangers of the virus, nor am I one to pooh-pooh medical directives to wear masks and keep washing my hands and avoid touching my face. 

What I am most concerned with, however, is the tendency of people to say that they trust in God and yet they continue to obsess about what others are doing to endanger their own health (by political decisions to allow snowbirds who have properties here into the province, or to allow more than 5 people at a time to get together, for example).

That's when I think of Philippians 4 - and meditate on what that means for me. I see a number of things that I can apply to this very situation.

First, don't worry.  Worry only robs you of the moment, of enjoying the present. It does nothing to change the situation. Worry is actually bad for folks because it raises hormone levels that cause people to gain weight and to be more depressed and anxious. Besides, the actions of others are out of my control; I can only control what I do, not what others do. So it is fruitless to worry.

Second, pray in everything. Not just about everything, but IN everything - in the midst of the problem, bring it to God. Bring your anxiety, bring the whole situation, and how you feel about it, to God.

Free image by geralt at Pixabay.com

Third, and perhaps most important, pray with asking AND thanksgiving. "Supplication" is just a fancy way to say asking or requesting. But this requesting is not the oh-please-please-please kind, the kind that has very little trust in the goodness of God. It isn't like someone making a petition to their boss or to their premier. Rather, it is the act of a child asking something from a loving father. It trusts in the Father's love, in His character, in His goodness. It's the kind that says, "I ask You for this and I trust You that You will do what is best, so I thank You for whatever You decide to do." It is the prayer that leaves the outcome to God's loving care, and lets go of the desire to influence how things turn out.  It is the prayer of faith, not in the outcome, but in God Himself.

No other kind of prayer will calm the spirit. I know, because I have seen the kind of prayer that doesn't thank God for His decision. I remember as a child seeing my mom praying on her knees, crying and worrying on her knees, for a loved one. And when she got up from her knees she would still worry and fret, and be torn up, about the situation or the person she just prayed for. It did her no good and it did that person no good either. I know that, because the person she was praying for was me. All her prayers did was make me feel shame. I saw no faith there. I only saw a pitiful person worrying on her knees. It disgusted me. It made me not want to have anything to do with a God who couldn't be trusted to look after her OR me. (Of course, later, I came to understand that this wasn't what God was like. But it wasn't my mom who taught me that.)

Prayer IN everything WITH thanksgiving liberates the person who prays. It removes the responsibility for the outcome from that person's shoulders and places it on God's, where it belongs in the first place. It is an act of trust, not of fear. It honours God. It does not insult His grace and goodness. And it results in peace, not more anxiety.

That's the kind of peace I want. That's the kind of God I serve. I am overwhelmed by His loving care for me and for all of those who reach out to Him in faith, trusting His goodness and His grace. So when I pray - which I doubt if I'm ever NOT praying as it's a conversation with God - I listen for His heart, let go of what I can't change myself, and trust Him to either change those other things or help me to accept what is. And He does, simple as that. He does.

It's so freeing.

And you did not visit Me.

For I was hungry, and you didn’t feed me. I was thirsty, and you didn’t give me a drink. I was a stranger, and you didn’t invite me into your home. I was naked, and you didn’t give me clothing. I was sick and in prison, and you didn’t visit me.’
“Then they will reply, ‘Lord, when did we ever see you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and not help you?’
“And he will answer, ‘I tell you the truth, when you refused to help the least of these my brothers and sisters, you were refusing to help me.’ - - Matthew 25

He lives in poverty. Oh, to look at it from the surface (because Heaven forbid you look too closely) it might not seem so, but he often has to make the choice between eating and paying the electric or the phone bill, and sometimes both bills. He is on social assistance because he has no other choice. Seriously. There are people who really CANNOT work.

His house is dirty and messy. It is that way because he cannot see well enough to clean it. He is on the list for a cataract surgery, but there is no date on that yet. He longs to be able to see. He hates living like this. He is unable to work because of his vision and many other health problems ... but he would love to be able to work to pay his bills on time and afford to do so many things that people who don't live in poverty take for granted.

He doesn't trust people, because people have always let him down. They have hurt him, or taken advantage of his generosity when he had a bit more money, or they judged him, so he has learned to be wary of people and might even push them away. He especially doesn't trust Christians. They sit back in their nice houses and designer clothes and they judge him without taking the time to know him. He has no time for people like that. 

So on the surface, he seems prickly by nature. He calls it like he sees it, and that makes people uncomfortable. So they stay away. As a result, he is lonely. And you might think that he has brought it on himself, that if he were more friendly, he might have more friends. But almost everyone he has ever known or trusted in his life has either let him down, or judged him, or used him, or a combination of all three. He can't afford to trust.

Image from Pixabay - a blur of long grass

He has his property, the one good thing he has left of his parents: his father, who died years ago, and his mother, who deeded the property to him before she got dementia and had to be placed in a nursing home. He has one beat-up little car, which he just barely manages to keep road-worthy in case he needs to drive it, which doesn't happen often.

Everything else has been stolen from him. The neighbors drive by the house and shake their heads, tutting to themselves when they see that his lawn is overgrown, grass as tall as four feet in some places. They don't bother to stop in and ask him if he would like someone to come in and cut it for him. They wouldn't do it for nothing. Rather than care for him, they would rather think he doesn't care. He does care. He just cannot physically go out there and use a push mower. He has a heart condition, a lung condition, failing kidneys, is nearly blind with cataracts, and he has other health conditions as well. And he simply cannot afford to pay someone to cut the grass, nor could he afford a ride-on mower in a million years. Simple as that. 

He used to have homemakers coming in to the house. But someone saw a rodent trap and then they refused to come in. The house has rodents because part of the house sits on a mud basement, but he cannot afford to do the home renovations that would need to be done to keep the critters from coming in. He has battled them for months ... and he is winning. But until the gateway is closed (that is, until there is a cement barrier), the battle will continue. He has asked the government for help. But there is one problem. There is no guarantee that the government will help him.

He has nobody to help. And everyone assumes that someone else will do it. So nobody does.

The church has forgotten him. They are too busy raising funds for this or that missionary half a world away while he lives in squalor beneath their very noses. They hold those upturned noses and look the other way because he doesn't attend church, so they consider him to be apostate. He doesn't attend because he has been too hurt by Christians judging him in that exact way just because he gets frustrated and loses his temper with people sometimes. Live in poverty yourself, and then see how quickly you lose your temper.  

Every unexpected bill that arrives is a crisis. Every unexpected setback is overwhelming. He has attempted suicide ... and only an intramural nurse saved his life because she called him after he had taken the pills. She called the ambulance and they came and got him. He was in the hospital for weeks, battling depression and hopelessness and panic. You didn't know that, did you? No, because you forgot him; he was easy to forget.

Strangers help him before the church would ever think to. It was strangers in a community service organization who replaced his fridge when it got broken last winter. They came in and took out the old one, set up the new one and brought groceries to put in it. And these strangers were NOT from a Christian organization. 

The only family members who do care for him live so far away that it is very difficult to make sure his needs are met from day to day. They have their own bills to pay too. They help whenever they can, but it is not enough; he lives on only $537 a month, and no more. In the day by day reality, he lives with the knowledge that others have the power to get together and help him, but they don't. Or they won't. 

And there are many others like him out there, people the church has forgotten because 'the government will look after them.'  Well - the government keeps these people below the poverty line so that they will be motivated to seek work. But this fellow can't work. What about him? 

What about you? What about me? Where do we fit into all of this? Do we - as a result of our own lack of action - keep people like this gentleman trapped in what amounts to a prison of poverty, just because he doesn't look like, talk like, or act like us? Do they have to clean up their act and be more like us just so we will look at them?

I'm not saying he hasn't made mistakes in the past. I'm not saying he isn't making mistakes now. But the fact remains that he is struggling for every last hour he remains on the planet. It should not have to be so hard. WE do not have to be so hard.

We have lost our Way. And if we don't find the Way of compassion and love, someday we may hear that WE did not feed, clothe or visit the ones in need. 

Tempest in a coffee cup

It started when a certain coffee shop chain decided not to feature an obviously Christmas-y decorated cup for the holiday season like every other coffee shop chain.  The most vocal outrage came from .... Christians.  First they bought the coffee and wrote Merry Christmas on the cups (ummm, doesn't that put MORE money in the chain's account?) and then there were calls to boycott ... and the debate raged hot and heavy on social media .... and so on, until everyone was (and is) sick of it. 

Oh come ON.

Photo "Homeless Man" courtesy of
Mantas Ruzveltas at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Of all the things to crusade for, this is what gets attention? A paper coffee cup?  How about the homeless in your neighbourhood?  How about the teenage girls who don't think they have any other option but to get an abortion when they get pregnant? How about the co-worker who is so lonely that he is considering suicide - how much would it cost to sit with him over a cup of hot chocolate and a cookie once in a while? or smile and say hello to him by name in the corridor?  How about the neighbour who needs his grass cut but can't afford to repair his lawnmower? How about you use your imagination to see how many ways you can do some good for someone else?  Who freaking CARES what your coffee cup has printed (or not printed) on it? 

I absolutely detest confrontation.  But I am so steamed about this small example of self-righteousness that I want to confront people who argue and judge over things that just don't matter. They don't!  It doesn't matter whether Joe Blow politician does or believes something you don't agree with.  It doesn't matter if people say Merry Christmas or Happy Holidays.  It doesn't!  

Stop trying to Christianize everything!  It doesn't matter whether the preacher wears a tie.  It doesn't matter whether people believe in the big bang theory.   News flash: there are a lot of good-hearted people who aren't Christians. And they (and others who aren't quite so nice) are watching us, watching how we act and react.  And they have concluded that we're a pretty pathetic bunch.  

And they're right. As a group, in Western society, we really are.  A lot of us see demons in dishrags, angels in the shape of birds, and we can't even enjoy a simple pleasure like a sunset without turning it into an opportunity to beat people over the head with creationism. Here's another news flash: that doesn't "win souls." That makes people want to avoid us - and not because we're being persecuted for righteousness' sake.  It's because we're weird. And not in a good way, but in a space-cadet, whacked-out way!!

The truth is, we don't live in a Christian society.  We live in a secular society. So did the early Christians.  You didn't see them carrying placards and staging demonstrations against the blood sport at the Coliseum.  You didn't see them writing their emperor to have the taxes lifted.  You didn't see them going around judging people either.  What you saw was them loving people, being good to people.  You saw them enjoying life, being happy, and being generous.  

Christians are real people in a real relationship with a real Person.  And that Person is really into being good to people (ALL people), loving them, bringing them joy, no matter where on the journey they are.  He went to the limit and beyond to rescue the whole world... to show us His love. 

Put that in your coffee cup and drink it.  Live THAT out in real love and compassion, without trying to one-up someone else or prove a point.  I dare you.

Light and Easy

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” - Mt. 11: 28-30, Message (emphasis mine)

I've been doing a lot of thinking and meditating lately about the kind of Life Jesus intended to give us, a life of freedom, one delivered from the burdens of religious ritual and meaningless mantras, one of passion and purpose and peace. 

He used the picture of the yoke in the above passage (I just used the paraphrase for clarity's sake, and because I love the phrase "the unforced rhythms of grace." What a picture of freedom - but that is another post for another time!)  

The yoke is a time-honored traditional way to harness the strength of two powerful beasts (be they horses or oxen) to accomplish a given task. The yoke is essentially a cross-piece that is laid across the necks of two animals. The farmer would attach the middle of the yoke to a pole through a ring or a rope, and attach the other end of the pole to a plow or some other farming tool. He would either walk behind the plow or put his weight on it to drive it into the ground and make the plow dig deeper into the earth. All the animals had to do was walk together.

Drawing "Farmer And Horses Plowing Field Oval Etching"
courtesy of vectorolie at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

I've seen this happen. When I was growing up, my uncle had two draft horses that he put together in a contraption very much like a yoke ... and he would come and "horse-hoe" our potatoes. This was a necessary task, because it loosened the dirt around the potatoes and allowed them more room to grow, and it also covered the maturing potatoes with more soil so that they didn't get sunburned. In addition, it was a hundred times faster than hoeing the rows by hand.

I used to love to watch the two mares do their work because well, I happen to love horses ... and this was as good an excuse as any to get out of the house and away from the detested task of washing the dishes (that's hilarious to my husband by the way... but I digress.)  It amazed me to see how they seemed to communicate with each other as they went about their work; they knew what had to be done and I could see them looking at one another, happy in each other's company. The work was secondary. They got to spend time together. When one would stumble, the other would slow down and steady the harness until the other one fell back into step with her.

Now, here are a few fun (if random) facts.

• "Beasts of burden" (and people, by the way) can pull way more than they can carry.
• Each yoke was adjusted (or even constructed) to fit the specific animals perfectly.
• The farmer would yoke animals of the same size together because they would pull better if they were on the same level. The burden became awkward and harder to pull if the animals weren't the same size and strength.
• The animals who worked together would hang out together in the pasture more often.
• If there was a less experienced animal, the farmer would harness or yoke it together with an older, more experienced one (again, of the same size) so that the younger would learn techniques of pulling and of turning from the older, thus decreasing the workload and getting the job done faster.

Okay, here's the thing. When Jesus talked about being "heavy laden" (as the KJV puts it) He was talking about a totally different contraption - something like a pack that a mule would carry on its back, held on with a girth much like a saddle has. People would load up the pack on the animal's back with burdens that were too heavy for humans to carry ... and sometimes the load became way too much for even the animal to carry. The SAME LOAD if pulled by two animals was NOTHING compared to one trying to carry it in its own strength. Consistently heavy-laden animals didn't last as long as teamed animals who pulled. The knees and backs of heavy-laden animals would give out and they would eventually have to be destroyed. 

The "weary and heavy-laden" that Jesus was talking about, then, were people who were burning out, trying to fulfill all the teensy tiny laws, all the "shoulds" and "oughtas" that were placed on them by the religious leaders. Do this, don't do that, don't touch that, don't eat that - and - oh my goodness don't go there and eat with that person! ... etc. 

Enter the Light and Easy yoke. Jesus came so that all those heavy burdens could be put behind us. He came to walk in fellowship with us and to make Himself just our size. He came to show us how it's done. (How what is done?  really LIVING, of course!) And not only that, He came to do that with us, not to be the one standing on the plow, so to speak, but the one in harness with us. We never have to go it alone; HE is there. 

Right beside us. Just our size. Helping, encouraging, waiting for us to get our footing.

In between

I'm neither here nor there, neither in the groove nor out of it, neither on the road nor aimlessly wandering. 

I am in between. 

It's an empty place - a quiet space - almost a vacuum. Between what I have known and what I will know, I am in that curious state of nothingness that begs for an answer, a voice, an activity, anything to fill that void. 

It is a dangerous place - an eerie space - more silent than a whisper, and just as elusive. It's uncomfortable. I am tempted to go back to what was, what I knew, not because it is a better place, but simply because I know it, and I know what to expect. Yet because I know what to expect, I dread moving backward in that all-too-familiar direction. Too long I have wallowed in its mediocrity and sameness. Yet the future - bright and glittering- is unreachable, shiny, taunting me with its promises of a better life, whatever that means. 

It looks as though I am stuck here - here in the present, here in the in-between. Here the echoes of what was ... are too loud, and the promise of what will be ... is too far off to provide any satisfaction. 

This is the void. This is the awkward silence, the silence of 'becoming'. 

It is empty ... and dangerous ... and absolutely essential. Here I can ask myself the tough questions from which I have been hiding. Who am I? Why am I here? Is this all there is? Is what I have known all that will ever be? Can I not hope for something more? Will I ever stop feeling so lifeless? Where is the joy I was promised? Can I ever learn to listen for - and hear - that still small Voice again? 

Other voices clamour around me to fill that silence with uplifting music, with many words, with groanings and fervent prayer, with busy-work. Yet the only sound my soul makes is that of a small, frightened child - so frightened that she dare not make a sound or she will be discovered. I hear the rapid beating of my own heart, as if I have stepped off a cliff with no assurance that anything will be there to keep me from falling to my death. There are moments of abject terror - of a panic so great that it steals my breath from my lungs.

The questions continue, go deeper, persist in spite of the pleadings of some part of me for them to stop. But they don't. Where did the Light go? Will I ever see it again? Why is it that others seem so satisfied with the status quo ... and I do not? Do I really know what it is that I am looking for? If I don't, then how will I know it when I see it? (Or WILL I see it?) 

This hurts. It's painful. I can't describe it well enough; only those who have been here will understand. I can talk to them, and they can encourage me to persevere, but it seems I can't make anyone else understand. "Why are you so dissatisfied?" I hear them say in my mind. "Why are you putting yourself through this?"

Nobody wants to hear about this place. They want me to be as I was, or they want me to be as I will be. They are just as uncomfortable with this awkward place in my life as I am - perhaps even more so. Everyone wants the finished product, something recognizable, something to point to and either pray for or praise God for. Not this. Not the transition. Not the uncertainty. Not the pain. Oh most definitely not the pain. 

I know that so many will not understand.  This fact tears at the fabric of my being, for I have spent my whole life trying to do whatever I could to make people approve of me, to like me, to hear me, to understand me. Yet I know - I KNOW - that so many people will think that I am sick, or sad, or crazy, or backslidden, or ... or whatever they will think. Yet I am so desperate for answers that I must face the monster of "What will people think?" and put it to death in my life. I must exist in this place of emptiness, of the void, no matter what people think.

This, THIS is in between. This is not comfortable. Yet it's all I know right now. Like the caterpillar in its chrysalis, I am being de-consructed; the person I was is no longer the person I am. I am being changed; into what, I do not know. It is too soon to tell. I am only beginning.

All I know for sure is that it will be different. Just how different, or what form it will take, is completely unknown to me. The only One who knows is the One who compelled me to enter this place, this space where all else fades away ... except change.

Greater Things

I was reading an email earlier this month and I stumbled over the sentence, "People cannot progress beyond their leaders." 

Huh?

I started seriously thinking about that, pondering it. I think the person meant that students can't learn more than their teachers know (if the only source of learning is the teacher.) 

Even though the person who said it certainly did not mean it in the following way, there is a sense in which that kind of statement limits the power of God. 

Jesus told His disciples that they would do the works that He did, and even greater things, because He was going to His Father. (John 14:12)

He had only been there for three years or so, working miracles left, right, and centre by the power of the Spirit, and He wanted them to know what to expect after He left. Answer: MORE!!

It's been just shy of 2000 years since He did those works, and yes, His followers have healed so many sick, raised so many dead, cleansed so many lepers and cast out so many demons that it would be impossible to count. The works are greater in number, exponentially! 

They've been greater in geography too: now people all over the world have been saved, delivered, healed, cleansed, and given new life, not just in the old Roman Empire but in places the original disciples never even heard of. 

Illustration "Giving To The Poor" by
David Castillo Dominici at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

They've been greater in visibility. Modern technology has made it possible to see thousands of people gathered and dozens, even hundreds at a time having their lives transformed by the power of God. 

Jesus also told His followers that the Holy Spirit would lead them. He'd teach them to remember Jesus' words when they needed to remember them. He'd direct them which people to talk to, and what to say and do when they got there (no matter how small; remember, He's the architect, so a bolt is just as important as a beam...) The Holy Spirit would show them which people would be responsive to the message, and which people needed to have a seed of hope or faith planted. Living life in the Spirit would grant His followers (including US!!) the same access to the power and direction of God that Jesus did when He was here on earth. 

The same power. The same access. The same. 
Wow!!

This is one reason why, if teachers teach the students how to listen to the Spirit, the students can indeed go beyond what the teacher knows. It's no fault of the teacher and it is no virtue of the student; it is just a function of the Holy Spirit to go beyond what we can imagine.

After all, with Him, all things are possible. 
 (Now where have I heard that before??)

Stop striving

I was at a gathering one day recently where the speaker passed around a whole pile of little devices. Each was essentially the same as the next. There were enough for everyone. 

Here's mine:

Trying to get out of the thumb cuffs -
an exercise in futility...

They are called finger traps, or thumb cuffs. (Some folks use an ethnic term in front of that - such as Chinese or Mexican. That kind of doesn't sit well with me.]

He told us to put a finger or a thumb in each end, all the way up to the hilt. Then to pull. Our fingers were trapped. 

The harder we pulled, the tighter the thumb cuffs got. If we followed our natural instincts to escape, there was none. 

The only way to escape the finger trap was to do the opposite: push those digits TOWARD each other so that the little tube would loosen. Then use the other fingers to remove first one side, then the other. 

Since that little demonstration, I've been thinking about all the situations that are exactly like that in our lives. There are so very many applications!! Dead-end jobs, complicated relationships, parent-teen struggles, and even our relationship with God or how we approach our spiritual life.

We get stuck in a certain mindset and it limits us in our thinking and reactions to things. Take prayer, for example. 

We know that God answers prayer. We know He has the power to do anything. A horrific situation arises. So we pray. And - as sometimes happens - nothing happens. 

Enter the finger trap. We think that it must be something we are doing wrong. So we pray harder. Still nothing. We fast. We ask others to join us in prayer. We do a Jericho march. We claim Scripture. And still nothing. The bands get tighter and tighter, and we don't know what's wrong. After all, God is perfect, so the problem must be us ... and yet we've done everything right, right? 

Maybe we even begin to doubt His goodness. But we push that thought away. No, that can't be it.  We must not be living right. We aren't spreading the gospel enough. We aren't reading the Word enough. We aren't serving in the church enough. The list is endless. 

We are well and truly trapped. All our striving has gotten us so bound up in rules and obligations. We find ourselves trying to twist God's arm, manipulating Him into giving us the answer we want. 

It doesn't work that way. Really. 

Prayer isn't about getting what we want. It's about relationship. Our relationship ... with HIM. His relationship with us. We keep striving, but what we need to do is to STOP IT. Relax. Let go. Know He is God - and we aren't!! Thank and praise Him for His presence through it all, accept that He will do what is best. And trust.

Trusting is the hardest thing; it means taking our hands off it, removing our thumbs from the thumb cuffs and letting Him be God. No matter what. 

No matter what... stop striving. (Psalm 46:10). We are weary and burdened. Let's let Him give us rest. (Matthew 11:28-30).

The View From Here

It seems like forever since I found myself down here, down below the surface, away from the sunshine. I'm not exactly sure why this was the place where someone thought I should be... but it's where I am. I've worked hard to accept it, because try as I might, I've not been able to extricate myself ... not from lack of trying! 

Wait. Wait and you will see. You don't need to understand. All will be made clear.

I can't help thinking how dark and slimy it is here. It's been a very long time since I've seen any lasting rays of light. I used to be so thick-skinned, but now the least little thing seems to pierce through. 

You are being softened. Trust. I am near.

I know that there are things that are happening within me. But I can only feel discomfort. I can't see anything beyond this oppressive, fetid place. I can't see any growth in me, just stirrings of irritation. I feel like I'm being split in two, that my whole life is coming apart. 

There is life. You are growing inside. You can't see it yet because you're too close to the situation. What you are feeling is normal. Relax; it will take time. I am in control. 

I feel as though I'm reaching in all different directions. I'm vaguely aware that I am growing, but I can't see how. Where is the sun? I feel like I'm losing myself to this process ... I'm not even sure I know who I am anymore. 

You are becoming. Who you used to be is being transformed. You are being rooted deeply. Soon you will see. 

Every movement is an effort, a struggle. I'm tired. I just want things to be easier, safer, less exhausting. I admit that now I can feel the warmth of the sun a little, but slogging through this dark place takes all the energy I have. I have nothing left over. 

Your growth is beginning to show. This is the hardest part, just before your breakthrough. Keep feeling that warmth, drinking in the nourishment I send. Soon you will see ... and gain strength to grow even more.

Photo "Young Plant" courtesy of
amenic181 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Author and Finisher

In my last post, "Sacred Cows," I talked about how we compartmentalize and become very protective of those things in our lives that we consider "ours" ... when God's plan is to smash down the dividing walls that separate our relationship with Him from the rest of our lives. 

If, by reading that post, anyone might have thought how vigilant WE need to be, how we need to repent and confess our sinfulness to God, etc., let me be clear. 

Yes, knowing about where we may have been missing the mark can be helpful because at least now we are aware and can listen to and recognize His voice a bit better. But it is GOD who began this new creation. He is the Author of our New Life. And it is HE who will direct the path of our lives so that we bump right smack dab into Him, time and time again. HE will finish the work He started. 

The only thing we need to open our eyes to .... is Him. His passionate Love. His boundless Grace. His endless Patience. His supreme Sufficiency. 

Photo "Daily Planner With Pen" by
BrandonSigma at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

HE wrote the Book. Not only the Book we hold in our hands but also the Book of our lives. HE knows how it turns out. HE made provision for it, for us, for every possible outcome or circumstance. Nothing we have done or ever will do, will EVER take Him by surprise. Nothing we have done or ever will do, will change His constant, unconditional love for us - it won't make Him love us any less ... or any more ... than He always has for all eternity - past, present and future. 

It was HE who conceived the plan of salvation, in Eternity Past, before He even spoke the words, "Let there be light." It was HE who chose us in Him (Jesus, Himself) before the foundation of the world, planned for us (through Jesus) to be holy and without blame before Him (Eph. 1:4,5). At the Cross (and from Ages before the world began) God made Jesus, the Sinless One, to be our sin (ALL our sin: past, present and future) so that He could restore to us the glory we lost in Eden - the righteousness of God - in Him (2 Cor. 5:21). Not to condemn us to a life of slavery (touch not, taste not, handle not - Col. 2:21) but to free us from it (Gal. 5:1). Forgiveness is ours; we don't need to ask for it - it is OURS! He has broken down the walls between us and Him, and will continue to break them down within us so that EVERY aspect of our lives feels the warmth of His presence.

And we? we get to go along for the Ride. He is the conductor, He is the train, and He is the fuel; we are passengers. There is nothing that we can do to guarantee our arrival at destination (that's already been done for us too, see Phil. 1:6). Everything has been planned for, set up, started, is being maintained just fine, and will finish because HE has willed it so. 

We can relax. We can rest in His amazing, all-pervasive love. We can open ourselves to Him, knowing that only a great and supreme Love would reach down and translate us from darkness to light BECAUSE HE CHOSE TO. That's how much He loves. That's how much He plans for us, stays with us, and lavishes His Holy Spirit within each of us. 

There is nothing to prove. 
HE has done it all; HE will finish it all. 
Period.

Undiluted, Pure Grace

Whenever I get confused about what I have to do, what God's will is for me, or whether I'm barking up the wrong tree, I always end up in either Romans 8, 1 Corinthians 5, or Galatians. 

Today, I decided to take a different tack with my approach - instead of reading a few favorite verses, I decided to read the whole book of Galatians, and in a readable, relate-able paraphrase called "The Message." I find that this paraphrase demystifies Paul's writings for me and helps me get to his intent, his real message, stripping away all the convoluted fancy talk. 

I wanted to see just what the church's problem was at Galatia. What specifically was Paul trying to correct? I wanted to see the big picture and not get "lost in the tall grass" as one acquaintance put it once. And it was so clear as I just read through all six chapters that the thing he was trying to correct was that the Galatians believed the lie. The lie is that humans can do something to make God like them more. 

What they didn't GET was that God already approved of them, had already gone to the cross for them, rescued them, and made them righteous in His sight through the sacrifice He made for them, putting them right back into the covenant that God made with Abraham: you know, the one based on faith alone, five hundred years before Moses was even born. They were stuck on keeping the law as a way to add to what Jesus had already accomplished for them; it was an insult to His grace. It detracted from it, diluted it.

To dilute something means to lessen its power by adding something else into the mix. While dilution can be a helpful thing in cases of making something more palatable or less toxic, the sense in which I mean it is of something that would be detrimental by being watered down. For example, the orphanage in Dickens' book, Oliver Twist used to water down the porridge served so that it was no longer porridge (oatmeal) at all, but gruel, or oatmeal-flavored water. It left the boys in the orphanage constantly hungry, which gave rise to Oliver's famous quote, "Please sir, may I have some more?"  

Grace gets watered down with religion - and the result is gruel. Nasty, tasteless, unsatisfying gruel. 

But people don't know the difference if that is the only diet they've ever gotten. The only way is to give them a taste of what they've been missing.

Here is a taste of Pure Grace. Jesus has done it all for you; He has already fully accepted you; there is nothing else you need to do for Him to completely love you and approve of you. God did that IN JESUS AT THE CROSS from before the foundation of the world. Nothing you can do can add to it or take away from it; the Grace of God stands alone. 

Photo "Rushing River" courtesy of Maggie Smith at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Your faith is nothing more than saying "Yes" to His Grace, believing that you can step into that stream of living water already flowing beneath your feet. He works His life out in you. 
He is with you, and as near as the breath you breathe. Always. Not just at some ornate altar somewhere, He is with you at all times, loving you, bragging you up, doting on you. 

Listen to what a friend of mine had to say about this:

It seemed that the gospel I was raised with required my faith in order for my sins to be forgiven. That God would not or could not love me until I worked faith out. This seemed to make my faith a work by which I gained or won salvation. Now I know that my faith simply accepts what is already mine. While I was a sinner Christ died and rose again for me. God has never held my sin against me. Christ was crucified before the world began. I was reconciled to God from birth. It’s all mine (and yours) now, though I won’t experience it until I believe it. However, the accepting of forgiveness does not produce it. Faith simply says ”I see it, I believe it.” Seeing it, believing it, is a work of grace, and then I have to simply say “yes” to it.

This radical shift for me has now begun to cross over into what I have as a believer. I have longed for certain gifts to be mine. Asked, begged, pleaded with God, to allow them to be in my life. Thinking that until I act in some worthy fashion and exercise my faith that they would not be manifested. But they are all mine already, and have been from the very beginning of all things, and thus certainly from the beginning of my spiritual life.

“For in him all the fullness of deity lives in bodily form, and you have been filled in him, who is the head over every ruler and authority.” (Col 2:9,10)

“For every one of God’s promises are “Yes” in him; therefore also through him the “Amen” is spoken, to the glory we give to God.” (2 Cor 1:20)

Faith just says “I see it, I believe it.” Seeing that all his gifts are mine already is a work of grace, and then I have to simply say “yes” to it.

Demanding that anyone produce the work of faith before they can be forgiven is actually a sure way to keep them from it. If faith becomes a law, a thing we must do before God will love us, then we have fallen from Grace before we ever find it. If believing that the gifts are mine is a law, a thing I must do before they can be mine then I am already insulting the Spirit of Grace. I am already far from the reality as it is in Jesus.

It’s all ours now, all we have to do is see it, believe it, and say yes to it.
    - Rev. Stephen John Fenton, 2015-04-11.

I saw this work of Grace in the heart and life of my own dad. He was a chain-smoker, started smoking when he was five years old and had tried to quit SO many times, to no avail. He struggled with it all of his life. And for decades he had been judged and condemned by the religious elite of the community - which included his own wife many times - and sometimes he had tried to change, to clean up his life. He just. couldn't. do. it. He couldn't change himself, not one iota. He couldn't understand the Bible, didn't want to read it, didn't want anything to do with the people who'd judged him...the religious ones...or the petty, vindictive god they served.

When he was 58, he had a heart attack. And one day, after having developed a respect for the pastor who went to see him every day and showed that he cared about HIM, that pastor asked him for permission to ask him a personal question. With Dad's permission, the pastor said, "Are you trusting Jesus as your only way to a relationship with God?" And Dad thought about it and then he said, "Yes." And he meant it.

In that moment, something radical changed in him; he was never the same. And all he said was, "Yes." That's pure Grace. 

Yes, he struggled with his addiction. Yes, it eventually and ultimately killed him - first laying waste to his lungs, then his brain. But the person he was when he walked out of that hospital at fifty-eight years old was a different person than he was when he went in. He found himself automatically loving Jesus. He found himself automatically wanting to spend time with Him, reading what He had to say. He became more generous, more loving, more gentle, more humble. All without even trying. Jesus was doing the working out of Grace in his life, giving him the "want to" and the power to live each moment in gratitude and in returning the great love he had been given back to the One who gave it. And at the end of his life here, not even 10 years after that heart attack, there were so many people at his funeral that folks filled the foyer, and had to stand outside the church in the cold November air. 

Grace has nothing to do with us. It has everything to do with God.

That's how it works. That's how it always works - full-strength, undiluted, pure Grace. 

Thank God!!

The unforced rhythms of Grace

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to Me. 
Get away with Me and you’ll recover your life. 
I’ll show you how to take a real rest. 
Walk with Me and work with Me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of Grace. 
I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. 
Keep company with Me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”
- - - - Matthew 11:28-30  (The Message)

Tonight I listened to the Easter Sunday morning message (on Saturday night where I live) - streamed live from Hillsong church in Australia. Pastor Brian spoke powerfully on the overwhelming power of the message of Grace - the simple message that the Cross equals Love, just asking from the Giving God who gives (James 1:5, AMP). 

And then he read the above passage from the Message. One of my favorite passages in the New Testament, it is Jesus talking. I know that the Message is a paraphrase and I won't get into a debate about what version is authorized or not. (I'm thinking the original one written in Greek is, but that's just a theory...) but those words - 'the unforced rhythms of Grace' - reached out to me and ministered to my heart. 

So much of what church and Christianity has become for me and for so many others has more to do with being forced. Pushing, fighting, persevering, sweating, fasting, agonizing. Really. There's only so much effort one can make before strength fails. 

Strength fails.

"I will give you rest," Jesus said. "My yoke is easy, My burden is light." It's not forced, not accomplished by grimacing in pain or doing a Daniel fast or tithing thirty percent or hopping to it every time the church doors are open. 

It's rest. Rest in Him. "Come to Me," Jesus said. Not "go to church." 

Am I saying not to go to church? well-l, all I can say is that lately whenever I've gone to church I've come home more upset than before I went...from all the "ands" and "ifs" I've been hearing, all the mind-games and controlling practices I see. As soon as the worship starts, it starts. Raise your hands, stand up, sit down. No, really MEAN this song, you're not doing it right. Go around and greet people, love on them. Okay that's enough, stop doing that. No really, greeting time is over; be quiet, I'm talking now. What's wrong with you? how come you're not saying Amen? Now stand up. Now sing this other song. Now learn a bunch more of stuff I know but you don't. Now add this religious practice to your life. And that one. And this other one. It'll help your faith grow. If you don't do it my way you are missing something, you're defective. Repent and come to the altar, you sinners... and on it goes; it's so sickening. 

Now, if church isn't like that for you, if you look forward to going and you sense the real presence of God, great!! But I wonder if we really feel His presence there, or whether we are being manipulated emotionally. I only know that I feel manipulated and judged, when I listen to anyone's voice but His. 

Photo "Loving Father And His Baby" courtesy of
David Castillo Dominici at
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So when I go to church, I try not to listen to any other voice but the voice of Jesus, not to see any face but the face of Jesus. I don't sing for (or TO) anyone but Him. Anything less - any time I get my eyes off the One who loves me, and see the sea of people around me who are looking for a shepherd, I become discouraged and I sink into despair. 

I felt like that last Sunday. I was millimeters from throwing in the towel - not on God but on those who call themselves His people. I felt trapped, used, controlled, condemned. And I was dreading going to church this weekend -- of all weekends, Easter. Too many expectations, too much pressure. The prayers and words of a friend helped me to gain enough strength to just lay that aside and seek the face of God.

I was spinning my wheels all week, in turmoil, not knowing what to do or where to go (if anywhere).

And then those words. "Learn the unforced rhythms of Grace." 

I'd forgotten that the cross equals Love. That Love came down willingly and died for me, stretched out His arms to show how much He was going to take away - everything - everything in me that separated me from receiving His love. I'd forgotten how He rescued me, how He set me free, made me the righteousness of God. I'd forgotten how He took my sin away, loved it right out of me, blazed the trail back to Heaven by becoming just like me, just so I could let the Father love me.  

He led the captor captive, tore out his teeth and paraded him through the halls of hell to the cheers of those whom He had released from their long waiting. And He rose from the dead ... so I didn't have to fear that either.

And I didn't need a ritual to "remind" me.  I needed HIM. I needed His words. That promise of rest, of Grace already given for all time, of His presence with me. 

And it brought something to me that I have not experienced for a long time. 

Peace. Joy. And Love.

Hoeing the row

Maybe it's the long stretch of winter that lasts from November to May here in the Maritimes. Or maybe it's just the way my mind works; I don't know. 

I've been thinking about gardening. Don't get me wrong; I don't want to start gardening. I've just been thinking about the process ... working the soil, planting the seeds, watering during dry times, thinning out the plants, and beginning to harvest (which should tell you what kind of gardening I mean - since the only kind that makes any sense to me is planting seeds that will eventually turn into food). 

And then there's my least favorite part - possibly everybody's least favorite part - weeding. 

Weeds happen. They spring up unbidden like some ancient curse (oh wait - they ARE some ancient curse ... I seem to remember that being part of the package in Genesis 3...) And it seems you just get rid of one batch and the next one pops up. It's so discouraging. Yet it's necessary to keep the weeds down because they will choke the plant or the crop, stunt its growth and there will be far less in the harvest.

Some weeds are mistaken for the real thing. I remember a particularly insidious kind when I was growing up - my mother called them "wild beans" - they had leaves like young bean plants and they were the climbing variety so they'd climb up the stalks and choke out the bean plants (and whatever other plants were around). If left long enough, they'd choke out the plant so much that it would shrivel and wither away. 

Photo "Home Gardening" courtesy of
winnond at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

The only way to fix it was to hoe the row - take a hoe to the side of the garden row, loosen the dirt around the weed's root - and lift the root out of the ground. Then it could be unwound from the plant. Breaking it off above ground only made it stronger... and the root being gone wasn't enough to stop the choking (since the plant kept growing and would choke itself on the stem of the dead root.) 

I see things like that happening in the church. People start believing things that sound like they should be in the Bible (some folks actually believe that they ARE in the Bible) ... but they're not. In fact, these sayings are part of a doctrine that appeals to the sense that we humans have that we have to have control over our destiny, that we can do something to make God like us better, that what Jesus did on the cross wasn't enough and that we have to add our good deeds to it in order to be accepted by Him. These are things like, "Cleanliness is next to godliness" and "God helps those who help themselves." 

I'm sure that Jesus would have had a couple of things to say about those two sayings. Things like, "You obsess about the exterior! First clean the inside of the cup. Then the outside will automatically be clean." Or, "Apart from Me you can do nothing." 

These beliefs about cleaning up our act and then approaching God, or about God expecting us to do what we can before we ask His help - these are contrary to the scriptures. 

First, we can never clean up our act enough on our own to please Him. And we don't have to (that's His job! He's already done it!) Jesus died for us while we were still His enemies and He takes our "yes" and makes us into completely new creations. 

And second, when we try to do anything in our own strength, we ultimately fall flat on our faces. The lesson I've had to keep learning over and over is that it's better to ask Him first and rely on His strength because if left to my own devices, things will fall apart ... and quickly! 

So I pick up the hoe, I weed out all my efforts to "live the Christian life." And I simply enjoy Him. There's nothing complicated about it. The more I let go of my own efforts and trust what He has already done for me, rest on that finished work, appreciate the grace, the love, the goodness, and the forgiveness that has already been lavished on me, the more full of gratitude and joy I become. The plant will grow - automatically. 

And it will bear fruit. The more gratitude and joy happens in response to what He's already done for me and in me, the more that people around me are going to notice. Most people know when someone is acting. It won't be a set of put-on masks or platitudes. It will be real. It will be vital. It will be something that people can understand. And maybe, just maybe they'll begin to believe that He has done the same for them too. 

Until Morning

This week has been a sad one. 

Two wonderful ladies I've known for a very long time both passed away this week.

The first was one of the first women to take me under her wing when I first started exploring the world of the Spirit-filled life, about 32 years ago. Jean was ... unique. There was such an inner thrill in her - and it didn't take long to figure out why. Her joy when she sensed God moving in someone's life just bubbled out of her like large bubbles coming up to the surface from deep inside. Her passion for people to be free, her perseverance and power in prayer, and her willingness to do whatever God said, when He said, for however long He said, was phenomenal. 

The thing I'll miss most about her, though, is the way she would give what I came to call her "holy hugs."  She'd wrap her arms around me and start to pray in the Spirit ... then she'd sense God's presence and she'd start to chuckle, a low, deep sound that reminded me of toffee cooking on the stove. She'd squeeze tighter as her joy just overflowed; I couldn't help but be touched. 

The same thing would happen when she hugged others as well. Her joy was contagious; people couldn't help but be affected. 

When I heard that she had passed away this past week, I felt sad - not for her but for me. She is happier, freer than she's ever been. But down here won't quite be the same without her.

Photo "Lighthouse At Sunset" by
Serge Bertasius Phtography at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

Then, this morning, I learned that the second lady had passed away last Friday. I've known this woman for even longer than I knew Jean. 

Elma and her late husband were what I think of when I use the term "salt of the earth." Generous, giving, and accepting, she was in the running to become my mother-in-law at one point (yes, I dated her son for a while) and although nothing ever came of it, I always felt privileged to have met her and her husband, and held a special place in my heart for their whole family. 

She and her husband were so kind to me when I was pregnant with Arielle - and so sick I could barely drag myself out of bed, much less care for a toddler. When I was at my lowest ebb (hours away from being hospitalized for severe dehydration) they came over here and looked after our oldest, did housework and never expected any payment at all.... while I sat on the sofa and cried with mixed helplessness and gratitude. It was just what they did. They did what they could to bless people. And it worked. We were blessed ... beyond belief.

Our girls considered them their honorary grandparents. There was just something about Elma - sweet and humble and gentle, soft-spoken but yet respected (out of love) by her children. 

I will miss her.

Whenever someone passes away who is a believer, especially if that someone is special to me or to my loved ones, I have a habit of drawing something on that date on my calendar - the outline of a setting sun on the horizon. It reminds me of the old gospel song, "Sunset" - the chorus of which goes, "God paints the clouds in the evening sky to show me the way to the palace on high, and stars mark the pathway lest my feet should roam; it's Sunset, and I'm going Home." 

The promise of Heaven is not a hope-so-maybe kind of hope. It's a "know-so" kind of hope - a calm assurance that to be absent from the body is to be present with the Lord. I know that Jean and Elma are there - enjoying the bliss of being face-to-face with Jesus. They are in that Never-ending Day - where there is no darkness, no pain, no sorrow, no separation. 

Good night dear ladies. Rest well - enjoy - and I'll see you in the Morning.

Very. Present. Help.

"God is our refuge and strength,
a very present help in time of
trouble." - Ps. 46:1

There are a lot of things that have been changing in the last while. People I care about have moved away, others have passed away, more and more as time goes on. These are people that have helped to shape who I am, have taught me important things about how to look at life, how to lean on God. The sense of loss is very real.

My personal life is changing. I have left one school in order to apply for another school which will give me a better degree so that I can launch my second career. It will take much longer than I had hoped. 

Photo "Footprints On The Beach Sand"
courtesy of foto76 at
www.freedigitalphotos.net

In a lot of ways, much of the future is literally up in the air. I don't know how much longer my job will last. I don't know whether my chosen school will accept me. There are unanswered questions in the area of my daughter's health, and her future. There is still no closure after my other daughter's death - I'm still paying on her (totaled) car because the health insurance claims apparently have not finished yet and because she didn't life-insure the loan, wanting to "save Mom money." 

It feels sometimes like the ground is giving way underneath of me. I can look down at the crumbling earth ... or question why I feel so alone sometimes ... or I can look up to find out (to my amazement) that He has already been carrying me. The whole time.

When the bottom drops out, His arms - that have been holding me from the beginning - keep me from falling into the vortex. 

In the middle, right in the very middle of the tumult... His peace opens up an eye in the storm. I can still hear the winds howling, but with Him, it is calm. Paying attention to Him centers me. There, leaning into His heart, listening to Him sing, I find His rest has already made a place for me. 

He is my help. He doesn't just GIVE help, He IS help.

He IS here.

He is not just here, not just present, but VERY present. 

Anything, everything I need - He IS. Love, grace, acceptance, pardon, peace, rest, joy, power, provision, health, ... it's impossible to exhaust all that He is. He is MORE. Limitless resources, limitless grace, love without boundaries. 

What more do I need?

Beside Still Waters

For over a week I struggled with it. Every night (it was way worse at night) I'd awaken in the wee hours of the morning, feeling like I was drowning, unable to breathe because of the liquid in my throat and the back of my nose. Swallowing fiercely, snorting, swallowing some more, gasping for breath in between, I'd eventually get up and cough up unspeakably gross blobs of green into the sink, rinse them down the drain. 

When I finally got prescription medication for it, (the doctor thought it was bacterial) I took one - actually, 60% of one - dose of the prescription-strength cough syrup she suggested. It contained hydromorphone - a narcotic-based cough suppressant, as well as a very strong antihistamine (to quell the production of mucous). That was the worst night because there was absolutely NO moisture in my throat, not even the normal kind, and I awoke at 1:30 a.m. with a raging sore throat and no way to moisten it, afraid to take any other medication because I'd been warned against mixing them. (That was the last night I took that particular cough syrup!) 

I did take the antibiotics but they didn't seem to help. Ah, so it's viral and will just need to run its course.

And what a miserable, long course it has been. I've been home for a full two weeks of work.

To top things all off, I ran out of sick leave over a week and a half ago. The leave I have to take now is precious vacation time. It is limited. 

I've run the full gamut of emotions during this sickness - just plain fatigue, yes, but also frustration at not being able to sleep, frustration with myself that I can't fight this thing as quickly as I want, anger that nothing seems to help, sadness and helplessness that my body just can't get out of its own way, anxiety over what I'm going to do about my vacation leave, whether I will have enough, and the list goes on. 

Times like this cause me to question why such things happen. 

Well, it's been a stressful year, no doubt about that. And stress impacts the immune system. The house has had to remain closed in these frigid cold temperatures; that doesn't help. And someone, somewhere, decided it was a good idea to "tough it out" and go to work or to church or to a doctor's office, and in so doing, spread their germs for me to catch. 

I know this in my head. My heart, though, is another matter. All I want is for someone to make the hurting stop, to spoil and look after me, to listen to me when I need listening to, and to show me that I am loved. 

But He HAS already. He HAS shown me that He loves me - what more could He have done but to die for me?  He DOES listen to me. He dotes on my every word, whether spoken to Him directly or not. And He has unleashed an army of antibodies in my body to fight the internal battles I can't consciously fight. 

I listen to some worship music. I pray. I centre myself, breathe deeply ... (medication helps some) and remind myself that He looks after me whether I feel it or not. He constantly prays for me. He continually looks out for my welfare; I need to accept that and rest on it. 

"He leads me beside still waters." (Psalm 23)  I remember that sheep will not drink from moving (troubled) waters. The water must be still. Then the sheep will drink.

He stills the waters. He speaks peace. "I am here." 

Ah, there He is ... the Good Shepherd. The One who gave His life for me. He is here. All the questions melt away. 

I can drink. I can rest. 

Photo "Portrait Of A Baby Sheep In The Farm"
provided by ponsulak at
www.freedigitalphotos.net