“…but one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind and reaching forward to those things which are ahead, I press toward the goal for the prize of the upwardcall of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13b-14)
Begin with anticipation, not anxiety; end with reflection, not regrets.
I read a devotional message this morning which reminds us to have the objective in life of finishing the race in a way that glorifies God. But not without releasing ourselves from the past, including anything that weighs us down. I realized that in not only our faith, but in all of life’s endeavors, we need objectives. From a first grade teacher’s lesson plans to the post-graduate’s continuing education, objectives are necessary. Goals toward bettering oneself or community, improving methods and understanding, increasing wealth, deepening knowledge and faith; these are possible goals or objectives we may find to be our focus.
I enjoy writing on Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons; reflective of the week passed, and hopeful for the coming week. Similarly, with bedtime prayers we ask forgiveness of sins, that our prayer will be heard and live in hope for the coming day. Whether a day from now or a week, or five years, we need objectives to propel and guide. Last week my friend Linda sent a quote to me. It stated no amount of regrets will change the past; no amount of anxiety will change the future; and any amount of gratitude will make the present better. Like Paul said, forget the past and keep the objective ever before us. With thanksgiving. (Philippians 4:6-7)
If you’re like me you try to end each evening with a prayer. Often mine are asking for absence of regret; reflecting on the needs of the future; but always with thanksgiving.
Sharing with my children this morning, the subject of objectives, and its connection to the verses in Philippians, I told them objectives won’t fly if tethered to regrets. I’m learning to let go of the past, press on toward the goal, and in all, to be thankful. As I write, I realize gratitude and prayer have indeed transported me from a residence of regret, to one of, well, time share, perhaps. (smile) While I am not totally free of crying over spilled milk, I am totally free of guilt. The less I cry, the clearer I see objectives. The more I rid my heart of ‘woulda shoulda coulda’ space, the more room I have to embrace a future full of hope and gratitude. My goal? To get rid of that time share and never darken the doors of regret again. I believe we call that Heaven.
Reflect on each day enough to evaluate, and keep or adjust worthy objectives. Anticipate the needs of meeting those, with faith that God will supply your every need. Set your objectives with the ultimate goal of bringing glory to God, even with the mistakes you make, as you accept His forgiveness and grace. Living with no regrets, because Jesus has washed them away, is the freedom He bought for you with His blood on the cross. To cling to regrets is to refuse Him. I pray you will seek Him, accept Him, and through His blood, live regret-free. Trisha
May 2023: The following is edited from my original 2016 post (and I shuddered when I read my 7 years ago post where I left out the chapter information for the reference to Luke!) As our daisies are again blooming in a sitting area; and as the little girl of this story has grown now to a teenager, I’m reminded of “the more things change, the more they stay the same”. The sweet neighbors are moving away this week; the children are young adults; my daisies have moved from the road. Yet, they are still daisies. Relocation doesn’t change the essence of who we are. People relocate; yet they do not move out of our hearts. A friend is a friend, whether near or afar. Love is still love, wherever you are.
“Megan, where did you get these?” her mother asked. Being a typical six-year-old, the little girl hadn’t thought it important where, just that they were pretty, and would no doubt make her mom happy. Isn’t is great how little ones say “I love you”?
Later in the week, during a visit to our house, Megan’s parents revealed to me how their daughter had come in from riding bikes with her big brothers, holding a nice bouquet out so proudly for her mom. Upon being asked, she stated the flowers were just growing out in the ditch! Her parents looked cautiously at each other, not wanting to dash her delight, and queried further. “Megan”, they explained, “flowers like these do not just grow wild; exactly which ditch did you pick them from?” “Well, you see, they are down by Mrs. Ward’s mailbox” Megan said, and was then gently informed that sometimes people plant things on purpose by their mailboxes. At this point in their story, Megan began squirming sheepishly, so I quickly let her off the hook. “Well, at least your mom got one nice bouquet out of them!”, I said with a wink and a smile. She hopped down from the bar stool and ran out chattering something about her next venture. Oh dear God, if only we could all be so open to Your possibilities; Your grace; and so easily redirected when we stray.
I was thinking later about the child and the daisies, and wondered if we, as Christians, share Jesus as little children share flowers. What made Megan stop, look, consider, and partake? I’m thinking of accessibility, desirability, and perhaps the practicality of it.
I’m pretty sure that if I’d planted the daisies only in a bordered flowerbed, the sweet child would have never touched them. She’d have recognized the border as hemming in someone’s possession, and would probably have been too shy to ask if she might pick from them. But these were visible and accessible. Do we tend to keep our Jesus and His words and love behind the church doors; neatly tucked inside a pretty bound bible of perhaps the latest version? Do we keep them hidden within our hearts, where they certainly must begin to take root of course, but out of which they must grow beyond self and into the world. (I should say from the start that I am thinking, and now write to myself first; for I am most guilty of seeking and finding….and then keeping instead of sharing!) In His teachings given to us in the book of Luke, chapter 14, Jesus points out that there are people in the “streets and lanes” (verse 21) and “highways and hedges” (verse 23) who are to be invited into the feast in His kingdom. Matthew records His words in chapter 5 where He tells us our lights must not be hidden (verses 14-16), but placed with purpose upon a lamp stand, illuminating goodness, and giving glory to God. To please the host, God, we must make the feast, His precious word, accessible.
The daisies were desirable to her; like she said, “They were pretty”. What makes Christianity desirable? That is, what looks so good about following Christ that others want to follow? I think we all agree it is not when we distort Christianity with the panes of judgmental attitudes, bigotry, and hypocrisy! We are told how Christianity should look in Galatians 5:22-23. Here we read the beautiful fruit of the Spirit listed. I am convinced that if we are busy living out these fruit, namely ‘love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control’,there will be no time nor tolerance for the awful things that should never be named among God’s people. Additionally, a prophet of long ago stated “He has shown you, O man, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you but to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God?” (Micah 6:8) That is absolutely one of my favorite scriptures, so simply stated. Who would not be attracted to justice, mercy and humility?
Practically speaking, what made more sense than to see flowers, pick a bunch, and take to mom, showing her rather than telling her “I love you”. We see something which reminds us of someone, and provided we can afford it, we buy it, package it pretty and can hardly wait for them to open it! My first blog post told of the blossom in a teacup given to me by my toddler many years ago. I still remember, because he cared enough to pick it (and many more afterwards) and give it to me. When John Dale was our pulpit minister, he often said, “you just start where you are” as he encouraged us to follow Christ, to share His teachings. See the flowers. Pick the flowers. Share the flowers. It’s the only practical way. See it, appreciate it, share it. Megan didn’t need a special purchase order, a price list, or permission to do a good deed. Life is a constant learning experience. So waiting to be perfect will only serve as one of those flower bed borders, foreboding and forbidding. Christ taught us that the greatest love is to give. After giving Himself for us, His last commandment before sitting down at the right hand of God, was to His disciples – to go. Teach. Baptize. Share. Love in word and deed by picking his gospel flowers and giving them away. There is no better way to say “I love you” than to share something precious to you.
Again a child has given me a posy to ponder. Thank you Karen Opferman for letting me quote your child.
I pray that in sharing these thoughts you’ve found a couple of seeds to take with you; one to bloom within your heart and one to bear blossoms for sharing.
What do you do when torrential rains are falling, and New Year’s wishes are calling? If you are like me, you light a favorite candle, play soft music and write. This morning, my seed of inspiration came when my friend Linda sent a link to a blog in which the writer was stating her sadness for the world’s ills, from her own heartbreaking situation to those of her extended community. We can all say, “I hear you!”, unless we have our heads in the sand. I too, hurt deeply for those who’ve met with disaster, heartache and illness. But for some reason, I never see it as clearly in my own life. Sometimes I feel guilty for having it so easy, or it’s like I wear rose colored glasses. Remember that song?
Was it three or four years ago we had the total solar eclipse? Remember the little cardboard sunglasses everyone was grabbing to be prepared for the once in a lifetime event? I had the pleasure of spending that day with my sister and her granddaughters. We made a party of it, (she is like that) and I will never forget being able to witness such a phenomenon. If not for the special eyewear we would have either missed a part of the experience, or suffered eye damage. Wearing them protected us from harmful rays we could not see!
A good pair of sunglasses is another protection and vital to my bird watching pleasure. Our bluebirds perch on an electric line where the sun’s glare makes it impossible for me to admire, much less identify one bird from another, until I remember to wear sunglasses. Then I am able to see the beauty while blocking the glare. Same principle you experience for driving safety or vacation vistas. We just do not need to look right into the brazen blazing heat of the battles.
It seems God provides rose colored glasses to soften the glare of life, to protect and enable. If I were to sit down and start naming all the stuff I wish wasn’t there, I most likely would miss the beauty living right alongside the beast. I’d get so far down in the trenches I couldn’t see the light of day. Unlike the song, these glasses aren’t to “show only the beauty and hide all the truth”. Instead, these dim the glare of life’s ugly, helping me see more of the beauty – just like the sunglasses. For some, the way of escape is highlighted; others see how to execute a plan to make a change, none of which could be seen while squinting at blinding rays of our world’s woes. When we face a situation that feels unbearable, there comes a buffer from the heart of God and we know we’re going to make it one more step, one more day. A shield between us and the enemy, is “the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one” (Ephesians 6:16). “We walk by faith, not by sight.” (II Corinthians 5:7) Thank God, I do not need to see everything past, present and future to get where I am going – what an inconceivably amazing mind is that of our God, Who does see all! And then He lets me see through the eyes of faith all I need to know, where I need to go, and a glimpse of eternity’s rosy glow.
I would be blind and unkind to minimize the struggles the past year has held for so many. But I know God offers shelter from the storms, rest for the weary and grace for when I forget to acknowledge His provisions. Life does have sharp edges! It does get ugly. It makes me cry. I just cannot look at all of it at once. Wearing God’s rose colored faith glasses, I see the rosy glow behind a sunset’s clouds. I clearly see Him carrying us through, conquering our enemies, and giving peace that passes understanding.
My “happy new year” is a bit late due to my choice to set the writing aside for a while and enjoy many blessings. A good hot meal to cook, in a dry warm house; the company of a good husband; visit from nieces here who taught me to play Chinese Checkers and Spoons; and texting with my precious friend and family too, are the rose colored glasses God gave me today.
May your 2022 be just bright enough – not blinding, and not dark. But when you do (and we will) get to those places of too much or not enough, have faith in the Lord Jesus Christ who walked this way already and knows exactly where you need to place each step.
Several of those who “like” a blog are actually inviting you to read their blog, and probably didn’t even read your post through. Occasionally as I check out their blog, a title catches my attention and I read it. One such article this week posed the idea that either there is no god or else the God of the universe must hate us very much to allow all the evil, referring to everything from intentional molestation of children to natural disasters like hurricanes. My first reaction was of gratitude that I have been introduced to a perfect God to walk with me through an imperfect world. Next was to see how others reacted. One comment from a reader touched me especially. She is searching, honestly and tenderly. As she worded her questions and thoughts I pictured a young child stepping gingerly through a waist-high meadow of wildflowers and grasses, wondering which to pick, sniffing some blossoms and smiling; backing away quickly from the prickly weeds; glancing around from time to time at unfamiliar sounds; wandering further, lost in her wonderment. So, how DO we know what to pick – what to hold onto in a world of battles and betrayals? I am not wise enough to adequately meet one so embittered and brash as the blog author. But for the searching one, I offered my source of hope, my peace, my joy found only in Jesus Christ. In Him, God embodied all – His all – the grace and the love we need for hope, peace and safety from the devil’s schemes.
A hummingbird was investigating two empty plant baskets this morning where in years past had been colorful blooms and sometimes ferns. She seemed puzzled that a hanging basket had nothing to offer. I don’t believe she blamed me, for she just moved on to the many blooms and feeders we do provide around the yard. My advice to the searchers is, don’t look in empty baskets. Look where the good is being done and see the image of the Provider Who was the beginning of all that is good; we can’t blame this amazing Creator. ” In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth…And God saw that it was good….and indeed it was very good”. (Genesis 1:1-31) He has already given us everything. (John 3:16) Yet in all His provision, God gave us free moral choice, and desires that we seek Him. (Matthew 7:7) Who are we to demand answers from God? He should (and will) demand answers from us as to what we have done to make it a better world. I hope to do a better job of filling those baskets; with nectar from God’s word and sweet smelling prayers to God on behalf of the searchers. May the children fill their hands with bouquets of blessings and find their way home. The meadows are bursting with possibilities.
My thoughts have whirled about in my mind this weekend like little Maple tree wings caught in the wind. Like everyone, I’m adjusting to new firsts. The year has had a strange beginning, from climate to Covid; demanding a new norm.
Dreary describes the weather today, Easter Sunday, with another cold Kentucky rain. Memories flit through my mind of sunny breezy days with young children running through grassy tufts, peering into shrubs and up the downspouts. Baskets of brightly colored eggs swing on their arms; plastic eggs with coins or jelly beans rattling inside, some hard boiled eggs dyed and decorated the day before and some cellophane-wrapped marshmallows. I never have understood the connection between egg-laying rabbits and the resurrection of Christ. Nor do I get the connection between baby chicks that were dyed pastel colors and curly paper grass in a basket. Still, I did all of it. From brand new patent leather shoes to a pair of white gloves, my memories run strong in the wake of Easters gone by.
This year is a new memory for everyone no matter our ages, for never before have we been socially separated from one another on Easter Sunday, or any other day for that matter, unless someone in the family had the measles or chicken pox or such. For several weeks now we have had a new place of worship, at home. Here is ours.
We are thankful for online live worship services, just one of many things I have taken for granted up until now.
A whole new appreciation for the smart phone emerged today as I video chatted with each of our children, showing them the meal we wish they were here to share.
Receiving pictures of two great nephews on the day they hunted Easter eggs; two others as they played with their baby chickens; and video chatting great nieces with new hair color were the highlights of our day before Easter. At first I felt lonesome to see them, but knew too, that we have no idea what lonesome is as long as we can be there electronically. You know, the more I think about our distancing, the more I see us coming together. Thinking of ways to overcome the voids is a tradition that goes back, way back, to a time I have only heard of, and not seen.
Traditions are cunning little comforts. Whether the practice of worshipping with a church family, or meeting with friends for a game of Rook, until something is taken away, we don’t realize what a comfort it is. It has been good to be reminded of times I have taken for granted. Linda Pugh reminded me this morning of a time I now miss. She said her mom always handmade a new Easter dress for her. I remember several little Easter frocks I made for my daughter. Just as I am sure Linda remembers the love her mom sewed into those dresses, I remember, and miss, the pleasure it gave me to create a garment for my little girl. Good times.
There was an Easter tradition in my childhood in which Mama bought each of her three children new outfits, right down to the little white knee socks and bow tie for our little brother. I recall the excitement of spreading out all the new items on the bed the night before – dress, cancan (ruffled slip in the South), socks, shoes, an accessory such as gloves, or some years a purse. She certainly did not have the extra money to do it; but working 50 hours a week outside the home, she had not yet developed sewing skills. I believe she did it to show us how important we were to her; to symbolically give us a new spring start. The first few Easters of adulthood when I didn’t have a new Spring outfit, felt like I was doing something wrong; the comfort of tradition was missing. I soon learned that tradition is not essential.
Linda also recalled her dad buying pink and blue baby chicks for her siblings and herself each Easter. Now there’s a tradition serving two purposes: fun for the kids now, and fried chicken later. Or eggs to gather; eggs that in future Easters would be boiled, dipped in food coloring and hidden for another hunt. I guess bunnies and baby chickens are like the newness of Spring, when all things are being resurrected. The eggs though…I just don’t know.
I hope your new norm is working out, and that Easter wasn’t too hard for you. I do know one who was very sad and alone today; we talked late in the evening and all I could do was assure him this will pass. I encouraged him to take care of himself, get some exercise, eat healthy, hang in there – at home. Jesus said something similar to His disciples as recorded in John 13, paraphrased, He said, Love one another, keep my commandments, take care of each other and I will be back for you. On the resurrection morning He said to Mary (John 20) I am ascending to the Father, so you go tell the others. Later he let the disciples know they had a job to do until He would come again; to spread the word everywhere that forgiveness of sins could be had through Himself. “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit” (Matthew 28: 19). And when He comes again, we too will have a resurrection day. Happy Spring!
It is hard to find the beginning in a story of grace because one good thing done was preceded by another and another before it, and so on. Today I had opportunity to extend a cup of grace, though a very small one. Lest you think I am about to boast in myself, I’ll assure you I amnot. It seems that for every time I remember to be gracious, there are several other hands of grace from whom I’ve been fed.
My husband stays away from coffee like it was leprosy and has for about forty years since he got so sick over a thermos of it. Fatigue, too much coffee and the smells inside the plant got to him and you do not want to hear the rest of that story. He was working a night shift in addition to his farming in order for me to be a stay-at-home momma. I guess that’s the beginning of this chain of grace. Fast forward to present day, he makes sure I get a loaded coffee card each Christmas, to drink all the coffee I want in spite of his hatred for the stuff; grace cup number two. Today I visited a local coffee shop to redeem my free cup-of-your-choice reward. A medium hot macchiato with unsweet vanilla please. “I’ll have that right out for you,” the employee said. A couple of pretty young girls were waited on after my order was taken; two or three cars were served through the to-go window; still no macchiato. My husband saw how busy they were and commented that they don’t get paid enough, and went to wait for me in the car. Another customer was served, still none for me. I sat with my eyes closed for a bit and let the sun wash over me for calm (cup of grace number three). Finally I just asked, “Have you made that macchiato yet?” Shock, dismay and remorse washed over the poor guy’s face. He apologized humbly and began filling the order. Another barista asked if he could refund my money to which I said, “No, that’s ok, it was free anyway”. He then offered to put another free coffee on my account. For a moment I almost said yes, but then I remembered: many are the times I have been graciously excused and forgiven for some oversight, forgotten obligation, or even an intentional wrong done. I smiled and said, “No, thank you, it’s all right.” I left with a delicious hot beverage and a lift in my step because he had not made excuses, and expressed in his own way that I was valued as a customer, as a person, in a world of excuses and blame games.
Just yesterday on the other hand, yours truly was served with grace, as I was handing a bitter cup to a phone agent while I simultaneously hammered out an e-mail to their live chat agent. The online floral delivery to an out of town office did not get there by noon after I had paid the extra five bucks for designated delivery time.I was not ugly, but I stated in an irritated voice, that I was not happy, and the whole purpose of getting the flowers there by, yadda yadda, yadda…you get the idea. Right? After a lengthy wait, (during which time I was mentally formulating a customer satisfaction survey reply, should there be one) the very kind phone agent had arranged to have my extra five dollars refunded, and asked if I wanted to have the flowers delivered to a residence instead, or cancel altogether, or leave any instructions at all for the mistake to be corrected. I changed my mind twice with him, let the live chat agent off the hook, and communicated by text with the intended recipient, all at the same time. Turns out the flowers were delivered, but someone forgot to enter that in the trackingthing-a-mabob. My daughter had been notified by an efficient receptionist that she had a delivery, but since it missed her, they would be redelivering in two days when she is there. I didn’t even know they could do that!
Results? God was gracious in answering my prayer for my daughter’s successful conference presentation, with or without flowers. The customer service agent never even sounded slightly ruffled with me. The live chat ended with an apology for my inconvenience. I am five dollars better off. My daughter was just as grateful as if she had received the flowers beforehand – it was the thought that counted. I was lavishly graced.
As I enjoyed my coffee, I was comparing my minor inconveniences with the countless atrocities God coverswith grace if we will just say, “I am sorry. I have no excuse. I want to make it right.” His grace flows in the blood of Jesus Christ to right our wrongs, cleanse our stains and redirect our wayward steps. There is nothing I can offer God, like a free coffee, to make up for my mistakes; it is He instead, Who keeps offering me redemption. I want to be like Him.
2 Corinthians 1:12 (MSG)Now that the worst is over, we’re pleased we can report that we’ve come out of this with conscience and faith intact, and can face the world – and even more importantly, face you with our heads held high. But it wasn’t by any fancy footwork on our part. It was God who kept us focused on him, uncompromised. (The Message Bible)
2 Corinthians 1:12 (NKJV)For our boasting is this: the testimony of our conscience that we conducted ourselves in the world in simplicity and godly sincerity, not with fleshly wisdom but by the grace of God, and more abundantly toward you. (NKJV)
Attending the funeral of a young(ish) woman today, I was stricken with two things. One, I seem to be attending a lot of funerals lately, so that’s where my writing engine often is fueled. The second is this. In thinking about how suddenly her sweet life was ended here, and as the preacher said, it is coming to us all whether sudden or not, I thought, wow, the effort most of us put into living is quite backwards. At least, for me it is. The child of God has His promise (He cannot lie and is the author of our salvation) that life after earthly life is perfect if we accept His way – that is, eternal life extended through His Son, Jesus Christ. On the other hand, this earthly existence we call ‘life’ is full of uncertainty day and night; heartache, disappointments, and pain are not really that uncommon, right? Does anyone know for sure what tomorrow will hold? With all the joyful blessings we have here in this life, none of it is guaranteed to be here another day. And yet, we hold onto this life with Everything. We. Have.
I’m not saying this life is unimportant. On the contrary, anything from God is significant and to be cherished. What I am saying is, do I hold so tightly to the uncertain, that I miss the certain? Yes, sadly I do. Spending? Just look at my stuff. Time? Compared to appointments, reading, house work, blah blah blah, time spent with God is terribly little. Prayer? Oh my, how much more I ask for in blessings to my people, compared to praising Him for my people and everything else He has done already! I’m just trying to put some things into perspective…you can apply it to your own lives however it fits.
The beautiful eternal life of living in the presence of my heavenly Father, my savior Jesus Christ and Holy Spirit, with no, natta, ziltch uncertainties; in perfect peace, forever praises – that is what we push away as hard as we can. What? Yes, we clutch the mortal life with all its difficulties as if that were the only life we have. Trust Him, friend, this life “ain’t all she wrote”! As suggested today, read the writings of John in holy scripture (John, I, II, and III John and Revelation) for a description of the love of God and the forever life He put in our hands. He knew the devil would make this life as difficult as he could, and He prepared a place where the child of God will escape the uncertainties of this world and live, really LIVE, forever in His grace.
I believe Reta is there in that perfect peace, resting. Hope to see ya there Reta!
Any day I get to see my dear friend is a happy day, but today was a happy and sad occasion to see her. Linda Pugh and her family were here for her father’s funeral, and I knew before they concluded the touching service that this would be an evening of writing for me.
Listening to Ronny Stubblefield deliver a portion of his dad’s eulogy, I felt unexpected tears begin to gather; not sad tears, but sympathetic ones for a family saying farewell to their daddy, and from a sort of recognition that I didn’t anticipate. I say unexpected because this was the celebration of a life well lived; 90 years of life and those years lived with full expectation of eternal life with his Lord hereafter. Also, I thought I really didn’t know Ewing Stubblefield very well, even though his daughter is one of my dearest friends. Linda and I were roommates at Freed-Hardeman College our first semester away from home. I began to know her family through her voice, and today as the three children and several grandchildren conducted Mr. Stubblefield’s funeral, I realized that I did know him better than I thought.
I knew something of Ewing Stubblefield for one thing, through the strength he passed on to his daughter. His quiet and gentle spirit as well, lives in his children. Also, because of the dedicated way he had worked to be sure his children attended college, I knew him as a lover of education and reading even before his sons Terry and Ronny spoke of that today. Their college degrees fulfilled the dream of a hard working farmer/factory-worker/preacher who never had the opportunity himself to go beyond high school. Every time I visited his assisted living apartment, he had an open book in his hands, pictures of family everywhere, and even with dementia setting in, he was the most courteous gentleman! So, I knew of his love and respect for family and friends. Many moons ago I had attended church services with Linda, and her daddy was the preacher; I knew he loved the word of God. I also knew that he had a distaste for denim overalls – now I know that included jeans as well. It’s a generational thing I think.
As I looked over the family area of benches today, there were many brown eyes, dark hair, and tall ‘straight’ statures, (as my Grandma used to say of those with good posture), all carrying the genetic traits of Ewing Stubblefield. I have a feeling that what mattered more to Mr Stubblefield though, was that he passed to his descendants the torch for God’s word; that they were continuing his legacy of strong but gentle people, proponents of education, and loving family in their own way. Terry mentioned that his dad didn’t express love and affection so much; men of his generation generally didn’t, but oh my how he lived it! If a kid from Lynn Grove could visit New Providence a few times, go to school with the man’s daughter, and observe from outside his circle that he was a strong, dedicated man full of love and devotion, then he absolutely lived it.
What a blessing when a family can be gathered around their father and watch as he breathes his last breath from that tired and temporal body, being transformed as Paul states in Philippians chapter 3:
20 For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, 21who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself. (NKJV)
Whether you read this as being in His glorious body, the church, or as becoming a glorious spiritual body as Christ is now, there is clearly the thrilling knowledge that for God’s children, leaving this earth is the beginning of a wonderfulness we can only imagine. Oh happy day!
Happy sumauter (summer/autumn/winter all in one week) to you! I began this post as a follow-up to our last musings about lost stuff, deciding what should be kept and what is clutter that invades our peace. My searches for missing treasures can be the effect of too much stuff, OR, more often the result of my forgetfulness. This chronic condition gave rise to the following “lost and foun- er…forgotten” experience.
The good news is that my earring is not lost. If you met me on a recent Tuesday in Wal-Mart, or Kroger and noticed I was wearing a hole in my head on one side, and a pretty pearl (credit to my niece-in-law) on the other side, you may be right in assuming I am easily distracted; but if you thought, “oh, she lost an earring”, you’d be wrong. To make matters worse, I didn’t swoop through unnoticed; I talked to people! I thought the young produce boy looked at me with passing amusement just because I couldn’t find the plastic bags on the other side of him, so I said he must’ve been drinking muddy water. Oh well. He no doubt thought I was lost beyond finding.
My day started out on the dorky side anyway. Good neighbors who never stop by, stopped by… and caught me still in my pajamas, complete with tennis shoes because I like to work in the house in comfort (it’s an ankle thing), I had somewhere to be at 10:30, and I saw no reason to get dressed twice. Later, as I put one earring in, I heard my dog bark and remembered I’d left him on the couch, so off I hurried to set him off the couch; enter husband who, due to back pain, asked me to run his belt through the back loops of his pants. At that time, the washer stopped and I lugged the basket of sheets out to the clothesline. Coming inside, I realized it was time for that 10:30 thing, so I left. Driving down the highway, I asked myself, did I ever finish getting ready? No, only one earring, and no time to go back. I removed it and put it in my change purse. OH, but that’s not the end.
Back home, with three jobs to be doing at once, I postponed the shopping until my very unobservant husband was ready to go with me. I put in that other earring I had first left at home, and knowing the first one was in my purse, we left the house. But I drove. The rest is history. Nobody told me, (and I have very short hair) that I was wearing only one earring; husband, store employees and friends, some with whom I spoke at length, all acted like I looked normal. Girls, this is not the same as your wearing mismatched shoes – at least you didn’t go with one bare foot. Imagine my embarrassment when I stood before the mirror at 9:30 PM to remove my earrings and makeup.
Suddenly I recalled how chipper I’d been, smiling and speaking, happy to be alive and interacting like a woman who knows what she’s doing…confident and fearless. I can just imagine people were thinking, “wow, poor thing, she should’ve taken that other earring out, bless her heart”. The bad news is that I am just forgetful; and easily distracted. I don’t even know if I was really wearing makeup. ??
Do we look through a dark glass? Do we turn from the mirror and forget who and what we are? Spiritually speaking, it is quite possible to do so. According to scripture, we can look into God’s word with understanding, and then turn around and do right the opposite. That life stuff again, distractions, maybe too little room in our faith to let the word grow; even a strong faith can get tangled in strands of ‘something shiny’, and we forget whose we are. “Know that the Lord, He is God; It is He Who has made us and not we ourselves; we are His people and the sheep of His pasture.” (Psalm 100:3 NKJV)
“For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man observing his natural face in a mirror; for he observes himself, goes away, and immediately forgets what kind of man he was. But he who looks into the perfect law of liberty and continues in it, and is not a forgetful hearer but a doer of the work, this one will be blessed in what he does.” (James 1:23-25).
I have struggled today with matters of faith, prayer and promises. I didn’t know how to word my questions, so no matter how much I wanted to write, all I could say was “I can’t even…” and when I tried to pray I cried and felt like an ungrateful child, or at best, a distant relative. Throughout the day, I’ve studied God’s word with intermittent prayer and at last have, with God’s guidance, found my footing in that jagged mountainside of faith. “…nevertheless I am not ashamed, for I know whom I have believed and am persuaded that He is able to keep what I have committed to Him until that Day.” (II Timothy 1:12)
If you have never questioned God’s promises – well, not so much God, but our understanding of the promises – if you’ve never felt your faith quiver somewhat, then I applaud you in your stoic faith. Though I have met some disappointments without questioning God even one little bit, that is not always the case. There have come times of heartache brought about by no one’s wrong doing; hope that’s dashed and severe suffering by good people. We see it everyday. We pray, we see answers and blessings, we praise God, knowing His goodness and mercy have followed us. Or, we pray, we wait hopefully, believing God’s will is best and plan to give all glory to Him, whatever the answers are. Or, we pray, we watch bad turn to worse, we hope and pray more, and continue to see what to our human sight, is unanswered prayer. Wrong. None of these is the true purpose of prayer. It’s not about the answers. I know this. I just get so caught up in taking it all to the Lord, that I veer off course on a path of thinking He owes me answers. How wrong this is!
I read somewhere that the true purpose of prayer is to draw closer to God, not to seek answers. I believe scripture supports that; even though the Lord said “seek and you shall find, ask and it shall be given, knock and it shall be opened to you”. So I ask myself, am I seeking, asking and knocking for the wrong things? His answers are already given us in His Word – both the written word as well as His Word that became flesh and dwelt among us. He knows suffering. He knows disappointment. He knows prayer beyond human limits, to the point of sweating like great drops of blood. (Luke 22:44)
What has my heart burdened today is not for myself, but for friends who so far have not seen the answers that they and our community have sought for months. Still we pray, knowing that with God all things are possible (Matthew 19:26). Every time I look at the newspaper, or listen to the news, there are reports of more suffering children; neglect, abuse, tragedy, and I want to throw something and scream. Still I pray. I pray with the knowledge that whatever circumstances any of us endure, we are already given everything we need. The rest, beyond Christ as our Savior, is icing on the cake. My heart aches that some of those sweetest blessings are subjected to pain and suffering, that beautiful young life is interrupted for tedious tests and treatments; that dreams dissolve into emesis basins and medications. Cancer is so cruel. But, focus, I tell myself; eyes on the Lord, not on the problem. Look higher, seek a life of walking with the only one who knows completely what we are going through. He has weathered every storm long before us; He gave up every comfort, even to death, so that when life such as it is, forces evil upon us, He can carry us through. Jesus knows. Jesus cares. Jesus has provided the peace that passes all understanding. Jesus is Lord – on the mountain and in the valley – and has prepared the end of our story to be victorious. Whether the story lasts a few months, 18 years, 90 years or more, ours is but a breath and then there is eternal life. Victorious, perfect, eternal praise to the One Who gave us everything good; and ultimately destroys all that threatens good.
These questions have been mauled by the philosophies of people on all sides of the issues, and this simple country girl has no original idea, nor even a good idea to help us get through life’s storms. Here is what I do know: no force of earth nor space could ever have given me the blessings I’ve enjoyed, except the fiercely loving, all knowing God I serve. He did not cause bad things to happen, and if He always only allowed us to have everything we ask, where would be the hope of Heaven? If all was good, uninterrupted smooth sailing, who would need the lighthouse? It’s all about preparing our lives to depend on Him, to look forward to being with Him, and to give Him all praise for what He has done for us. Life is grand, and grander still, God holds my hand and always will.
I mentioned earlier a ‘jagged mountainside of faith’. I look forward to the completion of my faith, when I reach the top of that mountain. As long as I am here though, on the mountainside, there will be falling rock, stumbling stones, and holes to overcome because this is life – human style. I believe we can only reach the top by holding hands, (we have two) one with God and the other helping another. When our faith is complete in Christ, our journey done, we will look back at all He has brought us through; to new life – heaven style. I still have questions; even in the autumn of life my faith is still growing; but I have hope that when we do rest atop that mountain, the view will be worth it all.
If you’ve stayed with me to this point, thank you for hearing my heart. I truly want to hear from yours too, in how you reconcile verses such as “faith will save the sick” in James 5, with the knowledge that some are not healed. How do you wrestle with life questions without bruising your faith or that of others? Remind me of Job, “In all this Job did not sin nor charge God with wrong.” (Job 1:22) Have a good week. Trisha