How many times have you heard someone fussing or fuming about not feeling like their prayers were answered? Like a little child who wants it all and wants it now, even if it’s not good for them, we stomp our little feet before God and demand with all the maturity and understanding of over-tired two year old. How God must shake his head at us.
You see, I live with a two year old, who is often overly tired, and who wants what he wants when he wants it—and get can get pretty vocal when my response is no, or not yet, or wait. He is only able to sense the moment and has no idea of time or the vast array of consequences. He has some trust of me and my ability to provide, but that can be overshadowed by the hugeness of his immediate want. How come I don’t get it? Why am I being so awful and withholding? Or worse yet, he thought I could do anything—now, he’s just not so sure.
Sound like anyone you know? Spiritually speaking, as adults we can get pretty caught up acting like my grandson. I’ve learned a few things about praying over the years. Here are a few things that have helped me:
First, hang on. Just because our need or want is pressing and we feel its intense urgency doesn’t mean that we’re going to die if that need is not met immediately. We have to trust that life is process and just like an assembly line, we have to wait for everything to be in place. It’s not good to rush the process. As fruit takes time to ripen our lives are involved in a maturing and growing process, too. When I think of this I am reminded of how Sarah tried to rush God’s process by providing Abraham with her maid servant to create the child God promised. It seemed like an option, but it was disastrous and we’ve been paying the price ever since. Or think of Joseph in the prison in Egypt. I’m sure he and God had some long talks. I’m sure he wondered how long and where was God. But if you read the story in the end he was right where he needed to be to not only meet the needs of a country, but also his family. In the gospels we read a powerful phrase: in the fullness of time. This basically means: when all the pieces come together. Trust that God is working and watch for the pieces to fall into place.
Another thing that I have learned is that prayer is conversation with God. Now that means a couple things to me. First, I don’t have to get all fancy or follow some format to have a conversation with God. No fancy phrases or formulas are required. There’s no magic to it except just doing it. A friend was asked to bring the morning prayer in church one Sunday, a typically formal activity. As he began to pray he asked God to “slap some wonder on us.” A giggle escaped me, I was overcome by the simplicity and joy of that kind of praying. So many don’t pray because they think it has to be done a certain way or contain certain words or close a prescribed way. Do you worry like that when you’re meeting a friend at a coffee shop to visit over a latte? God wants us to talk to him, share what’s on our hearts and what’s troubling our minds. And then, he wants us to listen to his words of comfort, direction, or correction. That’s the way a conversation works.
Finally, and this is a relatively new concept to me, have you ever considered the “unprayed answers” in your life? These are the graces that come our way when we haven’t even asked, perhaps before we even knew there was or was going to be a need. It was like someone was watching and anticipated what we would need and was there right on time with a provision that we hadn’t expected or sought, but definitely needed. The writer of Lamentations puts it this way: The unfailing love of the Lord never ends! By his mercies we have been kept from complete destruction. Great is his faithfulness; his mercies begin afresh each day (Lamentations 3:22-23). So the next time you’re tempted to grouse about the way your prayers seem unanswered, thankfully run through a list of God has graced your life, anticipating your needs, and showing up right on time with exactly what you needed.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Learning to Trust
Today was a good day at church. Nelson was moving a little slow, so I took advantage and decided to walk to church. Asher wanted to come, too, so we walked. He was just chattering away. It was a really good way to get my head and heart in the right place.
Our lesson in ABF was the “Okay” of prayer. Following up our past two lessons on “why?” today we considered the position of acceptance. We started by looking at Job and his response in chapter one: The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord. Dr. Flora went on to present Paul’s life and how he responded to his light and momentary troubles. Please read that and understand it ‘s quite tongue in cheek. Paul describes the extraordinarily horrific trials he went through in his time of service (see 2 Corinthians 11:23-29).
As a class we were invited to consider people we knew who struggled with overwhelming circumstances and came out on the side of faith. I immediately thought of the mother of one of my good friends in high school. She died as the result of the ravages of breast cancer leaving behind five children between the ages of five and fifteen. Her sweet, encouraging spirit touched my life and her words have been foundational to my faith: never give up. No matter what, never give up.
Right now, I feel pretty overwhelmed. There are so many directions I can go. And while I’m familiar with some of what I think I want to do, I feel like I’m walking completely into the dark. I don’t know how to give up, but I’m not sure how to go on either.
Then I found these verses:
8 We think you ought to know, dear brothers and sisters,[a] about the trouble we went through in the province of Asia. We were crushed and overwhelmed beyond our ability to endure, and we thought we would never live through it. 9 In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead…And we are confident that he will continue to deliver us. (2 Corinthians 1:8-10)
A God who can raise the dead is worthy of my trust. I can rely on that even when I can’t see where my next foot will fall.
Two more thoughts were quite powerful for me. The first thing had to do with answered prayer. We talk a lot about it, and even more about the times when we think our prayers aren’t answered. But the teacher posed this question: what about unprayed answers? What about the times when grace abounds when we weren’t even looking for it?
And finally, did you ever hear that there is only one door for joy and pain to enter your heart? If you close the door to one (typically pain) then you close the door to the other, joy. After Job’s wife, totally exasperated, told Job to curse God and die, Job responds with a question: shall we take the good and not the bad? Job may not have understood why things were happening the way they were, and he may not even have been ready or able to say “okay”, but he was willing to trust God with his questions, his anger, his agony, and his future. I can relate to that.
Our lesson in ABF was the “Okay” of prayer. Following up our past two lessons on “why?” today we considered the position of acceptance. We started by looking at Job and his response in chapter one: The Lord gives and the Lord takes away, blessed be the name of the Lord. Dr. Flora went on to present Paul’s life and how he responded to his light and momentary troubles. Please read that and understand it ‘s quite tongue in cheek. Paul describes the extraordinarily horrific trials he went through in his time of service (see 2 Corinthians 11:23-29).
As a class we were invited to consider people we knew who struggled with overwhelming circumstances and came out on the side of faith. I immediately thought of the mother of one of my good friends in high school. She died as the result of the ravages of breast cancer leaving behind five children between the ages of five and fifteen. Her sweet, encouraging spirit touched my life and her words have been foundational to my faith: never give up. No matter what, never give up.
Right now, I feel pretty overwhelmed. There are so many directions I can go. And while I’m familiar with some of what I think I want to do, I feel like I’m walking completely into the dark. I don’t know how to give up, but I’m not sure how to go on either.
Then I found these verses:
8 We think you ought to know, dear brothers and sisters,[a] about the trouble we went through in the province of Asia. We were crushed and overwhelmed beyond our ability to endure, and we thought we would never live through it. 9 In fact, we expected to die. But as a result, we stopped relying on ourselves and learned to rely only on God, who raises the dead…And we are confident that he will continue to deliver us. (2 Corinthians 1:8-10)
A God who can raise the dead is worthy of my trust. I can rely on that even when I can’t see where my next foot will fall.
Two more thoughts were quite powerful for me. The first thing had to do with answered prayer. We talk a lot about it, and even more about the times when we think our prayers aren’t answered. But the teacher posed this question: what about unprayed answers? What about the times when grace abounds when we weren’t even looking for it?
And finally, did you ever hear that there is only one door for joy and pain to enter your heart? If you close the door to one (typically pain) then you close the door to the other, joy. After Job’s wife, totally exasperated, told Job to curse God and die, Job responds with a question: shall we take the good and not the bad? Job may not have understood why things were happening the way they were, and he may not even have been ready or able to say “okay”, but he was willing to trust God with his questions, his anger, his agony, and his future. I can relate to that.
Saturday, August 23, 2008
Of Puzzles and Pools
I love puzzles and I hate them. I’m referring to the jigsaw puzzle here. I have used puzzles a lot in the past in teaching and therapy (individual and group). I have bought many puzzles as gifts. My older daughter in particular has been the recipient of several very beautiful and intricate puzzles. I had a friend who that is all she looked for at garage sales—and the bigger the better! That is the stuff my nightmares are made of!
How do you put a puzzle together? Primarily, I’m a framer. I go straight to the edge pieces and get the outside established before I move toward the center. Then, I’m a clumper. I sort through the pieces hunting for “like” patterns or pieces that go to a specific object or part of the center (a barn, a flower, ect.). And I need the picture. People who just start throwing a puzzle together without studying and referring often to the picture are, in my opinion, strange. Why would you avoid the one help that could get you there more quickly?
How do you feel about someone coming up and picking up the one piece you have been searching for for hours? You have been on a quest so long for that piece that you had to take a potty break and a stretch break. It was during that second break, just as you were walking back to the puzzle refreshed for the hunt, when you see the interloper reach down and nonchalantly pick up the prized piece and casually, as if it couldn’t possibly matter, fit it right into the rest. Then they always say something completely irksome like, “I don’t see what’s so hard about these things. Child’s play.” If you got the right jury, I think they would acquit.
Right now, my life feels like someone came in with a two ton dump truck full of pieces and dropped them right on top of me. I have been given no picture to go by and there are no edge pieces. I am overwhelmed and I don’t know where to start.
I have another feeling. And if you don’t mind me mixing my metaphors, I’ll share it. I’ve been watching a lot of the Olympics. I am awed by the talent, dedication, and team spirit. Strength and speed seems to be bursting forth in every event. And courage. Lately, I’ve watched an abundance of platform diving. You know the one: where kids not even old enough to drive are jumping off the equivalent of a thirty foot building without making a splash. And let’s throw in three summersaults and a couple twists for good measure, or jump off backwards, or insanity of all insanity, start from a handstand. I can’t even do a handstand. As a child, I had to use the wall to do one! But, I digress.
I feel like someone has forced me out to the edge of the platform and is insisting I jump. It probably wouldn’t be too big a deal if I could swim. Nah, that’s not it. I can do the old lady swim to get myself out of the deep end. It could be my fear is that I will hurt myself entering the water. I can’t dive and when I land it will hurt because some part of my anatomy is going to hit smack on the water causing a huge splash (add embarrassment to pain) and leaving an even huger red mark—since there is way more anatomy to hit the water than there was when I was a teen ager and jumping off a platform might have made sense.
Bottom line: I don’t know what to do and I’m afraid to start. There are a lot of reasons to jump in and I’m going to look at them and the fear in upcoming posts. Right now I’m going to utilize avoidance and go to the local Farmer’s Market and do some other grocery shopping.
How do you put a puzzle together? Primarily, I’m a framer. I go straight to the edge pieces and get the outside established before I move toward the center. Then, I’m a clumper. I sort through the pieces hunting for “like” patterns or pieces that go to a specific object or part of the center (a barn, a flower, ect.). And I need the picture. People who just start throwing a puzzle together without studying and referring often to the picture are, in my opinion, strange. Why would you avoid the one help that could get you there more quickly?
How do you feel about someone coming up and picking up the one piece you have been searching for for hours? You have been on a quest so long for that piece that you had to take a potty break and a stretch break. It was during that second break, just as you were walking back to the puzzle refreshed for the hunt, when you see the interloper reach down and nonchalantly pick up the prized piece and casually, as if it couldn’t possibly matter, fit it right into the rest. Then they always say something completely irksome like, “I don’t see what’s so hard about these things. Child’s play.” If you got the right jury, I think they would acquit.
Right now, my life feels like someone came in with a two ton dump truck full of pieces and dropped them right on top of me. I have been given no picture to go by and there are no edge pieces. I am overwhelmed and I don’t know where to start.
I have another feeling. And if you don’t mind me mixing my metaphors, I’ll share it. I’ve been watching a lot of the Olympics. I am awed by the talent, dedication, and team spirit. Strength and speed seems to be bursting forth in every event. And courage. Lately, I’ve watched an abundance of platform diving. You know the one: where kids not even old enough to drive are jumping off the equivalent of a thirty foot building without making a splash. And let’s throw in three summersaults and a couple twists for good measure, or jump off backwards, or insanity of all insanity, start from a handstand. I can’t even do a handstand. As a child, I had to use the wall to do one! But, I digress.
I feel like someone has forced me out to the edge of the platform and is insisting I jump. It probably wouldn’t be too big a deal if I could swim. Nah, that’s not it. I can do the old lady swim to get myself out of the deep end. It could be my fear is that I will hurt myself entering the water. I can’t dive and when I land it will hurt because some part of my anatomy is going to hit smack on the water causing a huge splash (add embarrassment to pain) and leaving an even huger red mark—since there is way more anatomy to hit the water than there was when I was a teen ager and jumping off a platform might have made sense.
Bottom line: I don’t know what to do and I’m afraid to start. There are a lot of reasons to jump in and I’m going to look at them and the fear in upcoming posts. Right now I’m going to utilize avoidance and go to the local Farmer’s Market and do some other grocery shopping.
Monday, August 18, 2008
Things of Significance
Didn’t make it to the coffee shop today. I stopped at Dairy Queen and got lunch, sandwich and a Moolatte, and headed to the park. I found a table under a tree near the pond and I’ll camp out here until children arrive to destroy the serenity. The natural sounds are like a symphony surrounding me. This is tons better than the sterility of the coffee shop—though I will probably appreciate it come the change of season.
So what inspiration drifts into my consciousness as I sit here? Whoa, I didn’t realize there was a working train track right near here! An old man just ambled by with his poodle. I wonder if he was a widower. How many little old men get stuck with poodles after their wives die?
I’m not near enough to the water to hear it, but I love watching the wind push it around. A fish just jumped, creating new rings in the patterns. The wind is really blowing today, not a gentle breeze but gusty. If this were winter it wouldn’t be a good wind, but today, in August, it makes the day more pleasant. There isn’t much humidity today. Is it really August?
A few butterflies have floated by. Are they butterflies or moths, a friend planted the seed of wonder in my mind. Her beautiful pictures of both inspire such awe in me. Her eye and steady hand are God’s instruments—and then the creative things she does to the images. The only word I can think of is amazing.
Sitting here by the water, soaking in the nature around me, thinking about my friend and imagining how her fingers might be itching to be clicking instead of sitting at a desk right now, I wonder. I wonder if I could do this all day. I have been so driven in my work, consumed by being productive. Sitting here now I wonder if it really was about productivity, or was there just a need to look busy.
I sat with that for a few minutes and here’s what I’ve decided: I’m tired. I don’t want to just be busy. I want more than just being productive. If I have to have a job, I want it to be something I can be passionate about. I want it to be significant. Is that where the draw to write is coming from? Do I have anything significant to say?
Can I tell you a story about grace?
Can I tell you a story about friendship?
Can I tell you a story about forgiveness?
Can I tell you a story about restoration?
I was the pastor at South Union Mennonite Church from June 1999 until October 2001. I was their interim pastor. My job was to help them with the healing process and get them ready to call a full-time pastor. This was no easy task as they were terribly wounded and reeling from going through four splits in three years. Rather than deal with things, people just left so nothing changed or improved.
A mediation process was begun prior to my coming. I was empowered to make changes that were going to chafe the staunchly unmovable. It was such a wonderful experience for me. I had a freedom to do things because I knew I wouldn’t be there forever. I was also not no Mennonite so some of my mistakes and exuberance were overlooked and even tolerated and dare I say enjoyed!
But a dark cloud came into my life and I made bad choices and ended up breaking the laws of God and man. I turned myself In for a horrible crime. I quickly resigned and separated myself from the church to spare them from as much of the embarrassment as possible. After I finished my time in jail I engaged in a process of healing with the congregation. First I met with the heads of the congregation and district leadership and a mediation board. Then I came before the elders to ask for forgiveness. It was a tearful meeting. On Maundy Thursday, my husband and I attended the church’s observance of communion and foot washing. The outpouring of love from the people was genuine and healing for us all.
There have been other moments in my journey where I have experienced moments of healing and restoration. A few years back I was interviewing with board members of a ministry that works with people who struggle with issues related to their felony convictions. One of the members asked if I had been restored. It was a good question. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that restoration is a process and I’m not sure it’s completed this side of heaven.
So what inspiration drifts into my consciousness as I sit here? Whoa, I didn’t realize there was a working train track right near here! An old man just ambled by with his poodle. I wonder if he was a widower. How many little old men get stuck with poodles after their wives die?
I’m not near enough to the water to hear it, but I love watching the wind push it around. A fish just jumped, creating new rings in the patterns. The wind is really blowing today, not a gentle breeze but gusty. If this were winter it wouldn’t be a good wind, but today, in August, it makes the day more pleasant. There isn’t much humidity today. Is it really August?
A few butterflies have floated by. Are they butterflies or moths, a friend planted the seed of wonder in my mind. Her beautiful pictures of both inspire such awe in me. Her eye and steady hand are God’s instruments—and then the creative things she does to the images. The only word I can think of is amazing.
Sitting here by the water, soaking in the nature around me, thinking about my friend and imagining how her fingers might be itching to be clicking instead of sitting at a desk right now, I wonder. I wonder if I could do this all day. I have been so driven in my work, consumed by being productive. Sitting here now I wonder if it really was about productivity, or was there just a need to look busy.
I sat with that for a few minutes and here’s what I’ve decided: I’m tired. I don’t want to just be busy. I want more than just being productive. If I have to have a job, I want it to be something I can be passionate about. I want it to be significant. Is that where the draw to write is coming from? Do I have anything significant to say?
Can I tell you a story about grace?
Can I tell you a story about friendship?
Can I tell you a story about forgiveness?
Can I tell you a story about restoration?
I was the pastor at South Union Mennonite Church from June 1999 until October 2001. I was their interim pastor. My job was to help them with the healing process and get them ready to call a full-time pastor. This was no easy task as they were terribly wounded and reeling from going through four splits in three years. Rather than deal with things, people just left so nothing changed or improved.
A mediation process was begun prior to my coming. I was empowered to make changes that were going to chafe the staunchly unmovable. It was such a wonderful experience for me. I had a freedom to do things because I knew I wouldn’t be there forever. I was also not no Mennonite so some of my mistakes and exuberance were overlooked and even tolerated and dare I say enjoyed!
But a dark cloud came into my life and I made bad choices and ended up breaking the laws of God and man. I turned myself In for a horrible crime. I quickly resigned and separated myself from the church to spare them from as much of the embarrassment as possible. After I finished my time in jail I engaged in a process of healing with the congregation. First I met with the heads of the congregation and district leadership and a mediation board. Then I came before the elders to ask for forgiveness. It was a tearful meeting. On Maundy Thursday, my husband and I attended the church’s observance of communion and foot washing. The outpouring of love from the people was genuine and healing for us all.
There have been other moments in my journey where I have experienced moments of healing and restoration. A few years back I was interviewing with board members of a ministry that works with people who struggle with issues related to their felony convictions. One of the members asked if I had been restored. It was a good question. The more I think about it, the more I am convinced that restoration is a process and I’m not sure it’s completed this side of heaven.
Thoughts from Sunday Morning
This morning was a rich time in ABF and Worship. Here are some of the thoughts that rumbled around in my mind and heart.
1. Our teacher in ABF has been directing our thinking about prayer by considering the familiar phrases of childhood: please, thank you, I’m sorry, I love you, shhhhhhhhh, and the past two Sundays have been about suffering. Today he referred to the story of Job. He pulled out the section where Job’s wife, out of frustration, told Job to just curse God and die. He skipped over one of my favorite passages and jumped to Job’s rant about wishing he had never been born.
The part he skipped was Job’s response to his wife: shall we take the good and not the bad? It’s such a vital question. As I contemplated this powerful question I was immediately reminded of Asher’s response when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants. He is just the center of our world, and gets or commands all of our attention while he’s awake. And he can pitch one royal fit when things don’t go his way. At this point in his little life everything is a catastrophe and there is little to know ability to accept or understand “the bad.” Many people I know haven’t outgrown this selfish, immature way of thinking.
One of the ways to combat this mentality is to not see loss as loss. What
2. In Pastor’s sermon series he has been addressing different ways that God’s ways don’t always make sense. Today he brought for our consideration the way of the cross: Jesus’ cross and ours. He made reference to the verses where Jesus informs the disciples that if would follow Him they would have to take up their cross. He said something about how we need to hate our life. At the very same time Nelson and I went woo-hoo. No question there are many things about our lives we hate right now. Okay, maybe that’s not what the scripture meant—or Pastor, for that matter, but perhaps it is the seedbed of what we really need to grasp.
For many years, I couldn’t hope for heaven because life here was so good. Not only did I not long for heaven, I didn’t go deeper in my spiritual walk either because I didn’t “feel” a need to. Life has not been easy, or very enjoyable in recent years (except for the addition of grandkids) and I cannot imagine a day where I didn’t depend on God’s strength and grace to get me through. I don’t love my life more than God. I don’t love my things more than God—woo hoo! I think I got it!
3. Pastor went on in his message and discussed “the value of a soul.” Nelson and I must have been on the same wavelink this morning because we both were struck by this one. It seems to us that part of the disinterest that unbelievers have is related to not understanding the value of a soul. How can they be interested or impacted by our passion for their soul? Our culture has been inundated with the immediate and disposable: nothing lasts forever. People buy things that are disposable on purpose because they know they’ll get bored and want to upgrade. People go into marriage (that which used to be to death do us part) already thinking that if it doesn’t work we can always just divorce. People use to live in the same house or at least town their entire lives—there just isn’t any sense of permanence. So the image of living forever, singing around a throne just doesn’t have any appeal. The mentality is much more: eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die.
4. And finally, Pastor’s sermon title was the question: Are you kidding? That’s the question we throw at God when He asks us to do stuff that doesn’t make sense. Pastor referred to Moses at the burning bush. Moses. How could God use this murdering coward who spent 40 years as a fugitive in another country? That’s the question others ask. I ask it differently: could God really use Moses after he wasted so much of his life, with a horrible past that others would cringe at and judge? Please God use Moses. Please God use me.
1. Our teacher in ABF has been directing our thinking about prayer by considering the familiar phrases of childhood: please, thank you, I’m sorry, I love you, shhhhhhhhh, and the past two Sundays have been about suffering. Today he referred to the story of Job. He pulled out the section where Job’s wife, out of frustration, told Job to just curse God and die. He skipped over one of my favorite passages and jumped to Job’s rant about wishing he had never been born.
The part he skipped was Job’s response to his wife: shall we take the good and not the bad? It’s such a vital question. As I contemplated this powerful question I was immediately reminded of Asher’s response when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants. He is just the center of our world, and gets or commands all of our attention while he’s awake. And he can pitch one royal fit when things don’t go his way. At this point in his little life everything is a catastrophe and there is little to know ability to accept or understand “the bad.” Many people I know haven’t outgrown this selfish, immature way of thinking.
One of the ways to combat this mentality is to not see loss as loss. What
2. In Pastor’s sermon series he has been addressing different ways that God’s ways don’t always make sense. Today he brought for our consideration the way of the cross: Jesus’ cross and ours. He made reference to the verses where Jesus informs the disciples that if would follow Him they would have to take up their cross. He said something about how we need to hate our life. At the very same time Nelson and I went woo-hoo. No question there are many things about our lives we hate right now. Okay, maybe that’s not what the scripture meant—or Pastor, for that matter, but perhaps it is the seedbed of what we really need to grasp.
For many years, I couldn’t hope for heaven because life here was so good. Not only did I not long for heaven, I didn’t go deeper in my spiritual walk either because I didn’t “feel” a need to. Life has not been easy, or very enjoyable in recent years (except for the addition of grandkids) and I cannot imagine a day where I didn’t depend on God’s strength and grace to get me through. I don’t love my life more than God. I don’t love my things more than God—woo hoo! I think I got it!
3. Pastor went on in his message and discussed “the value of a soul.” Nelson and I must have been on the same wavelink this morning because we both were struck by this one. It seems to us that part of the disinterest that unbelievers have is related to not understanding the value of a soul. How can they be interested or impacted by our passion for their soul? Our culture has been inundated with the immediate and disposable: nothing lasts forever. People buy things that are disposable on purpose because they know they’ll get bored and want to upgrade. People go into marriage (that which used to be to death do us part) already thinking that if it doesn’t work we can always just divorce. People use to live in the same house or at least town their entire lives—there just isn’t any sense of permanence. So the image of living forever, singing around a throne just doesn’t have any appeal. The mentality is much more: eat, drink, and be merry for tomorrow we die.
4. And finally, Pastor’s sermon title was the question: Are you kidding? That’s the question we throw at God when He asks us to do stuff that doesn’t make sense. Pastor referred to Moses at the burning bush. Moses. How could God use this murdering coward who spent 40 years as a fugitive in another country? That’s the question others ask. I ask it differently: could God really use Moses after he wasted so much of his life, with a horrible past that others would cringe at and judge? Please God use Moses. Please God use me.
Saturday, August 16, 2008
For Our Enjoyment
“Command them to do good, to be rich in good deeds, and to be generous and willing to share.”
This is the part of today’s text that I was planning to write about, but each time I read the whole passage, I kept being drawn to a different portion. Here’s the section I kept reading:
17 Teach those who are rich in this world not to be proud and not to trust in their money, which is so unreliable. Their trust should be in God, who richly gives us all we need for our enjoyment. 18 Tell them to use their money to do good. They should be rich in good works and generous to those in need, always being ready to share with others. 19 By doing this they will be storing up their treasure as a good foundation for the future so that they may experience true life.
Okay, before I continue, which part jumps out the most at you? Where is your hook today? Which phrase or word or concept is God laying out at the door of your heart to contemplate?
I was thinking about the command to be good and rich in good deeds when I couldn’t get away from the phrase in verse 17: Their trust should be in God, who richly gives us all we need for our enjoyment.
Now, perhaps my Puritanical roots have had more of an influence on my psyche than I realized, or I’ve just lived too long in the land of spiritual poverty, but when I read that God gives all we need for our enjoyment, I was stopped in my tracks. I know the verses that remind us that Jesus came that we might have not just life, but abundant life and that David prayed for the restoration of the joy of his salvation. When I read that the Shepherd of the 23rd Psalm gave me everything that I need I assumed that was about the necessities of life, not including enjoyment.
So the question that began knocking about in my mind was this: how have I limited what God has wanted to give to me?
I was just letting my mind wander through my memories and I landed on an incident that happened while I was pastoring my first church. Nelson had a motorcycle then and we went on a ride with another couple from the church. It was the longest ride I had ever been on—and as it turned the longest I would ever go on. We had been out for several hours and were heading home when we rounded a corner that had railroad tracks and lots of loose gravel. Nelson quickly instructed me to hold on. I misunderstood and instead of holding on to him, held onto the bike. Next thing I knew the bike was sliding down the road and so were we.
Fortunately, nothing was broken except a few things on the bike. We were a bit scraped up from our slide. I learned the pain of road rash. As we were in the emergency room, we realized that we needed to contact the church and let them know that we wouldn’t make it back for Sunday evening service. The seniors of our congregation were quick to let me know that our accident was the result of our frivolous spending of time on the Lord’s Day. Somehow I should have known better. It was a mistake that was labeled as immature, both in chronological wisdom and spiritual maturity. Their thinking was: God does not have fun on Sunday afternoons.
Maybe something else was broken that day. My ability to believe that God blesses us with times of enjoyment was somehow damaged. There have been special moments, but somehow I failed to attribute them to God. Most recently (and hugely) was a weekend that Nelson planned last Fall. We traveled to Kansas City (where I met a new dear friend) and enjoyed wonderful food, shopping, the symphony, and a Chiefs game. It was an oasis in a dessert time in my heart. How could I have not known it was a gift from God? Which also reinforces to me what a gift Nelson is to my life.
In just a little bit Nelson and I are taking Asher to a reservoir about an hour away. I played there as a child and then later after Nelson and I got married. Before I lost my job this summer I would stop there occasionally and eat my lunch when I was working in that town. I love that place and today I think God has prompted me to go and play there. It’s an enjoyment, a huge blessing of grace, that God is giving us today. Wish you could come along and play, too.
This is the part of today’s text that I was planning to write about, but each time I read the whole passage, I kept being drawn to a different portion. Here’s the section I kept reading:
17 Teach those who are rich in this world not to be proud and not to trust in their money, which is so unreliable. Their trust should be in God, who richly gives us all we need for our enjoyment. 18 Tell them to use their money to do good. They should be rich in good works and generous to those in need, always being ready to share with others. 19 By doing this they will be storing up their treasure as a good foundation for the future so that they may experience true life.
Okay, before I continue, which part jumps out the most at you? Where is your hook today? Which phrase or word or concept is God laying out at the door of your heart to contemplate?
I was thinking about the command to be good and rich in good deeds when I couldn’t get away from the phrase in verse 17: Their trust should be in God, who richly gives us all we need for our enjoyment.
Now, perhaps my Puritanical roots have had more of an influence on my psyche than I realized, or I’ve just lived too long in the land of spiritual poverty, but when I read that God gives all we need for our enjoyment, I was stopped in my tracks. I know the verses that remind us that Jesus came that we might have not just life, but abundant life and that David prayed for the restoration of the joy of his salvation. When I read that the Shepherd of the 23rd Psalm gave me everything that I need I assumed that was about the necessities of life, not including enjoyment.
So the question that began knocking about in my mind was this: how have I limited what God has wanted to give to me?
I was just letting my mind wander through my memories and I landed on an incident that happened while I was pastoring my first church. Nelson had a motorcycle then and we went on a ride with another couple from the church. It was the longest ride I had ever been on—and as it turned the longest I would ever go on. We had been out for several hours and were heading home when we rounded a corner that had railroad tracks and lots of loose gravel. Nelson quickly instructed me to hold on. I misunderstood and instead of holding on to him, held onto the bike. Next thing I knew the bike was sliding down the road and so were we.
Fortunately, nothing was broken except a few things on the bike. We were a bit scraped up from our slide. I learned the pain of road rash. As we were in the emergency room, we realized that we needed to contact the church and let them know that we wouldn’t make it back for Sunday evening service. The seniors of our congregation were quick to let me know that our accident was the result of our frivolous spending of time on the Lord’s Day. Somehow I should have known better. It was a mistake that was labeled as immature, both in chronological wisdom and spiritual maturity. Their thinking was: God does not have fun on Sunday afternoons.
Maybe something else was broken that day. My ability to believe that God blesses us with times of enjoyment was somehow damaged. There have been special moments, but somehow I failed to attribute them to God. Most recently (and hugely) was a weekend that Nelson planned last Fall. We traveled to Kansas City (where I met a new dear friend) and enjoyed wonderful food, shopping, the symphony, and a Chiefs game. It was an oasis in a dessert time in my heart. How could I have not known it was a gift from God? Which also reinforces to me what a gift Nelson is to my life.
In just a little bit Nelson and I are taking Asher to a reservoir about an hour away. I played there as a child and then later after Nelson and I got married. Before I lost my job this summer I would stop there occasionally and eat my lunch when I was working in that town. I love that place and today I think God has prompted me to go and play there. It’s an enjoyment, a huge blessing of grace, that God is giving us today. Wish you could come along and play, too.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)